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diff --git a/prototypes/README.md b/prototypes/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index bc7cf5cf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,20 +0,0 @@ -# Prototypes - -Each directory here is a series of prototypes for a single app. - -To build prototype #n of app X under this directory: - -``` -$ ./translate_mu prototypes/__X__/__n__.mu -``` - -This will generate a binary called `a.elf`. - -Sub-directories are prototypes with multiple files. Build them like this: - -``` -$ ./translate_mu prototypes/__X__/__n__/*.mu -``` - -For instructions on running the generated `a.elf` binary, see the prototype's -Readme. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/1-print-file.mu b/prototypes/browse/1-print-file.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 899ce160..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/1-print-file.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,33 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/ecx: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - dump file - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/ecx: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/10.mu b/prototypes/browse/10.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 99e712c2..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/10.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,178 +0,0 @@ -# We're not going to render italics since they still feel like an advanced -# feature for terminals, and since they often look weird to my eyes on the -# monospace font of a terminal window. So underscores and asterisks will both -# be bold. - -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, r: (addr render-state) { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - update-attributes c, r - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn update-attributes c: byte, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state -$check-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $check-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '_' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $check-state - } - break $check-state - } - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => normal text - reset-formatting 0 - copy-to *state, 0 - break $check-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '_' => normal text - reset-formatting 0 - copy-to *state, 0 - break $check-state - } - break $check-state - } - } # $check-state -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/11.mu b/prototypes/browse/11.mu deleted file mode 100644 index b7d20597..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/11.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,174 +0,0 @@ -# The current organization doesn't really work for the next feature (section -# headings) so let's inline attribute-handling. - -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col -$char-loop: { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop -$update-attributes:check-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '_' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => normal text - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '_' => normal text - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - } # $change-state - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/12.mu b/prototypes/browse/12.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 185849ad..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/12.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,179 +0,0 @@ -# Now the trailing asterisk or underscore renders correctly, for starters. - -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col -$char-loop: { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop -$update-attributes:check-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '_' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '_' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - } # $change-state - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/13.mu b/prototypes/browse/13.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 72cf523d..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/13.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,180 +0,0 @@ -# Support more than two states. - -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold, 2: heading -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col -$char-loop: { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop -$update-attributes:check-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '_' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - compare *state, 1 # bold - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '_' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - break $update-attributes:check-state - } - } # $change-state - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/14.mu b/prototypes/browse/14.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 53f452a2..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/14.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,178 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold, 2: heading -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col -$char-loop: { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop -$change-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $change-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '_' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $change-state - } - break $change-state - } - compare *state, 1 # bold - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '_' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - break $change-state - } - } # $change-state - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/15-headers-broken.mu b/prototypes/browse/15-headers-broken.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 950fa6ed..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/15-headers-broken.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,220 +0,0 @@ -# Incomplete first attempt at parsing headings. -# -# The state machine is getting out of control, and I notice old bugs like -# turning '*abc_' into bold text. - -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold, 2: heading - start-of-line?: boolean - num-hashes-seen?: int -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - # r->start-of-line? = true - var s/eax: (addr boolean) <- get r, start-of-line? - copy-to *s, 1 # true - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col -$char-loop: { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop -$change-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $change-state - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '_' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - break $change-state - } - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - { - break-if-!= - var s/eax: (addr boolean) <- get r, start-of-line? - compare *s, 1 - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '#' && at start of line => count '#'s - var h/eax: (addr int) <- get r, num-hashes-seen? - increment *h - break $change-state - } - break $change-state - } - break $change-state - } - compare *state, 1 # bold - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '_' => print c, then normal text - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - copy-to *state, 0 - loop $char-loop - } - break $change-state - } - } # $change-state - # update a few attributes of the state based on c without changing the state itself - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - # c is newline - var s/eax: (addr boolean) <- get r, start-of-line? - copy-to *s, 1 # true - # switch to normal text - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - # no need to print newlines - break $char-loop - } - compare c, 0x20 # space - { - break-if-= - # c is not newline or space - var s/eax: (addr boolean) <- get r, start-of-line? - copy-to *s, 0 # false - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/16-screen-state-broken.mu b/prototypes/browse/16-screen-state-broken.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 3e18f7f4..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/16-screen-state-broken.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,189 +0,0 @@ -# Incomplete second attempt at parsing headings. -# -# This 'OO' approach seems more scalable. We hoist out all the outer framework -# for deciding when to increment 'col', when to increment 'row' and when to -# start a new page in a whole new part of the screen. Now it gets encapsulated -# into a series of small helpers that can be called from multiple places. -# Objects as coroutines. -# -# In spite of these advances, I need to first wrestle with a parsing issue. -# This text has a heading: -# -# abc *def -# # ghi* -# -# Ugh, so I can't do this translation in a single pass. At the first asterisk -# there's just not enough information to know whether it starts a bold text or -# not. -# -# Then again, maybe I should just keep going and not try to be compatible with -# GitHub-Flavored Markdown. Require that new headings are also new paragraphs. - -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state: (addr screen-position-state) - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state, nrows, ncols - { - render file, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal in, state -} - -fn render-normal in: (addr buffered-file), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') start-bold 0,, render-until-asterisk(in, state), reset - # else if (c == '_') start-bold 0,, render-until-underscore(in, state), reset - # else if (c == '#') compute-color, start color, render-header-line(in, state), reset - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn render-until-asterisk in: (addr buffered-file), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore in: (addr buffered-file), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn render-header-line in: (addr buffered-file), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn init-screen-position-state self: (addr screen-position-state), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var dest/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - # self->leftcol = page-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - # start-drawing(self) -} - -fn start-drawing self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # self->row = toprow - # self->col = leftcol -} - -fn add-char self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { - # print c - # self->col++ - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) -} - -fn next-line self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # self->row++ - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) -} - -fn next-page self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + 5 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width -} - -fn done-drawing? self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - # self->rightcol >= self->ncols -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/README.md b/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 7605c390..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7 +0,0 @@ -More OO. Create a similar set of helpers for reading characters from disk. - -It's surprising that state for supporting headings needs to go into the state -maintained while reading the file from disk. - -Since we now have two 'classes', it seems worth splitting up into multiple -files. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index c4339cef..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,34 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - at-start-of-line?: boolean - heading-level?: int -} - -fn init-file-state self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { -#? var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - load-buffer-file self, filename - # self->at-start-of-line? = true - # self->heading-level? = 0 -} - -fn done-reading? self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 7ccd4b4b..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,106 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state: (addr screen-position-state) - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state, nrows, ncols - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-reading? fs - compare done?, 0 - break-if-= - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') start-bold 0,, render-until-asterisk(fs, state), reset - # else if (c == '_') start-bold 0,, render-until-underscore(fs, state), reset - # else if (c == '#' and fs is at start of line) compute-color, start color, render-header-line(fs, state), reset - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn render-header-line fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - # else add-char(state, c) - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index e5767de8..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/17-file-state-broken/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,50 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state self: (addr screen-position-state), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var dest/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - # self->leftcol = page-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - # start-drawing(self) -} - -fn start-drawing self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # self->row = toprow - # self->col = leftcol -} - -fn add-char self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { - # print c - # self->col++ - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) -} - -fn next-line self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # self->row++ - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) -} - -fn next-page self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + 5 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width -} - -fn done-drawing? self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - # self->rightcol >= self->ncols -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/18/README.md b/prototypes/browse/18/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 51f9878a..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/18/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8 +0,0 @@ -Start fleshing out the previous prototype's plans into something working. - -We're back to just plain text without bold formatting. Let's get something -like prototype 3 working with the new architecture. Since Mu still has no -checks we need to move slowly. - -One issue with this architecture: I have separate checks for `next-char == -EOF` and `done-reading? fs`. I'm gonna tolerate that duplication for now. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/18/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/18/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/18/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/18/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/18/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index f98e9a2b..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/18/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,33 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - render fs - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state) { - render-normal fs -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state) { - { - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/19/README.md b/prototypes/browse/19/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 042af867..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/19/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4 +0,0 @@ -Fill in screen state code. - -It's not quite working yet. We don't handle newlines, and that causes the -row/col computations to go out of sync. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/19/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/19/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/19/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/19/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/19/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 62a603bc..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/19/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,50 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/19/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/19/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 06efa4ba..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/19/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,136 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - # page-height (temporary) - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, 0x22 # top-margin + page-height - # self->leftcol = page-margin - dest <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *dest, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - dest <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *dest, 0xa # left-margin + page-width - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # TMP - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - increment *tmp -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # TMP - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var tmp/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, botrow - var max/ecx: int <- copy *tmp -$done-drawing?:check: { - compare *r, max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:check - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } - } -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/2.mu b/prototypes/browse/2.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 6bfacfe4..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/2.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,32 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - dump file - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - out <- lookup result -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/20/README.md b/prototypes/browse/20/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index d9d5864c..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/20/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Handle newlines. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/20/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/20/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/20/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/20/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/20/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 62a603bc..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/20/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,50 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/20/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/20/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 2f61f3e7..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/20/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,145 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - # page-height (temporary) - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, 0x22 # top-margin + page-height - # self->leftcol = page-margin - dest <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *dest, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - dest <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *dest, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # TMP - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - increment *tmp -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # TMP - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var tmp/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, botrow - var max/ecx: int <- copy *tmp -$done-drawing?:check: { - compare *r, max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:check - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } - } -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/21/README.md b/prototypes/browse/21/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index baa760a2..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/21/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Switch page-height to nrows. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/21/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/21/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/21/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/21/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/21/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 62a603bc..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/21/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,50 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/21/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/21/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index e740a141..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/21/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,144 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->leftcol = page-margin - dest <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *dest, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - dest <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *dest, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # TMP - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - increment *tmp -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - # TMP - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var tmp/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, botrow - var max/ecx: int <- copy *tmp -$done-drawing?:check: { - compare *r, max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:check - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } - } -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/22/README.md b/prototypes/browse/22/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 15f5b192..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/22/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Multiple pages. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/22/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/22/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/22/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/22/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/22/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 62a603bc..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/22/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,50 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/22/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/22/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 72b8e5b5..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/22/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,164 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->leftcol = page-margin - dest <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *dest, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - dest <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *dest, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/README.md b/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index d1406004..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Paginate to next page. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 361e3654..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,52 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 9fb410f8..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/23-multiple-pages/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,165 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/README.md b/prototypes/browse/24-bold/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index a6ecec26..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Support bold text. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/24-bold/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/24-bold/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 162080f9..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,120 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - normal-text - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { -$render-normal:body: { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') switch to bold - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - start-bold 0 - render-until-asterisk fs, state - normal-text - loop $render-normal:body - } - # if (c == '_') switch to bold - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - start-bold 0 - render-until-underscore fs, state - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - loop $render-normal:body - } - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn normal-text { - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/24-bold/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 9fb410f8..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/24-bold/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,165 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/README.md b/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index df2a2ba9..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5 +0,0 @@ -Support soft newlines. - -Single newline = ignore. -Two newlines = print both. -Newline then space = print both. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 279ef3fa..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,164 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - normal-text - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - var newline-seen?/esi: boolean <- copy 0 # false -$render-normal:loop: { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - - ## if (c == newline) perform some fairly sophisticated parsing for soft newlines - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - # if it's the first newline, buffer it - compare newline-seen?, 0 - { - break-if-!= - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # otherwise render two newlines - { - break-if-= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - add-char state, 0xa # newline - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - loop $render-normal:loop - } - } - # if c is unprintable (particularly a '\r' CR), skip it - compare c, 0x20 - loop-if-< - # If there's a newline buffered and c is a space, print the buffered - # newline (hard newline). - # If there's a newline buffered and c is not a newline or space, print a - # space (soft newline). - compare newline-seen?, 0 # false -$render-normal:flush-buffered-newline: { - break-if-= - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - { - compare c, 0x20 - break-if-!= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - break $render-normal:flush-buffered-newline - } - add-char state, 0x20 # space - # fall through to print c - } - ## end soft newline support - - # if (c == '*') switch to bold - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - start-bold 0 - render-until-asterisk fs, state - normal-text - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # if (c == '_') switch to bold - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - start-bold 0 - render-until-underscore fs, state - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn normal-text { - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 7b53ae07..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/25-soft-newlines/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,172 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0xa - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0x20 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 # Comment this out to debug with a tiny page. You'll also need to adjust rightcol below. - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, 0x1f # ncols - 1 - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 -#? # temporary: stop -#? tmp <- get self, ncols -#? tmp2 <- copy *tmp -#? tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # real: multiple pages - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/README.md b/prototypes/browse/26-headers/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 6abb7af9..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Support headers. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/26-headers/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/26-headers/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 51af6013..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,252 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - normal-text - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - var newline-seen?/esi: boolean <- copy 0 # false -$render-normal:loop: { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - - ## if (c == newline) perform some fairly sophisticated parsing for soft newlines - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - # if it's the first newline, buffer it - compare newline-seen?, 0 - { - break-if-!= - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # otherwise render two newlines - { - break-if-= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - add-char state, 0xa # newline - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - loop $render-normal:loop - } - } - # if c is unprintable (particularly a '\r' CR), skip it - compare c, 0x20 - loop-if-< - # If there's a newline buffered and c is a space, print the buffered - # newline (hard newline). - # If there's a newline buffered and c is not a newline or space, print a - # space (soft newline). - compare newline-seen?, 0 # false -$render-normal:flush-buffered-newline: { - break-if-= - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - { - compare c, 0x20 - break-if-!= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - break $render-normal:flush-buffered-newline - } - add-char state, 0x20 # space - # fall through to print c - } - ## end soft newline support - - # if c == '#', switch to header - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - { - break-if-!= - render-header-line fs, state - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - loop $render-normal:loop - } - - # if (c == '*') switch to bold - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - start-bold 0 - render-until-asterisk fs, state - normal-text - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # if (c == '_') switch to bold - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - start-bold 0 - render-until-underscore fs, state - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-header-line fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { -$render-header-line:body: { - # compute color based on number of '#'s - var header-level/esi: int <- copy 1 # caller already grabbed one - var c/eax: byte <- copy 0 - { - # if done-drawing?(state) return - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= $render-header-line:body - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c != '#') break - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - break-if-!= - # - header-level <- increment - # - loop - } - start-heading header-level - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == newline) break - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } - normal-text -} -} - -# colors for a light background, going from bright to dark (meeting up with bold-text) -fn start-heading header-level: int { -$start-heading:body: { - start-bold 0 - compare header-level, 1 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xa0, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 2 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x7c, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 3 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x58, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 4 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x34, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - start-color 0, 0xe8, 7 -} -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn normal-text { - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/26-headers/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 7b53ae07..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/26-headers/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,172 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0xa - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0x20 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 # Comment this out to debug with a tiny page. You'll also need to adjust rightcol below. - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, 0x1f # ncols - 1 - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 -#? # temporary: stop -#? tmp <- get self, ncols -#? tmp2 <- copy *tmp -#? tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # real: multiple pages - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/27/README.md b/prototypes/browse/27/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 09813c57..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/27/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Don't treat '#'s inside lines as headers. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/27/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/27/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/27/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/27/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/27/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 176c133e..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/27/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,259 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - normal-text - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - var newline-seen?/esi: boolean <- copy 0 # false - var start-of-paragraph?/edi: boolean <- copy 1 # true -$render-normal:loop: { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - - ## if (c == newline) perform some fairly sophisticated parsing for soft newlines - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - # if it's the first newline, buffer it - compare newline-seen?, 0 - { - break-if-!= - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # otherwise render two newlines - { - break-if-= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - add-char state, 0xa # newline - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - start-of-paragraph? <- copy 1 # true - loop $render-normal:loop - } - } - # if start of paragraph and c == '#', switch to header - compare start-of-paragraph?, 0 - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - { - break-if-!= - render-header-line fs, state - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - loop $render-normal:loop - } - } - # c is not a newline - start-of-paragraph? <- copy 0 # false - # if c is unprintable (particularly a '\r' CR), skip it - compare c, 0x20 - loop-if-< - # If there's a newline buffered and c is a space, print the buffered - # newline (hard newline). - # If there's a newline buffered and c is not a newline or space, print a - # space (soft newline). - compare newline-seen?, 0 # false -$render-normal:flush-buffered-newline: { - break-if-= - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - { - compare c, 0x20 - break-if-!= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - break $render-normal:flush-buffered-newline - } - add-char state, 0x20 # space - # fall through to print c - } - ## end soft newline support - - # if (c == '*') switch to bold - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - start-bold 0 - render-until-asterisk fs, state - normal-text - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # if (c == '_') switch to bold - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - start-bold 0 - render-until-underscore fs, state - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - loop $render-normal:loop - } - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } # $render-normal:loop -} - -fn render-header-line fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { -$render-header-line:body: { - # compute color based on number of '#'s - var header-level/esi: int <- copy 1 # caller already grabbed one - var c/eax: byte <- copy 0 - { - # if done-drawing?(state) return - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= $render-header-line:body - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c != '#') break - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - break-if-!= - # - header-level <- increment - # - loop - } - start-heading header-level - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == newline) break - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } - normal-text -} -} - -# colors for a light background, going from bright to dark (meeting up with bold-text) -fn start-heading header-level: int { -$start-heading:body: { - start-bold 0 - compare header-level, 1 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xa0, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 2 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x7c, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 3 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x58, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 4 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x34, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - start-color 0, 0xe8, 7 -} -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn normal-text { - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/27/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/27/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 7b53ae07..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/27/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,172 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0xa - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0x20 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 # Comment this out to debug with a tiny page. You'll also need to adjust rightcol below. - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, 0x1f # ncols - 1 - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 -#? # temporary: stop -#? tmp <- get self, ncols -#? tmp2 <- copy *tmp -#? tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # real: multiple pages - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/28/README.md b/prototypes/browse/28/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index f0128bde..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/28/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Start including state about previous character. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/28/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/28/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/28/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/28/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/28/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index c9e78b2c..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/28/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,261 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - normal-text - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - var newline-seen?/esi: boolean <- copy 0 # false - var start-of-paragraph?/edi: boolean <- copy 1 # true - var previous-char/ebx: byte <- copy 0 -$render-normal:loop: { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs -$render-normal:loop-body: { - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $render-normal:loop - - ## if (c == newline) perform some fairly sophisticated parsing for soft newlines - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - # if it's the first newline, buffer it - compare newline-seen?, 0 - { - break-if-!= - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - # otherwise render two newlines - { - break-if-= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - add-char state, 0xa # newline - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - start-of-paragraph? <- copy 1 # true - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - } - # if start of paragraph and c == '#', switch to header - compare start-of-paragraph?, 0 - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - { - break-if-!= - render-header-line fs, state - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - } - # c is not a newline - start-of-paragraph? <- copy 0 # false - # if c is unprintable (particularly a '\r' CR), skip it - compare c, 0x20 - loop-if-< $render-normal:loop - # If there's a newline buffered and c is a space, print the buffered - # newline (hard newline). - # If there's a newline buffered and c is not a newline or space, print a - # space (soft newline). - compare newline-seen?, 0 # false -$render-normal:flush-buffered-newline: { - break-if-= - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - { - compare c, 0x20 - break-if-!= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - break $render-normal:flush-buffered-newline - } - add-char state, 0x20 # space - # fall through to print c - } - ## end soft newline support - - # if (c == '*') switch to bold - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - start-bold 0 - render-until-asterisk fs, state - normal-text - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - # if (c == '_') switch to bold - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - start-bold 0 - render-until-underscore fs, state - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - # - add-char state, c - } # $render-normal:loop-body - previous-char <- copy c - loop - } # $render-normal:loop -} - -fn render-header-line fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { -$render-header-line:body: { - # compute color based on number of '#'s - var header-level/esi: int <- copy 1 # caller already grabbed one - var c/eax: byte <- copy 0 - { - # if done-drawing?(state) return - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= $render-header-line:body - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c != '#') break - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - break-if-!= - # - header-level <- increment - # - loop - } - start-heading header-level - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == newline) break - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } - normal-text -} -} - -# colors for a light background, going from bright to dark (meeting up with bold-text) -fn start-heading header-level: int { -$start-heading:body: { - start-bold 0 - compare header-level, 1 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xa0, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 2 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x7c, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 3 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x58, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 4 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x34, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - start-color 0, 0xe8, 7 -} -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn normal-text { - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/28/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/28/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 7b53ae07..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/28/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,172 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0xa - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0x20 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 # Comment this out to debug with a tiny page. You'll also need to adjust rightcol below. - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, 0x1f # ncols - 1 - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 -#? # temporary: stop -#? tmp <- get self, ncols -#? tmp2 <- copy *tmp -#? tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # real: multiple pages - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/29/README.md b/prototypes/browse/29/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index e1bb7799..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/29/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -Be more selective about bold sections. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/29/file-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/29/file-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index d42bf8bf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/29/file-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,45 +0,0 @@ -type file-state { - source: (handle buffered-file) - eof?: boolean -} - -fn init-file-state _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - load-file self, filename - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 0 # false -} - -fn load-file _self: (addr file-state), filename: (addr array byte) { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var out/esi: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - open filename, 0, out # 0 = read mode -} - -fn next-char _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: byte { - var self/ecx: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var source/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- get self, source - var in/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup *source - result <- read-byte-buffered in - # if result == EOF, set eof? - compare result, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - { - var eof/ecx: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - copy-to *eof, 1 # true - } -} - -fn done-reading? _self: (addr file-state) -> result/eax: boolean { - var self/eax: (addr file-state) <- copy _self - var eof/eax: (addr boolean) <- get self, eof? - result <- copy *eof -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/29/main.mu b/prototypes/browse/29/main.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 08e4f3c6..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/29/main.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,271 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - # initialize fs from args[1] - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file-state-storage: file-state - var fs/esi: (addr file-state) <- address file-state-storage - init-file-state fs, filename - # - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - # initialize screen state from screen size - var screen-position-state-storage: screen-position-state - var screen-position-state/eax: (addr screen-position-state) <- address screen-position-state-storage - init-screen-position-state screen-position-state - normal-text - { - render fs, screen-position-state - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - start-drawing state - render-normal fs, state -} - -fn render-normal fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - var newline-seen?/esi: boolean <- copy 0 # false - var start-of-paragraph?/edi: boolean <- copy 1 # true - var previous-char/ebx: byte <- copy 0 -$render-normal:loop: { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs -$render-normal:loop-body: { - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $render-normal:loop - - ## if (c == newline) perform some fairly sophisticated parsing for soft newlines - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - # if it's the first newline, buffer it - compare newline-seen?, 0 - { - break-if-!= - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - # otherwise render two newlines - { - break-if-= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - add-char state, 0xa # newline - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - start-of-paragraph? <- copy 1 # true - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - } - # if start of paragraph and c == '#', switch to header - compare start-of-paragraph?, 0 - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - { - break-if-!= - render-header-line fs, state - newline-seen? <- copy 1 # true - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - } - # c is not a newline - start-of-paragraph? <- copy 0 # false - # if c is unprintable (particularly a '\r' CR), skip it - compare c, 0x20 - loop-if-< $render-normal:loop - # If there's a newline buffered and c is a space, print the buffered - # newline (hard newline). - # If there's a newline buffered and c is not a newline or space, print a - # space (soft newline). - compare newline-seen?, 0 # false -$render-normal:flush-buffered-newline: { - break-if-= - newline-seen? <- copy 0 # false - { - compare c, 0x20 - break-if-!= - add-char state, 0xa # newline - break $render-normal:flush-buffered-newline - } - add-char state, 0x20 # space - # fall through to print c - } - ## end soft newline support - -$render-normal:whitespace-separated-regions: { - # if previous-char wasn't whitespace, skip this block - { - compare previous-char, 0x20 # space - break-if-= - compare previous-char, 0xa # newline - break-if-= - break $render-normal:whitespace-separated-regions - } - # if (c == '*') switch to bold - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - start-bold 0 - render-until-asterisk fs, state - normal-text - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - # if (c == '_') switch to bold - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - start-bold 0 - render-until-underscore fs, state - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - break $render-normal:loop-body - } - } - # - add-char state, c - } # $render-normal:loop-body - previous-char <- copy c - loop - } # $render-normal:loop -} - -fn render-header-line fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { -$render-header-line:body: { - # compute color based on number of '#'s - var header-level/esi: int <- copy 1 # caller already grabbed one - var c/eax: byte <- copy 0 - { - # if done-drawing?(state) return - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= $render-header-line:body - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c != '#') break - compare c, 0x23 # '#' - break-if-!= - # - header-level <- increment - # - loop - } - start-heading header-level - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - { - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - } - # - c <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == newline) break - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } - normal-text -} -} - -# colors for a light background, going from bright to dark (meeting up with bold-text) -fn start-heading header-level: int { -$start-heading:body: { - start-bold 0 - compare header-level, 1 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0xa0, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 2 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x7c, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 3 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x58, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - compare header-level, 4 - { - break-if-!= - start-color 0, 0x34, 7 - break $start-heading:body - } - start-color 0, 0xe8, 7 -} -} - -fn render-until-asterisk fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '*') break - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn render-until-underscore fs: (addr file-state), state: (addr screen-position-state) { - { - # if done-drawing?(state) break - var done?/eax: boolean <- done-drawing? state - compare done?, 0 # false - break-if-!= - # - var c/eax: byte <- next-char fs - # if (c == EOF) break - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - # if (c == '_') break - compare c, 0x5f # '_' - break-if-= - # - add-char state, c - # - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn normal-text { - reset-formatting 0 - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/29/screen-position-state.mu b/prototypes/browse/29/screen-position-state.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 7b53ae07..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/29/screen-position-state.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,172 +0,0 @@ -type screen-position-state { - nrows: int # const - ncols: int # const - toprow: int - botrow: int - leftcol: int - rightcol: int - row: int - col: int -} - -fn init-screen-position-state _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0xa - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0x20 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 # Comment this out to debug with a tiny page. You'll also need to adjust rightcol below. - var dest/edx: (addr int) <- copy 0 - # self->nrows = nrows - dest <- get self, nrows - copy-to *dest, nrows - # self->ncols = ncols - dest <- get self, ncols - copy-to *dest, ncols - # self->toprow = top-margin - dest <- get self, toprow - copy-to *dest, 2 # top-margin - # self->botrow = nrows - dest <- get self, botrow - copy-to *dest, nrows - # - start-drawing self -} - -fn start-drawing _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - clear-screen 0 - # self->leftcol = page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, 5 # left-margin - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, 0x1f # ncols - 1 - copy-to *tmp, 0x45 # left-margin + page-width - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # - reposition-cursor self -} - -fn add-char _self: (addr screen-position-state), c: byte { -$add-char:body: { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - { - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-!= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - break $add-char:body - } - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - # self->col++ - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, col - increment *tmp - # if (self->col > self->rightcol) next-line(self) - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, rightcol - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-line self - reposition-cursor self - } -} -} - -fn next-line _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row++ - tmp <- get self, row - increment *tmp - # if (self->row > self->botrow) next-page(self) - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, botrow - compare tmp2, *tmp - { - break-if-<= - next-page self - } -} - -fn next-page _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- copy 0 - var tmp2/ecx: int <- copy 0 -#? # temporary: stop -#? tmp <- get self, ncols -#? tmp2 <- copy *tmp -#? tmp <- get self, rightcol -#? copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # real: multiple pages - # self->leftcol = self->rightcol + page-margin - tmp <- get self, rightcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 5 # page-margin - tmp <- get self, leftcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->rightcol = self->leftcol + page-width - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp2 <- add 0x40 # page-width - tmp <- get self, rightcol - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->row = self->toprow - tmp <- get self, toprow - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, row - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 - # self->col = self->leftcol - tmp <- get self, leftcol - tmp2 <- copy *tmp - tmp <- get self, col - copy-to *tmp, tmp2 -} - -fn done-drawing? _self: (addr screen-position-state) -> result/eax: boolean { -$done-drawing?:body: { - # return self->rightcol >= self->ncols - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var max/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, ncols - var tmp/eax: (addr int) <- get self, rightcol - var right/eax: int <- copy *tmp - compare right, *max - { - break-if->= - result <- copy 0 # false - break $done-drawing?:body - } - { - break-if-< - result <- copy 1 # true - } -} -} - -fn reposition-cursor _self: (addr screen-position-state) { - var self/esi: (addr screen-position-state) <- copy _self - var r/eax: (addr int) <- get self, row - var c/ecx: (addr int) <- get self, col - move-cursor 0, *r *c -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/3.mu b/prototypes/browse/3.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 95fc235c..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/3.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,30 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - dump file - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - out <- lookup result -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/4-render-page.mu b/prototypes/browse/4-render-page.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 0af47b40..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/4-render-page.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,83 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, 5, 5, 0x30, 0x30 - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - out <- lookup result -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/5.mu b/prototypes/browse/5.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 5952e8c9..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/5.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,85 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, 5, 5, 0x30, 0x30 - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - out <- lookup result -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/6.mu b/prototypes/browse/6.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 489c6938..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/6.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,96 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, 0x20, 0x30 # nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # hardcoded parameter: page-width - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy toprow - botrow <- add nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add ncols - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - out <- lookup result -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/7.mu b/prototypes/browse/7.mu deleted file mode 100644 index f306e9b5..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/7.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,101 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # hardcoded parameter: page-width - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy toprow - botrow <- add 0x20 - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x30 - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/8-multiple-pages.mu b/prototypes/browse/8-multiple-pages.mu deleted file mode 100644 index b4156cd9..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/8-multiple-pages.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,117 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit n pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/9-bold.mu b/prototypes/browse/9-bold.mu deleted file mode 100644 index f0b5fded..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/9-bold.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,154 +0,0 @@ -fn main args: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var filename/eax: (addr array byte) <- first-arg args - var file/esi: (addr buffered-file) <- load-file filename - enable-screen-grid-mode - var nrows/eax: int <- copy 0 - var ncols/ecx: int <- copy 0 - nrows, ncols <- screen-size 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - { - render file, nrows, ncols - var key/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare key, 0x71 # 'q' - loop-if-!= - } - enable-keyboard-type-mode - enable-screen-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -type render-state { - current-state: int # enum 0: normal, 1: bold -} - -# decide how to lay out pages on screen -fn render in: (addr buffered-file), nrows: int, ncols: int { - # Fit multiple pages on screen on separate columns, each wide enough to read - # comfortably. - # Pages are separated horizontally by a 'page margin'. Among other reasons, - # this allows the odd line to bleed out on the right if necessary. - # - # hardcoded parameters: - # top-margin - # page-margin - # page-width - var _r: render-state - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- address _r - var toprow/eax: int <- copy 2 # top-margin - var botrow/ecx: int <- copy nrows - var leftcol/edx: int <- copy 5 # page-margin - var rightcol/ebx: int <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width = 64 characters - start-color 0, 0xec, 7 # 236 = darkish gray - { - compare rightcol, ncols - break-if->= - render-page in, toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol, r - leftcol <- copy rightcol - leftcol <- add 5 # page-margin - rightcol <- copy leftcol - rightcol <- add 0x40 # page-width - loop - } -} - -fn render-page in: (addr buffered-file), toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int, r: (addr render-state) { - clear toprow, leftcol, botrow, rightcol - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow -$line-loop: { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= $line-loop - update-attributes c, r - compare c, 0xa # newline - break-if-= # no need to print newlines - # print c - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } # $char-loop - row <- increment - loop - } # $line-loop -} - -fn update-attributes c: byte, _r: (addr render-state) { - var r/edi: (addr render-state) <- copy _r - var state/esi: (addr int) <- get r, current-state -$check-state: { - compare *state, 0 # normal - { - break-if-!= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 0 && c == '*' => bold text - start-bold 0 - copy-to *state, 1 - } - break $check-state - } - { - break-if-= - compare c, 0x2a # '*' - { - break-if-!= - # r->current-state == 1 && c == '*' => normal text - reset-formatting 0 - copy-to *state, 0 - } - } - } # $check-state -} - -fn clear toprow: int, leftcol: int, botrow: int, rightcol: int { - var row/ecx: int <- copy toprow - { - compare row, botrow - break-if->= - var col/edx: int <- copy leftcol - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, rightcol - break-if->= - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - row <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn first-arg args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> out/eax: (addr array byte) { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var result/eax: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - out <- copy *result -} - -fn load-file filename: (addr array byte) -> out/esi: (addr buffered-file) { - var result: (handle buffered-file) - { - var tmp1/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address result - open filename, 0, tmp1 - } - var tmp2/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup result - out <- copy tmp2 -} - -fn dump in: (addr buffered-file) { - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered in - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - loop -} diff --git a/prototypes/browse/README.md b/prototypes/browse/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 8e0152cf..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13 +0,0 @@ -# Render text with word-wrap. - -This directory contains a series of prototypes. For more details on the -organization of this directory and building, see [the parent directory](..). - -Once you've followed the instructions for building a prototype, try running it -with some text file: - -``` -$ ./a.elf __text_file__ -``` - -If you need to quit, press 'q'. diff --git a/prototypes/browse/cities.txt b/prototypes/browse/cities.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 03b47466..00000000 --- a/prototypes/browse/cities.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16273 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: A Tale of Two Cities - A Story of the French Revolution - -Author: Charles Dickens - -Release Date: January, 1994 [EBook #98] -Posting Date: November 28, 2009 -[This file last updated: January 23, 2011] -[Last updated: November 27, 2013] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF TWO CITIES *** - - - - -Produced by Judith Boss - - - - - - - - -A TALE OF TWO CITIES - -A STORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION - -By Charles Dickens - - -CONTENTS - - - Book the First--Recalled to Life - - Chapter I The Period - Chapter II The Mail - Chapter III The Night Shadows - Chapter IV The Preparation - Chapter V The Wine-shop - Chapter VI The Shoemaker - - - Book the Second--the Golden Thread - - Chapter I Five Years Later - Chapter II A Sight - Chapter III A Disappointment - Chapter IV Congratulatory - Chapter V The Jackal - Chapter VI Hundreds of People - Chapter VII Monseigneur in Town - Chapter VIII Monseigneur in the Country - Chapter IX The Gorgon's Head - Chapter X Two Promises - Chapter XI A Companion Picture - Chapter XII The Fellow of Delicacy - Chapter XIII The Fellow of no Delicacy - Chapter XIV The Honest Tradesman - Chapter XV Knitting - Chapter XVI Still Knitting - Chapter XVII One Night - Chapter XVIII Nine Days - Chapter XIX An Opinion - Chapter XX A Plea - Chapter XXI Echoing Footsteps - Chapter XXII The Sea Still Rises - Chapter XXIII Fire Rises - Chapter XXIV Drawn to the Loadstone Rock - - - Book the Third--the Track of a Storm - - Chapter I In Secret - Chapter II The Grindstone - Chapter III The Shadow - Chapter IV Calm in Storm - Chapter V The Wood-sawyer - Chapter VI Triumph - Chapter VII A Knock at the Door - Chapter VIII A Hand at Cards - Chapter IX The Game Made - Chapter X The Substance of the Shadow - Chapter XI Dusk - Chapter XII Darkness - Chapter XIII Fifty-two - Chapter XIV The Knitting Done - Chapter XV The Footsteps Die Out For Ever - - - - - -Book the First--Recalled to Life - - - - -I. The Period - - -It was the best of times, -it was the worst of times, -it was the age of wisdom, -it was the age of foolishness, -it was the epoch of belief, -it was the epoch of incredulity, -it was the season of Light, -it was the season of Darkness, -it was the spring of hope, -it was the winter of despair, -we had everything before us, -we had nothing before us, -we were all going direct to Heaven, -we were all going direct the other way-- -in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of -its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for -evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. - -There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the -throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with -a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer -than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, -that things in general were settled for ever. - -It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. -Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, -as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth -blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had -heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were -made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane -ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its -messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally -deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the -earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, -from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange -to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any -communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane -brood. - -France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her -sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down -hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her -Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane -achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue -torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not -kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks -which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty -yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and -Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, -already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into -boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in -it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses -of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were -sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with -rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which -the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of -the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work -unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about -with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion -that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous. - -In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to -justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and -highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; -families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing -their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman -in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and -challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of -"the Captain," gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the -mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and -then got shot dead himself by the other four, "in consequence of the -failure of his ammunition:" after which the mail was robbed in peace; -that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand -and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the -illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London -gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law -fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; -thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at -Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search -for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the -musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences -much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy -and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing -up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on -Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the -hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of -Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, -and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of -sixpence. - -All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close -upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. -Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, -those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the -fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights -with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred -and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small -creatures--the creatures of this chronicle among the rest--along the -roads that lay before them. - - - - -II. The Mail - - -It was the Dover road that lay, on a Friday night late in November, -before the first of the persons with whom this history has business. -The Dover road lay, as to him, beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered up -Shooter's Hill. He walked up hill in the mire by the side of the mail, -as the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish -for walking exercise, under the circumstances, but because the hill, -and the harness, and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy, that the -horses had three times already come to a stop, besides once drawing the -coach across the road, with the mutinous intent of taking it back -to Blackheath. Reins and whip and coachman and guard, however, in -combination, had read that article of war which forbade a purpose -otherwise strongly in favour of the argument, that some brute animals -are endued with Reason; and the team had capitulated and returned to -their duty. - -With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way through -the thick mud, floundering and stumbling between whiles, as if they were -falling to pieces at the larger joints. As often as the driver rested -them and brought them to a stand, with a wary "Wo-ho! so-ho-then!" the -near leader violently shook his head and everything upon it--like an -unusually emphatic horse, denying that the coach could be got up the -hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle, the passenger started, as a -nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind. - -There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its -forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding -none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the -air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the -waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out -everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings, -and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed -into it, as if they had made it all. - -Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by the -side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheekbones and over the -ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from -anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was -hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as from -the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers -were very shy of being confidential on a short notice, for anybody on -the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter, -when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in -"the Captain's" pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable -non-descript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard -of the Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one -thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as -he stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet, -and keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a -loaded blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, -deposited on a substratum of cutlass. - -The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspected -the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they -all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing but -the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have -taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the -journey. - -"Wo-ho!" said the coachman. "So, then! One more pull and you're at the -top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you to -it!--Joe!" - -"Halloa!" the guard replied. - -"What o'clock do you make it, Joe?" - -"Ten minutes, good, past eleven." - -"My blood!" ejaculated the vexed coachman, "and not atop of Shooter's -yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!" - -The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative, -made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed -suit. Once more, the Dover mail struggled on, with the jack-boots of its -passengers squashing along by its side. They had stopped when the coach -stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three -had had the hardihood to propose to another to walk on a little ahead -into the mist and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of -getting shot instantly as a highwayman. - -The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses -stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for -the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in. - -"Tst! Joe!" cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from his -box. - -"What do you say, Tom?" - -They both listened. - -"I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe." - -"_I_ say a horse at a gallop, Tom," returned the guard, leaving his hold -of the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. "Gentlemen! In the king's -name, all of you!" - -With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood on -the offensive. - -The passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step, getting in; -the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. He -remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they remained -in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the guard, -and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman looked -back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader pricked up -his ears and looked back, without contradicting. - -The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labouring -of the coach, added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet -indeed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion to -the coach, as if it were in a state of agitation. The hearts of the -passengers beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate, the -quiet pause was audibly expressive of people out of breath, and holding -the breath, and having the pulses quickened by expectation. - -The sound of a horse at a gallop came fast and furiously up the hill. - -"So-ho!" the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. "Yo there! Stand! -I shall fire!" - -The pace was suddenly checked, and, with much splashing and floundering, -a man's voice called from the mist, "Is that the Dover mail?" - -"Never you mind what it is!" the guard retorted. "What are you?" - -"_Is_ that the Dover mail?" - -"Why do you want to know?" - -"I want a passenger, if it is." - -"What passenger?" - -"Mr. Jarvis Lorry." - -Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The guard, -the coachman, and the two other passengers eyed him distrustfully. - -"Keep where you are," the guard called to the voice in the mist, -"because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right in -your lifetime. Gentleman of the name of Lorry answer straight." - -"What is the matter?" asked the passenger, then, with mildly quavering -speech. "Who wants me? Is it Jerry?" - -("I don't like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry," growled the guard to -himself. "He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.") - -"Yes, Mr. Lorry." - -"What is the matter?" - -"A despatch sent after you from over yonder. T. and Co." - -"I know this messenger, guard," said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the -road--assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two -passengers, who immediately scrambled into the coach, shut the door, and -pulled up the window. "He may come close; there's nothing wrong." - -"I hope there ain't, but I can't make so 'Nation sure of that," said the -guard, in gruff soliloquy. "Hallo you!" - -"Well! And hallo you!" said Jerry, more hoarsely than before. - -"Come on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if you've got holsters to that -saddle o' yourn, don't let me see your hand go nigh 'em. For I'm a devil -at a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead. So -now let's look at you." - -The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist, -and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The rider -stooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passenger -a small folded paper. The rider's horse was blown, and both horse and -rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat of -the man. - -"Guard!" said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence. - -The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised -blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye on the horseman, -answered curtly, "Sir." - -"There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must -know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown -to drink. I may read this?" - -"If so be as you're quick, sir." - -He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and -read--first to himself and then aloud: "'Wait at Dover for Mam'selle.' -It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED -TO LIFE." - -Jerry started in his saddle. "That's a Blazing strange answer, too," -said he, at his hoarsest. - -"Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as -well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night." - -With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at -all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted -their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general -pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape -the hazard of originating any other kind of action. - -The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing round -it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunderbuss -in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and -having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt, -looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a -few smith's tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was -furnished with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown -and stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut -himself up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw, -and get a light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in -five minutes. - -"Tom!" softly over the coach roof. - -"Hallo, Joe." - -"Did you hear the message?" - -"I did, Joe." - -"What did you make of it, Tom?" - -"Nothing at all, Joe." - -"That's a coincidence, too," the guard mused, "for I made the same of it -myself." - -Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not -only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and -shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of -holding about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his -heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within -hearing and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the -hill. - -"After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won't trust your -fore-legs till I get you on the level," said this hoarse messenger, -glancing at his mare. "'Recalled to life.' That's a Blazing strange -message. Much of that wouldn't do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You'd -be in a Blazing bad way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, -Jerry!" - - - - -III. The Night Shadows - - -A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is -constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A -solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every -one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every -room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating -heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of -its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the -awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this. No more can I -turn the leaves of this dear book that I loved, and vainly hope in time -to read it all. No more can I look into the depths of this unfathomable -water, wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it, I have had glimpses -of buried treasure and other things submerged. It was appointed that the -book should shut with a spring, for ever and for ever, when I had read -but a page. It was appointed that the water should be locked in an -eternal frost, when the light was playing on its surface, and I stood -in ignorance on the shore. My friend is dead, my neighbour is dead, -my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it is the inexorable -consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was always in that -individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life's end. In -any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there -a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their -innermost personality, to me, or than I am to them? - -As to this, his natural and not to be alienated inheritance, the -messenger on horseback had exactly the same possessions as the King, the -first Minister of State, or the richest merchant in London. So with the -three passengers shut up in the narrow compass of one lumbering old mail -coach; they were mysteries to one another, as complete as if each had -been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with the -breadth of a county between him and the next. - -The messenger rode back at an easy trot, stopping pretty often at -ale-houses by the way to drink, but evincing a tendency to keep his -own counsel, and to keep his hat cocked over his eyes. He had eyes that -assorted very well with that decoration, being of a surface black, with -no depth in the colour or form, and much too near together--as if they -were afraid of being found out in something, singly, if they kept too -far apart. They had a sinister expression, under an old cocked-hat like -a three-cornered spittoon, and over a great muffler for the chin and -throat, which descended nearly to the wearer's knees. When he stopped -for drink, he moved this muffler with his left hand, only while he -poured his liquor in with his right; as soon as that was done, he -muffled again. - -"No, Jerry, no!" said the messenger, harping on one theme as he rode. -"It wouldn't do for you, Jerry. Jerry, you honest tradesman, it wouldn't -suit _your_ line of business! Recalled--! Bust me if I don't think he'd -been a drinking!" - -His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, several -times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown, -which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all -over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was -so like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked -wall than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might -have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over. - -While he trotted back with the message he was to deliver to the night -watchman in his box at the door of Tellson's Bank, by Temple Bar, who -was to deliver it to greater authorities within, the shadows of the -night took such shapes to him as arose out of the message, and took such -shapes to the mare as arose out of _her_ private topics of uneasiness. -They seemed to be numerous, for she shied at every shadow on the road. - -What time, the mail-coach lumbered, jolted, rattled, and bumped upon -its tedious way, with its three fellow-inscrutables inside. To whom, -likewise, the shadows of the night revealed themselves, in the forms -their dozing eyes and wandering thoughts suggested. - -Tellson's Bank had a run upon it in the mail. As the bank -passenger--with an arm drawn through the leathern strap, which did what -lay in it to keep him from pounding against the next passenger, -and driving him into his corner, whenever the coach got a special -jolt--nodded in his place, with half-shut eyes, the little -coach-windows, and the coach-lamp dimly gleaming through them, and the -bulky bundle of opposite passenger, became the bank, and did a great -stroke of business. The rattle of the harness was the chink of money, -and more drafts were honoured in five minutes than even Tellson's, with -all its foreign and home connection, ever paid in thrice the time. Then -the strong-rooms underground, at Tellson's, with such of their valuable -stores and secrets as were known to the passenger (and it was not a -little that he knew about them), opened before him, and he went in among -them with the great keys and the feebly-burning candle, and found them -safe, and strong, and sound, and still, just as he had last seen them. - -But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the coach -(in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was -always with him, there was another current of impression that never -ceased to run, all through the night. He was on his way to dig some one -out of a grave. - -Now, which of the multitude of faces that showed themselves before him -was the true face of the buried person, the shadows of the night did -not indicate; but they were all the faces of a man of five-and-forty by -years, and they differed principally in the passions they expressed, -and in the ghastliness of their worn and wasted state. Pride, contempt, -defiance, stubbornness, submission, lamentation, succeeded one another; -so did varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous colour, emaciated hands -and figures. But the face was in the main one face, and every head was -prematurely white. A hundred times the dozing passenger inquired of this -spectre: - -"Buried how long?" - -The answer was always the same: "Almost eighteen years." - -"You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?" - -"Long ago." - -"You know that you are recalled to life?" - -"They tell me so." - -"I hope you care to live?" - -"I can't say." - -"Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see her?" - -The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Sometimes -the broken reply was, "Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too soon." -Sometimes, it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was, -"Take me to her." Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it -was, "I don't know her. I don't understand." - -After such imaginary discourse, the passenger in his fancy would dig, -and dig, dig--now with a spade, now with a great key, now with his -hands--to dig this wretched creature out. Got out at last, with earth -hanging about his face and hair, he would suddenly fan away to dust. The -passenger would then start to himself, and lower the window, to get the -reality of mist and rain on his cheek. - -Yet even when his eyes were opened on the mist and rain, on the moving -patch of light from the lamps, and the hedge at the roadside retreating -by jerks, the night shadows outside the coach would fall into the train -of the night shadows within. The real Banking-house by Temple Bar, the -real business of the past day, the real strong rooms, the real express -sent after him, and the real message returned, would all be there. Out -of the midst of them, the ghostly face would rise, and he would accost -it again. - -"Buried how long?" - -"Almost eighteen years." - -"I hope you care to live?" - -"I can't say." - -Dig--dig--dig--until an impatient movement from one of the two -passengers would admonish him to pull up the window, draw his arm -securely through the leathern strap, and speculate upon the two -slumbering forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and they again -slid away into the bank and the grave. - -"Buried how long?" - -"Almost eighteen years." - -"You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?" - -"Long ago." - -The words were still in his hearing as just spoken--distinctly in -his hearing as ever spoken words had been in his life--when the weary -passenger started to the consciousness of daylight, and found that the -shadows of the night were gone. - -He lowered the window, and looked out at the rising sun. There was a -ridge of ploughed land, with a plough upon it where it had been left -last night when the horses were unyoked; beyond, a quiet coppice-wood, -in which many leaves of burning red and golden yellow still remained -upon the trees. Though the earth was cold and wet, the sky was clear, -and the sun rose bright, placid, and beautiful. - -"Eighteen years!" said the passenger, looking at the sun. "Gracious -Creator of day! To be buried alive for eighteen years!" - - - - -IV. The Preparation - - -When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon, -the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his -custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey -from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventurous -traveller upon. - -By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left be -congratulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective -roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp -and dirty straw, its disagreeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather -like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out -of it in chains of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and -muddy legs, was rather like a larger sort of dog. - -"There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?" - -"Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The -tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed, -sir?" - -"I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber." - -"And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please. -Show Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off -gentleman's boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.) -Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!" - -The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by the -mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from -head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the -Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into it, -all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another -drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all -loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord -and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a -brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large -square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to -his breakfast. - -The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman -in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat, -with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, -that he might have been sitting for his portrait. - -Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a -loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat, -as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and -evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain -of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a -fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He -wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his -head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which -looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. -His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, -was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring -beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A -face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the -quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost -their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and -reserved expression of Tellson's Bank. He had a healthy colour in his -cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. -But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson's Bank were -principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps -second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on. - -Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait, -Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him, -and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it: - -"I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here at any -time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a -gentleman from Tellson's Bank. Please to let me know." - -"Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in London, sir?" - -"Yes." - -"Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen in -their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris, sir. A -vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company's House." - -"Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one." - -"Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think, -sir?" - -"Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we--since I--came last -from France." - -"Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people's -time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir." - -"I believe so." - -"But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and -Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen -years ago?" - -"You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from -the truth." - -"Indeed, sir!" - -Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from the -table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left, -dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest while -he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. According to the -immemorial usage of waiters in all ages. - -When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on -the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away -from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine -ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling -wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was -destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and -brought the coast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong -a piscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be -dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dipped in the sea. A little -fishing was done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by -night, and looking seaward: particularly at those times when the tide -made, and was near flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, -sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable -that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter. - -As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been -at intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became -again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry's thoughts seemed to cloud -too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting -his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging, -digging, digging, in the live red coals. - -A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no -harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. -Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last -glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is -ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has -got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow -street, and rumbled into the inn-yard. - -He set down his glass untouched. "This is Mam'selle!" said he. - -In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss Manette -had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gentleman from -Tellson's. - -"So soon?" - -Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required none -then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tellson's -immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience. - -The gentleman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but to empty his -glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen -wig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette's apartment. -It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black -horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and -oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room -were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if _they_ were buried, in deep -graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected -from them until they were dug out. - -The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his -way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for -the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall -candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and -the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak, -and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As -his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden -hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and -a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth -it was), of rifting and knitting itself into an expression that was -not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright -fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions--as his -eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, -of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very -Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran -high. The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of -the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital -procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were -offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the -feminine gender--and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette. - -"Pray take a seat, sir." In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a -little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed. - -"I kiss your hand, miss," said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earlier -date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat. - -"I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that -some intelligence--or discovery--" - -"The word is not material, miss; either word will do." - -"--respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw--so -long dead--" - -Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the -hospital procession of negro cupids. As if _they_ had any help for -anybody in their absurd baskets! - -"--rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communicate -with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris for -the purpose." - -"Myself." - -"As I was prepared to hear, sir." - -She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a -pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he -was than she. He made her another bow. - -"I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by -those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to -France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with -me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, -during the journey, under that worthy gentleman's protection. The -gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to -beg the favour of his waiting for me here." - -"I was happy," said Mr. Lorry, "to be entrusted with the charge. I shall -be more happy to execute it." - -"Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me -by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the -business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising -nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a -strong and eager interest to know what they are." - -"Naturally," said Mr. Lorry. "Yes--I--" - -After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the -ears, "It is very difficult to begin." - -He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young -forehead lifted itself into that singular expression--but it was pretty -and characteristic, besides being singular--and she raised her hand, -as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing -shadow. - -"Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?" - -"Am I not?" Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwards with -an argumentative smile. - -Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of -which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression -deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which -she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and the -moment she raised her eyes again, went on: - -"In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address you -as a young English lady, Miss Manette?" - -"If you please, sir." - -"Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to -acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don't heed me any more than -if I was a speaking machine--truly, I am not much else. I will, with -your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers." - -"Story!" - -He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he added, -in a hurry, "Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually call -our connection our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientific -gentleman; a man of great acquirements--a Doctor." - -"Not of Beauvais?" - -"Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the -gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the -gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there. -Our relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that -time in our French House, and had been--oh! twenty years." - -"At that time--I may ask, at what time, sir?" - -"I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married--an English lady--and -I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many other -French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson's hands. -In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other for -scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss; -there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like -sentiment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my -business life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in -the course of my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere -machine. To go on--" - -"But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think"--the -curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him--"that when I was -left an orphan through my mother's surviving my father only two years, -it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you." - -Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced -to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then -conducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding -the chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns to rub -his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking -down into her face while she sat looking up into his. - -"Miss Manette, it _was_ I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself -just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold -with my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect -that I have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of -Tellson's House since, and I have been busy with the other business of -Tellson's House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance -of them. I pass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary -Mangle." - -After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr. Lorry -flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which was most -unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining surface was -before), and resumed his former attitude. - -"So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your -regretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died -when he did--Don't be frightened! How you start!" - -She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands. - -"Pray," said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from -the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped -him in so violent a tremble: "pray control your agitation--a matter of -business. As I was saying--" - -Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew: - -"As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had suddenly -and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not -been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could -trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a -privilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid -to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the -privilege of filling up blank forms for the consignment of any one -to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had -implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of -him, and all quite in vain;--then the history of your father would have -been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais." - -"I entreat you to tell me more, sir." - -"I will. I am going to. You can bear it?" - -"I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this -moment." - -"You speak collectedly, and you--_are_ collected. That's good!" (Though -his manner was less satisfied than his words.) "A matter of business. -Regard it as a matter of business--business that must be done. Now -if this doctor's wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit, -had suffered so intensely from this cause before her little child was -born--" - -"The little child was a daughter, sir." - -"A daughter. A-a-matter of business--don't be distressed. Miss, if the -poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born, -that she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the -inheritance of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by -rearing her in the belief that her father was dead--No, don't kneel! In -Heaven's name why should you kneel to me!" - -"For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!" - -"A--a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact -business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly -mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many -shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so -much more at my ease about your state of mind." - -Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had -very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp -his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she -communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry. - -"That's right, that's right. Courage! Business! You have business before -you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with -you. And when she died--I believe broken-hearted--having never slackened -her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, -to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud -upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his -heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years." - -As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the -flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have -been already tinged with grey. - -"You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what -they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new -discovery, of money, or of any other property; but--" - -He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the -forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was -now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror. - -"But he has been--been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too -probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. -Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant -in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to -restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort." - -A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a -low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream, - -"I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost--not him!" - -Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. "There, there, -there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. -You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair -sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side." - -She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, "I have been free, I -have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!" - -"Only one thing more," said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a -wholesome means of enforcing her attention: "he has been found under -another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be -worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to -know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly -held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, -because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, -anywhere or in any way, and to remove him--for a while at all -events--out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even -Tellson's, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of -the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring -to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, -and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, 'Recalled to Life;' -which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn't notice a -word! Miss Manette!" - -Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she -sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed -upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or -branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he -feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called -out loudly for assistance without moving. - -A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to -be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some -extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most -wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too, -or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the -inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the -poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him -flying back against the nearest wall. - -("I really think this must be a man!" was Mr. Lorry's breathless -reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.) - -"Why, look at you all!" bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants. -"Why don't you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring -at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don't you go and fetch -things? I'll let you know, if you don't bring smelling-salts, cold -water, and vinegar, quick, I will." - -There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she -softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and -gentleness: calling her "my precious!" and "my bird!" and spreading her -golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care. - -"And you in brown!" she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry; -"couldn't you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her -to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do -you call _that_ being a Banker?" - -Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to -answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler -sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn -servants under the mysterious penalty of "letting them know" something -not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a -regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head -upon her shoulder. - -"I hope she will do well now," said Mr. Lorry. - -"No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!" - -"I hope," said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and -humility, "that you accompany Miss Manette to France?" - -"A likely thing, too!" replied the strong woman. "If it was ever -intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence -would have cast my lot in an island?" - -This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to -consider it. - - - - -V. The Wine-shop - - -A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street. The -accident had happened in getting it out of a cart; the cask had tumbled -out with a run, the hoops had burst, and it lay on the stones just -outside the door of the wine-shop, shattered like a walnut-shell. - -All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their -idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough, irregular -stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have -thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them, -had dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own -jostling group or crowd, according to its size. Some men kneeled down, -made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped, or tried to help -women, who bent over their shoulders, to sip, before the wine had all -run out between their fingers. Others, men and women, dipped in -the puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with -handkerchiefs from women's heads, which were squeezed dry into infants' -mouths; others made small mud-embankments, to stem the wine as it ran; -others, directed by lookers-on up at high windows, darted here and -there, to cut off little streams of wine that started away in new -directions; others devoted themselves to the sodden and lee-dyed -pieces of the cask, licking, and even champing the moister wine-rotted -fragments with eager relish. There was no drainage to carry off the -wine, and not only did it all get taken up, but so much mud got taken up -along with it, that there might have been a scavenger in the street, -if anybody acquainted with it could have believed in such a miraculous -presence. - -A shrill sound of laughter and of amused voices--voices of men, women, -and children--resounded in the street while this wine game lasted. There -was little roughness in the sport, and much playfulness. There was a -special companionship in it, an observable inclination on the part -of every one to join some other one, which led, especially among the -luckier or lighter-hearted, to frolicsome embraces, drinking of healths, -shaking of hands, and even joining of hands and dancing, a dozen -together. When the wine was gone, and the places where it had been -most abundant were raked into a gridiron-pattern by fingers, these -demonstrations ceased, as suddenly as they had broken out. The man who -had left his saw sticking in the firewood he was cutting, set it in -motion again; the women who had left on a door-step the little pot of -hot ashes, at which she had been trying to soften the pain in her own -starved fingers and toes, or in those of her child, returned to it; men -with bare arms, matted locks, and cadaverous faces, who had emerged into -the winter light from cellars, moved away, to descend again; and a gloom -gathered on the scene that appeared more natural to it than sunshine. - -The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow street -in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had -stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many -wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks -on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was -stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again. -Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a -tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his -head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled -upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees--BLOOD. - -The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the -street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there. - -And now that the cloud settled on Saint Antoine, which a momentary -gleam had driven from his sacred countenance, the darkness of it was -heavy--cold, dirt, sickness, ignorance, and want, were the lords in -waiting on the saintly presence--nobles of great power all of them; -but, most especially the last. Samples of a people that had undergone a -terrible grinding and regrinding in the mill, and certainly not in the -fabulous mill which ground old people young, shivered at every corner, -passed in and out at every doorway, looked from every window, fluttered -in every vestige of a garment that the wind shook. The mill which -had worked them down, was the mill that grinds young people old; the -children had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon the -grown faces, and ploughed into every furrow of age and coming up afresh, -was the sigh, Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed out -of the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and -lines; Hunger was patched into them with straw and rag and wood and -paper; Hunger was repeated in every fragment of the small modicum of -firewood that the man sawed off; Hunger stared down from the smokeless -chimneys, and started up from the filthy street that had no offal, -among its refuse, of anything to eat. Hunger was the inscription on the -baker's shelves, written in every small loaf of his scanty stock of -bad bread; at the sausage-shop, in every dead-dog preparation that -was offered for sale. Hunger rattled its dry bones among the roasting -chestnuts in the turned cylinder; Hunger was shred into atomics in every -farthing porringer of husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant -drops of oil. - -Its abiding place was in all things fitted to it. A narrow winding -street, full of offence and stench, with other narrow winding streets -diverging, all peopled by rags and nightcaps, and all smelling of rags -and nightcaps, and all visible things with a brooding look upon them -that looked ill. In the hunted air of the people there was yet some -wild-beast thought of the possibility of turning at bay. Depressed and -slinking though they were, eyes of fire were not wanting among them; nor -compressed lips, white with what they suppressed; nor foreheads knitted -into the likeness of the gallows-rope they mused about enduring, or -inflicting. The trade signs (and they were almost as many as the shops) -were, all, grim illustrations of Want. The butcher and the porkman -painted up, only the leanest scrags of meat; the baker, the coarsest of -meagre loaves. The people rudely pictured as drinking in the wine-shops, -croaked over their scanty measures of thin wine and beer, and were -gloweringly confidential together. Nothing was represented in a -flourishing condition, save tools and weapons; but, the cutler's knives -and axes were sharp and bright, the smith's hammers were heavy, and the -gunmaker's stock was murderous. The crippling stones of the pavement, -with their many little reservoirs of mud and water, had no footways, but -broke off abruptly at the doors. The kennel, to make amends, ran down -the middle of the street--when it ran at all: which was only after heavy -rains, and then it ran, by many eccentric fits, into the houses. Across -the streets, at wide intervals, one clumsy lamp was slung by a rope and -pulley; at night, when the lamplighter had let these down, and lighted, -and hoisted them again, a feeble grove of dim wicks swung in a sickly -manner overhead, as if they were at sea. Indeed they were at sea, and -the ship and crew were in peril of tempest. - -For, the time was to come, when the gaunt scarecrows of that region -should have watched the lamplighter, in their idleness and hunger, so -long, as to conceive the idea of improving on his method, and hauling -up men by those ropes and pulleys, to flare upon the darkness of their -condition. But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew over -France shook the rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of -song and feather, took no warning. - -The wine-shop was a corner shop, better than most others in its -appearance and degree, and the master of the wine-shop had stood outside -it, in a yellow waistcoat and green breeches, looking on at the struggle -for the lost wine. "It's not my affair," said he, with a final shrug -of the shoulders. "The people from the market did it. Let them bring -another." - -There, his eyes happening to catch the tall joker writing up his joke, -he called to him across the way: - -"Say, then, my Gaspard, what do you do there?" - -The fellow pointed to his joke with immense significance, as is often -the way with his tribe. It missed its mark, and completely failed, as is -often the way with his tribe too. - -"What now? Are you a subject for the mad hospital?" said the wine-shop -keeper, crossing the road, and obliterating the jest with a handful of -mud, picked up for the purpose, and smeared over it. "Why do you write -in the public streets? Is there--tell me thou--is there no other place -to write such words in?" - -In his expostulation he dropped his cleaner hand (perhaps accidentally, -perhaps not) upon the joker's heart. The joker rapped it with his -own, took a nimble spring upward, and came down in a fantastic dancing -attitude, with one of his stained shoes jerked off his foot into his -hand, and held out. A joker of an extremely, not to say wolfishly -practical character, he looked, under those circumstances. - -"Put it on, put it on," said the other. "Call wine, wine; and finish -there." With that advice, he wiped his soiled hand upon the joker's -dress, such as it was--quite deliberately, as having dirtied the hand on -his account; and then recrossed the road and entered the wine-shop. - -This wine-shop keeper was a bull-necked, martial-looking man of thirty, -and he should have been of a hot temperament, for, although it was a -bitter day, he wore no coat, but carried one slung over his shoulder. -His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, too, and his brown arms were bare to -the elbows. Neither did he wear anything more on his head than his own -crisply-curling short dark hair. He was a dark man altogether, with good -eyes and a good bold breadth between them. Good-humoured looking on -the whole, but implacable-looking, too; evidently a man of a strong -resolution and a set purpose; a man not desirable to be met, rushing -down a narrow pass with a gulf on either side, for nothing would turn -the man. - -Madame Defarge, his wife, sat in the shop behind the counter as he -came in. Madame Defarge was a stout woman of about his own age, with -a watchful eye that seldom seemed to look at anything, a large hand -heavily ringed, a steady face, strong features, and great composure of -manner. There was a character about Madame Defarge, from which one might -have predicated that she did not often make mistakes against herself -in any of the reckonings over which she presided. Madame Defarge being -sensitive to cold, was wrapped in fur, and had a quantity of bright -shawl twined about her head, though not to the concealment of her large -earrings. Her knitting was before her, but she had laid it down to pick -her teeth with a toothpick. Thus engaged, with her right elbow supported -by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came in, but -coughed just one grain of cough. This, in combination with the lifting -of her darkly defined eyebrows over her toothpick by the breadth of a -line, suggested to her husband that he would do well to look round the -shop among the customers, for any new customer who had dropped in while -he stepped over the way. - -The wine-shop keeper accordingly rolled his eyes about, until they -rested upon an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who were seated in -a corner. Other company were there: two playing cards, two playing -dominoes, three standing by the counter lengthening out a short supply -of wine. As he passed behind the counter, he took notice that the -elderly gentleman said in a look to the young lady, "This is our man." - -"What the devil do _you_ do in that galley there?" said Monsieur Defarge -to himself; "I don't know you." - -But, he feigned not to notice the two strangers, and fell into discourse -with the triumvirate of customers who were drinking at the counter. - -"How goes it, Jacques?" said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge. "Is -all the spilt wine swallowed?" - -"Every drop, Jacques," answered Monsieur Defarge. - -When this interchange of Christian name was effected, Madame Defarge, -picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another grain of cough, -and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line. - -"It is not often," said the second of the three, addressing Monsieur -Defarge, "that many of these miserable beasts know the taste of wine, or -of anything but black bread and death. Is it not so, Jacques?" - -"It is so, Jacques," Monsieur Defarge returned. - -At this second interchange of the Christian name, Madame Defarge, still -using her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of -cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line. - -The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty -drinking vessel and smacked his lips. - -"Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle -always have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am I -right, Jacques?" - -"You are right, Jacques," was the response of Monsieur Defarge. - -This third interchange of the Christian name was completed at the moment -when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her eyebrows up, and -slightly rustled in her seat. - -"Hold then! True!" muttered her husband. "Gentlemen--my wife!" - -The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge, with three -flourishes. She acknowledged their homage by bending her head, and -giving them a quick look. Then she glanced in a casual manner round the -wine-shop, took up her knitting with great apparent calmness and repose -of spirit, and became absorbed in it. - -"Gentlemen," said her husband, who had kept his bright eye observantly -upon her, "good day. The chamber, furnished bachelor-fashion, that you -wished to see, and were inquiring for when I stepped out, is on the -fifth floor. The doorway of the staircase gives on the little courtyard -close to the left here," pointing with his hand, "near to the window of -my establishment. But, now that I remember, one of you has already been -there, and can show the way. Gentlemen, adieu!" - -They paid for their wine, and left the place. The eyes of Monsieur -Defarge were studying his wife at her knitting when the elderly -gentleman advanced from his corner, and begged the favour of a word. - -"Willingly, sir," said Monsieur Defarge, and quietly stepped with him to -the door. - -Their conference was very short, but very decided. Almost at the first -word, Monsieur Defarge started and became deeply attentive. It had -not lasted a minute, when he nodded and went out. The gentleman then -beckoned to the young lady, and they, too, went out. Madame Defarge -knitted with nimble fingers and steady eyebrows, and saw nothing. - -Mr. Jarvis Lorry and Miss Manette, emerging from the wine-shop thus, -joined Monsieur Defarge in the doorway to which he had directed his own -company just before. It opened from a stinking little black courtyard, -and was the general public entrance to a great pile of houses, inhabited -by a great number of people. In the gloomy tile-paved entry to the -gloomy tile-paved staircase, Monsieur Defarge bent down on one knee -to the child of his old master, and put her hand to his lips. It was -a gentle action, but not at all gently done; a very remarkable -transformation had come over him in a few seconds. He had no good-humour -in his face, nor any openness of aspect left, but had become a secret, -angry, dangerous man. - -"It is very high; it is a little difficult. Better to begin slowly." -Thus, Monsieur Defarge, in a stern voice, to Mr. Lorry, as they began -ascending the stairs. - -"Is he alone?" the latter whispered. - -"Alone! God help him, who should be with him!" said the other, in the -same low voice. - -"Is he always alone, then?" - -"Yes." - -"Of his own desire?" - -"Of his own necessity. As he was, when I first saw him after they -found me and demanded to know if I would take him, and, at my peril be -discreet--as he was then, so he is now." - -"He is greatly changed?" - -"Changed!" - -The keeper of the wine-shop stopped to strike the wall with his hand, -and mutter a tremendous curse. No direct answer could have been half so -forcible. Mr. Lorry's spirits grew heavier and heavier, as he and his -two companions ascended higher and higher. - -Such a staircase, with its accessories, in the older and more crowded -parts of Paris, would be bad enough now; but, at that time, it was vile -indeed to unaccustomed and unhardened senses. Every little habitation -within the great foul nest of one high building--that is to say, -the room or rooms within every door that opened on the general -staircase--left its own heap of refuse on its own landing, besides -flinging other refuse from its own windows. The uncontrollable and -hopeless mass of decomposition so engendered, would have polluted -the air, even if poverty and deprivation had not loaded it with their -intangible impurities; the two bad sources combined made it almost -insupportable. Through such an atmosphere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt -and poison, the way lay. Yielding to his own disturbance of mind, and to -his young companion's agitation, which became greater every instant, Mr. -Jarvis Lorry twice stopped to rest. Each of these stoppages was made -at a doleful grating, by which any languishing good airs that were left -uncorrupted, seemed to escape, and all spoilt and sickly vapours seemed -to crawl in. Through the rusted bars, tastes, rather than glimpses, were -caught of the jumbled neighbourhood; and nothing within range, nearer -or lower than the summits of the two great towers of Notre-Dame, had any -promise on it of healthy life or wholesome aspirations. - -At last, the top of the staircase was gained, and they stopped for the -third time. There was yet an upper staircase, of a steeper inclination -and of contracted dimensions, to be ascended, before the garret story -was reached. The keeper of the wine-shop, always going a little in -advance, and always going on the side which Mr. Lorry took, as though he -dreaded to be asked any question by the young lady, turned himself about -here, and, carefully feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried over -his shoulder, took out a key. - -"The door is locked then, my friend?" said Mr. Lorry, surprised. - -"Ay. Yes," was the grim reply of Monsieur Defarge. - -"You think it necessary to keep the unfortunate gentleman so retired?" - -"I think it necessary to turn the key." Monsieur Defarge whispered it -closer in his ear, and frowned heavily. - -"Why?" - -"Why! Because he has lived so long, locked up, that he would be -frightened--rave--tear himself to pieces--die--come to I know not what -harm--if his door was left open." - -"Is it possible!" exclaimed Mr. Lorry. - -"Is it possible!" repeated Defarge, bitterly. "Yes. And a beautiful -world we live in, when it _is_ possible, and when many other such things -are possible, and not only possible, but done--done, see you!--under -that sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on." - -This dialogue had been held in so very low a whisper, that not a word -of it had reached the young lady's ears. But, by this time she trembled -under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety, -and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbent -on him to speak a word or two of reassurance. - -"Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst will be over in a -moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then, -all the good you bring to him, all the relief, all the happiness you -bring to him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side. -That's well, friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!" - -They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they were -soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at -once in sight of three men, whose heads were bent down close together at -the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to which -the door belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On hearing -footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose, and showed -themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking in the -wine-shop. - -"I forgot them in the surprise of your visit," explained Monsieur -Defarge. "Leave us, good boys; we have business here." - -The three glided by, and went silently down. - -There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of -the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone, Mr. -Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger: - -"Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?" - -"I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few." - -"Is that well?" - -"_I_ think it is well." - -"Who are the few? How do you choose them?" - -"I choose them as real men, of my name--Jacques is my name--to whom the -sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is another -thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment." - -With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in -through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he struck -twice or thrice upon the door--evidently with no other object than to -make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it, -three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned -it as heavily as he could. - -The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into the -room and said something. A faint voice answered something. Little more -than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side. - -He looked back over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr. Lorry -got his arm securely round the daughter's waist, and held her; for he -felt that she was sinking. - -"A-a-a-business, business!" he urged, with a moisture that was not of -business shining on his cheek. "Come in, come in!" - -"I am afraid of it," she answered, shuddering. - -"Of it? What?" - -"I mean of him. Of my father." - -Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of -their conductor, he drew over his neck the arm that shook upon his -shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her -down just within the door, and held her, clinging to him. - -Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside, -took out the key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did, -methodically, and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise as he -could make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to -where the window was. He stopped there, and faced round. - -The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim -and dark: for, the window of dormer shape, was in truth a door in the -roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from -the street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any -other door of French construction. To exclude the cold, one half of this -door was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way. -Such a scanty portion of light was admitted through these means, that it -was difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit -alone could have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work -requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being -done in the garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face -towards the window where the keeper of the wine-shop stood looking at -him, a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very -busy, making shoes. - - - - -VI. The Shoemaker - - -"Good day!" said Monsieur Defarge, looking down at the white head that -bent low over the shoemaking. - -It was raised for a moment, and a very faint voice responded to the -salutation, as if it were at a distance: - -"Good day!" - -"You are still hard at work, I see?" - -After a long silence, the head was lifted for another moment, and the -voice replied, "Yes--I am working." This time, a pair of haggard eyes -had looked at the questioner, before the face had dropped again. - -The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the -faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no -doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was -the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo -of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and -resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once -beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and -suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive -it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, -wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered -home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die. - -Some minutes of silent work had passed: and the haggard eyes had looked -up again: not with any interest or curiosity, but with a dull mechanical -perception, beforehand, that the spot where the only visitor they were -aware of had stood, was not yet empty. - -"I want," said Defarge, who had not removed his gaze from the shoemaker, -"to let in a little more light here. You can bear a little more?" - -The shoemaker stopped his work; looked with a vacant air of listening, -at the floor on one side of him; then similarly, at the floor on the -other side of him; then, upward at the speaker. - -"What did you say?" - -"You can bear a little more light?" - -"I must bear it, if you let it in." (Laying the palest shadow of a -stress upon the second word.) - -The opened half-door was opened a little further, and secured at that -angle for the time. A broad ray of light fell into the garret, and -showed the workman with an unfinished shoe upon his lap, pausing in his -labour. His few common tools and various scraps of leather were at his -feet and on his bench. He had a white beard, raggedly cut, but not very -long, a hollow face, and exceedingly bright eyes. The hollowness and -thinness of his face would have caused them to look large, under his yet -dark eyebrows and his confused white hair, though they had been really -otherwise; but, they were naturally large, and looked unnaturally so. -His yellow rags of shirt lay open at the throat, and showed his body -to be withered and worn. He, and his old canvas frock, and his loose -stockings, and all his poor tatters of clothes, had, in a long seclusion -from direct light and air, faded down to such a dull uniformity of -parchment-yellow, that it would have been hard to say which was which. - -He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very bones -of it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze, -pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, without -first looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had -lost the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, without -first wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak. - -"Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?" asked Defarge, -motioning to Mr. Lorry to come forward. - -"What did you say?" - -"Do you mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?" - -"I can't say that I mean to. I suppose so. I don't know." - -But, the question reminded him of his work, and he bent over it again. - -Mr. Lorry came silently forward, leaving the daughter by the door. When -he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoemaker -looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing another figure, but the -unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked at -it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead-colour), and then -the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The -look and the action had occupied but an instant. - -"You have a visitor, you see," said Monsieur Defarge. - -"What did you say?" - -"Here is a visitor." - -The shoemaker looked up as before, but without removing a hand from his -work. - -"Come!" said Defarge. "Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made shoe when -he sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it, monsieur." - -Mr. Lorry took it in his hand. - -"Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker's name." - -There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied: - -"I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?" - -"I said, couldn't you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur's -information?" - -"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 vagrancy 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 shoemaker by trade. I-I -learnt 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 forehead, 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 hope--so 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 hopeless, 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 he 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, -but 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 off 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 concentrated 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 -out--she had a fear of my going, though I had none--and 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 was--and He -was--before the slow years of the North Tower--ages 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 voice--I don't know that it is so, but I hope it -is--if 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 -storms--emblem to humanity, of the rest and silence into which the storm -called Life must hush at last--they 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," said Mr. Lorry, resuming on the shortest notice his -methodical manners; "and if business is to be done, I had better do it." - -"Then be so kind," urged Miss Manette, "as to leave us here. You see how -composed he has become, and you cannot be afraid to leave him with me -now. Why should you be? If you will lock the door to secure us from -interruption, I do not doubt that you will find him, when you come back, -as quiet as you leave him. In any case, I will take care of him until -you return, and then we will remove him straight." - -Both Mr. Lorry and Defarge were rather disinclined to this course, and -in favour of one of them remaining. But, as there were not only carriage -and horses to be seen to, but travelling papers; and as time pressed, -for the day was drawing to an end, it came at last to their hastily -dividing the business that was necessary to be done, and hurrying away -to do it. - -Then, as the darkness closed in, the daughter laid her head down on the -hard ground close at the father's side, and watched him. The darkness -deepened and deepened, and they both lay quiet, until a light gleamed -through the chinks in the wall. - -Mr. Lorry and Monsieur Defarge had made all ready for the journey, and -had brought with them, besides travelling cloaks and wrappers, bread and -meat, wine, and hot coffee. Monsieur Defarge put this provender, and the -lamp he carried, on the shoemaker's bench (there was nothing else in the -garret but a pallet bed), and he and Mr. Lorry roused the captive, and -assisted him to his feet. - -No human intelligence could have read the mysteries of his mind, in -the scared blank wonder of his face. Whether he knew what had happened, -whether he recollected what they had said to him, whether he knew that -he was free, were questions which no sagacity could have solved. They -tried speaking to him; but, he was so confused, and so very slow to -answer, that they took fright at his bewilderment, and agreed for -the time to tamper with him no more. He had a wild, lost manner of -occasionally clasping his head in his hands, that had not been seen -in him before; yet, he had some pleasure in the mere sound of his -daughter's voice, and invariably turned to it when she spoke. - -In the submissive way of one long accustomed to obey under coercion, he -ate and drank what they gave him to eat and drink, and put on the cloak -and other wrappings, that they gave him to wear. He readily responded to -his daughter's drawing her arm through his, and took--and kept--her hand -in both his own. - -They began to descend; Monsieur Defarge going first with the lamp, Mr. -Lorry closing the little procession. They had not traversed many steps -of the long main staircase when he stopped, and stared at the roof and -round at the walls. - -"You remember the place, my father? You remember coming up here?" - -"What did you say?" - -But, before she could repeat the question, he murmured an answer as if -she had repeated it. - -"Remember? No, I don't remember. It was so very long ago." - -That he had no recollection whatever of his having been brought from his -prison to that house, was apparent to them. They heard him mutter, -"One Hundred and Five, North Tower;" and when he looked about him, it -evidently was for the strong fortress-walls which had long encompassed -him. On their reaching the courtyard he instinctively altered his -tread, as being in expectation of a drawbridge; and when there was -no drawbridge, and he saw the carriage waiting in the open street, he -dropped his daughter's hand and clasped his head again. - -No crowd was about the door; no people were discernible at any of the -many windows; not even a chance passerby was in the street. An unnatural -silence and desertion reigned there. Only one soul was to be seen, and -that was Madame Defarge--who leaned against the door-post, knitting, and -saw nothing. - -The prisoner had got into a coach, and his daughter had followed -him, when Mr. Lorry's feet were arrested on the step by his asking, -miserably, for his shoemaking tools and the unfinished shoes. Madame -Defarge immediately called to her husband that she would get them, and -went, knitting, out of the lamplight, through the courtyard. She quickly -brought them down and handed them in;--and immediately afterwards leaned -against the door-post, knitting, and saw nothing. - -Defarge got upon the box, and gave the word "To the Barrier!" The -postilion cracked his whip, and they clattered away under the feeble -over-swinging lamps. - -Under the over-swinging lamps--swinging ever brighter in the better -streets, and ever dimmer in the worse--and by lighted shops, gay crowds, -illuminated coffee-houses, and theatre-doors, to one of the city -gates. Soldiers with lanterns, at the guard-house there. "Your papers, -travellers!" "See here then, Monsieur the Officer," said Defarge, -getting down, and taking him gravely apart, "these are the papers of -monsieur inside, with the white head. They were consigned to me, with -him, at the--" He dropped his voice, there was a flutter among the -military lanterns, and one of them being handed into the coach by an arm -in uniform, the eyes connected with the arm looked, not an every day -or an every night look, at monsieur with the white head. "It is well. -Forward!" from the uniform. "Adieu!" from Defarge. And so, under a short -grove of feebler and feebler over-swinging lamps, out under the great -grove of stars. - -Beneath that arch of unmoved and eternal lights; some, so remote from -this little earth that the learned tell us it is doubtful whether their -rays have even yet discovered it, as a point in space where anything -is suffered or done: the shadows of the night were broad and black. -All through the cold and restless interval, until dawn, they once more -whispered in the ears of Mr. Jarvis Lorry--sitting opposite the buried -man who had been dug out, and wondering what subtle powers were for ever -lost to him, and what were capable of restoration--the old inquiry: - -"I hope you care to be recalled to life?" - -And the old answer: - -"I can't say." - - -The end of the first book. - - - - - -Book the Second--the Golden Thread - - - - -I. Five Years Later - - -Tellson's Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, even in the -year one thousand seven hundred and eighty. It was very small, very -dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It was an old-fashioned place, -moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were -proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, -proud of its incommodiousness. They were even boastful of its eminence -in those particulars, and were fired by an express conviction that, if -it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was -no passive belief, but an active weapon which they flashed at more -convenient places of business. Tellson's (they said) wanted -no elbow-room, Tellson's wanted no light, Tellson's wanted no -embellishment. Noakes and Co.'s might, or Snooks Brothers' might; but -Tellson's, thank Heaven--! - -Any one of these partners would have disinherited his son on the -question of rebuilding Tellson's. In this respect the House was much -on a par with the Country; which did very often disinherit its sons for -suggesting improvements in laws and customs that had long been highly -objectionable, but were only the more respectable. - -Thus it had come to pass, that Tellson's was the triumphant perfection -of inconvenience. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with -a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson's down two steps, -and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little -counters, where the oldest of men made your cheque shake as if the -wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of -windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, -and which were made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the -heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing -"the House," you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, -where you meditated on a misspent life, until the House came with its -hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal -twilight. Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden -drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when -they were opened and shut. Your bank-notes had a musty odour, as if they -were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among -the neighbouring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good -polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporised strong-rooms -made of kitchens and sculleries, and fretted all the fat out of their -parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family -papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great -dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year -one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you -by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released -from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads -exposed on Temple Bar with an insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of -Abyssinia or Ashantee. - -But indeed, at that time, putting to death was a recipe much in vogue -with all trades and professions, and not least of all with Tellson's. -Death is Nature's remedy for all things, and why not Legislation's? -Accordingly, the forger was put to Death; the utterer of a bad note -was put to Death; the unlawful opener of a letter was put to Death; the -purloiner of forty shillings and sixpence was put to Death; the holder -of a horse at Tellson's door, who made off with it, was put to -Death; the coiner of a bad shilling was put to Death; the sounders of -three-fourths of the notes in the whole gamut of Crime, were put to -Death. Not that it did the least good in the way of prevention--it -might almost have been worth remarking that the fact was exactly the -reverse--but, it cleared off (as to this world) the trouble of each -particular case, and left nothing else connected with it to be looked -after. Thus, Tellson's, in its day, like greater places of business, -its contemporaries, had taken so many lives, that, if the heads laid -low before it had been ranged on Temple Bar instead of being privately -disposed of, they would probably have excluded what little light the -ground floor had, in a rather significant manner. - -Cramped in all kinds of dim cupboards and hutches at Tellson's, the -oldest of men carried on the business gravely. When they took a young -man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was -old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full -Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to -be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his breeches -and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment. - -Outside Tellson's--never by any means in it, unless called in--was an -odd-job-man, an occasional porter and messenger, who served as the live -sign of the house. He was never absent during business hours, unless -upon an errand, and then he was represented by his son: a grisly urchin -of twelve, who was his express image. People understood that Tellson's, -in a stately way, tolerated the odd-job-man. The house had always -tolerated some person in that capacity, and time and tide had drifted -this person to the post. His surname was Cruncher, and on the youthful -occasion of his renouncing by proxy the works of darkness, in the -easterly parish church of Hounsditch, he had received the added -appellation of Jerry. - -The scene was Mr. Cruncher's private lodging in Hanging-sword-alley, -Whitefriars: the time, half-past seven of the clock on a windy March -morning, Anno Domini seventeen hundred and eighty. (Mr. Cruncher himself -always spoke of the year of our Lord as Anna Dominoes: apparently under -the impression that the Christian era dated from the invention of a -popular game, by a lady who had bestowed her name upon it.) - -Mr. Cruncher's apartments were not in a savoury neighbourhood, and were -but two in number, even if a closet with a single pane of glass in it -might be counted as one. But they were very decently kept. Early as -it was, on the windy March morning, the room in which he lay abed was -already scrubbed throughout; and between the cups and saucers arranged -for breakfast, and the lumbering deal table, a very clean white cloth -was spread. - -Mr. Cruncher reposed under a patchwork counterpane, like a Harlequin -at home. At first, he slept heavily, but, by degrees, began to roll -and surge in bed, until he rose above the surface, with his spiky hair -looking as if it must tear the sheets to ribbons. At which juncture, he -exclaimed, in a voice of dire exasperation: - -"Bust me, if she ain't at it agin!" - -A woman of orderly and industrious appearance rose from her knees in a -corner, with sufficient haste and trepidation to show that she was the -person referred to. - -"What!" said Mr. Cruncher, looking out of bed for a boot. "You're at it -agin, are you?" - -After hailing the morn with this second salutation, he threw a boot at -the woman as a third. It was a very muddy boot, and may introduce the -odd circumstance connected with Mr. Cruncher's domestic economy, that, -whereas he often came home after banking hours with clean boots, he -often got up next morning to find the same boots covered with clay. - -"What," said Mr. Cruncher, varying his apostrophe after missing his -mark--"what are you up to, Aggerawayter?" - -"I was only saying my prayers." - -"Saying your prayers! You're a nice woman! What do you mean by flopping -yourself down and praying agin me?" - -"I was not praying against you; I was praying for you." - -"You weren't. And if you were, I won't be took the liberty with. Here! -your mother's a nice woman, young Jerry, going a praying agin your -father's prosperity. You've got a dutiful mother, you have, my son. -You've got a religious mother, you have, my boy: going and flopping -herself down, and praying that the bread-and-butter may be snatched out -of the mouth of her only child." - -Master Cruncher (who was in his shirt) took this very ill, and, turning -to his mother, strongly deprecated any praying away of his personal -board. - -"And what do you suppose, you conceited female," said Mr. Cruncher, with -unconscious inconsistency, "that the worth of _your_ prayers may be? -Name the price that you put _your_ prayers at!" - -"They only come from the heart, Jerry. They are worth no more than -that." - -"Worth no more than that," repeated Mr. Cruncher. "They ain't worth -much, then. Whether or no, I won't be prayed agin, I tell you. I can't -afford it. I'm not a going to be made unlucky by _your_ sneaking. If -you must go flopping yourself down, flop in favour of your husband and -child, and not in opposition to 'em. If I had had any but a unnat'ral -wife, and this poor boy had had any but a unnat'ral mother, I might -have made some money last week instead of being counter-prayed and -countermined and religiously circumwented into the worst of luck. -B-u-u-ust me!" said Mr. Cruncher, who all this time had been putting -on his clothes, "if I ain't, what with piety and one blowed thing and -another, been choused this last week into as bad luck as ever a poor -devil of a honest tradesman met with! Young Jerry, dress yourself, my -boy, and while I clean my boots keep a eye upon your mother now and -then, and if you see any signs of more flopping, give me a call. For, I -tell you," here he addressed his wife once more, "I won't be gone agin, -in this manner. I am as rickety as a hackney-coach, I'm as sleepy as -laudanum, my lines is strained to that degree that I shouldn't know, if -it wasn't for the pain in 'em, which was me and which somebody else, yet -I'm none the better for it in pocket; and it's my suspicion that you've -been at it from morning to night to prevent me from being the better for -it in pocket, and I won't put up with it, Aggerawayter, and what do you -say now!" - -Growling, in addition, such phrases as "Ah! yes! You're religious, too. -You wouldn't put yourself in opposition to the interests of your husband -and child, would you? Not you!" and throwing off other sarcastic sparks -from the whirling grindstone of his indignation, Mr. Cruncher betook -himself to his boot-cleaning and his general preparation for business. -In the meantime, his son, whose head was garnished with tenderer spikes, -and whose young eyes stood close by one another, as his father's did, -kept the required watch upon his mother. He greatly disturbed that poor -woman at intervals, by darting out of his sleeping closet, where he made -his toilet, with a suppressed cry of "You are going to flop, mother. ---Halloa, father!" and, after raising this fictitious alarm, darting in -again with an undutiful grin. - -Mr. Cruncher's temper was not at all improved when he came to his -breakfast. He resented Mrs. Cruncher's saying grace with particular -animosity. - -"Now, Aggerawayter! What are you up to? At it again?" - -His wife explained that she had merely "asked a blessing." - -"Don't do it!" said Mr. Crunches looking about, as if he rather expected -to see the loaf disappear under the efficacy of his wife's petitions. "I -ain't a going to be blest out of house and home. I won't have my wittles -blest off my table. Keep still!" - -Exceedingly red-eyed and grim, as if he had been up all night at a party -which had taken anything but a convivial turn, Jerry Cruncher worried -his breakfast rather than ate it, growling over it like any four-footed -inmate of a menagerie. Towards nine o'clock he smoothed his ruffled -aspect, and, presenting as respectable and business-like an exterior as -he could overlay his natural self with, issued forth to the occupation -of the day. - -It could scarcely be called a trade, in spite of his favourite -description of himself as "a honest tradesman." His stock consisted of -a wooden stool, made out of a broken-backed chair cut down, which stool, -young Jerry, walking at his father's side, carried every morning to -beneath the banking-house window that was nearest Temple Bar: where, -with the addition of the first handful of straw that could be gleaned -from any passing vehicle to keep the cold and wet from the odd-job-man's -feet, it formed the encampment for the day. On this post of his, Mr. -Cruncher was as well known to Fleet-street and the Temple, as the Bar -itself,--and was almost as in-looking. - -Encamped at a quarter before nine, in good time to touch his -three-cornered hat to the oldest of men as they passed in to Tellson's, -Jerry took up his station on this windy March morning, with young Jerry -standing by him, when not engaged in making forays through the Bar, to -inflict bodily and mental injuries of an acute description on passing -boys who were small enough for his amiable purpose. Father and son, -extremely like each other, looking silently on at the morning traffic -in Fleet-street, with their two heads as near to one another as the two -eyes of each were, bore a considerable resemblance to a pair of monkeys. -The resemblance was not lessened by the accidental circumstance, that -the mature Jerry bit and spat out straw, while the twinkling eyes of the -youthful Jerry were as restlessly watchful of him as of everything else -in Fleet-street. - -The head of one of the regular indoor messengers attached to Tellson's -establishment was put through the door, and the word was given: - -"Porter wanted!" - -"Hooray, father! Here's an early job to begin with!" - -Having thus given his parent God speed, young Jerry seated himself on -the stool, entered on his reversionary interest in the straw his father -had been chewing, and cogitated. - -"Al-ways rusty! His fingers is al-ways rusty!" muttered young Jerry. -"Where does my father get all that iron rust from? He don't get no iron -rust here!" - - - - -II. A Sight - - -"You know the Old Bailey well, no doubt?" said one of the oldest of -clerks to Jerry the messenger. - -"Ye-es, sir," returned Jerry, in something of a dogged manner. "I _do_ -know the Bailey." - -"Just so. And you know Mr. Lorry." - -"I know Mr. Lorry, sir, much better than I know the Bailey. Much -better," said Jerry, not unlike a reluctant witness at the establishment -in question, "than I, as a honest tradesman, wish to know the Bailey." - -"Very well. Find the door where the witnesses go in, and show the -door-keeper this note for Mr. Lorry. He will then let you in." - -"Into the court, sir?" - -"Into the court." - -Mr. Cruncher's eyes seemed to get a little closer to one another, and to -interchange the inquiry, "What do you think of this?" - -"Am I to wait in the court, sir?" he asked, as the result of that -conference. - -"I am going to tell you. The door-keeper will pass the note to Mr. -Lorry, and do you make any gesture that will attract Mr. Lorry's -attention, and show him where you stand. Then what you have to do, is, -to remain there until he wants you." - -"Is that all, sir?" - -"That's all. He wishes to have a messenger at hand. This is to tell him -you are there." - -As the ancient clerk deliberately folded and superscribed the note, -Mr. Cruncher, after surveying him in silence until he came to the -blotting-paper stage, remarked: - -"I suppose they'll be trying Forgeries this morning?" - -"Treason!" - -"That's quartering," said Jerry. "Barbarous!" - -"It is the law," remarked the ancient clerk, turning his surprised -spectacles upon him. "It is the law." - -"It's hard in the law to spile a man, I think. It's hard enough to kill -him, but it's wery hard to spile him, sir." - -"Not at all," retained the ancient clerk. "Speak well of the law. Take -care of your chest and voice, my good friend, and leave the law to take -care of itself. I give you that advice." - -"It's the damp, sir, what settles on my chest and voice," said Jerry. "I -leave you to judge what a damp way of earning a living mine is." - -"Well, well," said the old clerk; "we all have our various ways of -gaining a livelihood. Some of us have damp ways, and some of us have dry -ways. Here is the letter. Go along." - -Jerry took the letter, and, remarking to himself with less internal -deference than he made an outward show of, "You are a lean old one, -too," made his bow, informed his son, in passing, of his destination, -and went his way. - -They hanged at Tyburn, in those days, so the street outside Newgate had -not obtained one infamous notoriety that has since attached to it. -But, the gaol was a vile place, in which most kinds of debauchery and -villainy were practised, and where dire diseases were bred, that came -into court with the prisoners, and sometimes rushed straight from the -dock at my Lord Chief Justice himself, and pulled him off the bench. It -had more than once happened, that the Judge in the black cap pronounced -his own doom as certainly as the prisoner's, and even died before him. -For the rest, the Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly inn-yard, -from which pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on -a violent passage into the other world: traversing some two miles and a -half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if any. -So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the beginning. It -was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old institution, that inflicted -a punishment of which no one could foresee the extent; also, for -the whipping-post, another dear old institution, very humanising and -softening to behold in action; also, for extensive transactions in -blood-money, another fragment of ancestral wisdom, systematically -leading to the most frightful mercenary crimes that could be committed -under Heaven. Altogether, the Old Bailey, at that date, was a choice -illustration of the precept, that "Whatever is is right;" an aphorism -that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome -consequence, that nothing that ever was, was wrong. - -Making his way through the tainted crowd, dispersed up and down this -hideous scene of action, with the skill of a man accustomed to make his -way quietly, the messenger found out the door he sought, and handed in -his letter through a trap in it. For, people then paid to see the play -at the Old Bailey, just as they paid to see the play in Bedlam--only the -former entertainment was much the dearer. Therefore, all the Old Bailey -doors were well guarded--except, indeed, the social doors by which the -criminals got there, and those were always left wide open. - -After some delay and demur, the door grudgingly turned on its hinges a -very little way, and allowed Mr. Jerry Cruncher to squeeze himself into -court. - -"What's on?" he asked, in a whisper, of the man he found himself next -to. - -"Nothing yet." - -"What's coming on?" - -"The Treason case." - -"The quartering one, eh?" - -"Ah!" returned the man, with a relish; "he'll be drawn on a hurdle to -be half hanged, and then he'll be taken down and sliced before his own -face, and then his inside will be taken out and burnt while he looks on, -and then his head will be chopped off, and he'll be cut into quarters. -That's the sentence." - -"If he's found Guilty, you mean to say?" Jerry added, by way of proviso. - -"Oh! they'll find him guilty," said the other. "Don't you be afraid of -that." - -Mr. Cruncher's attention was here diverted to the door-keeper, whom he -saw making his way to Mr. Lorry, with the note in his hand. Mr. Lorry -sat at a table, among the gentlemen in wigs: not far from a wigged -gentleman, the prisoner's counsel, who had a great bundle of papers -before him: and nearly opposite another wigged gentleman with his hands -in his pockets, whose whole attention, when Mr. Cruncher looked at him -then or afterwards, seemed to be concentrated on the ceiling of the -court. After some gruff coughing and rubbing of his chin and signing -with his hand, Jerry attracted the notice of Mr. Lorry, who had stood up -to look for him, and who quietly nodded and sat down again. - -"What's _he_ got to do with the case?" asked the man he had spoken with. - -"Blest if I know," said Jerry. - -"What have _you_ got to do with it, then, if a person may inquire?" - -"Blest if I know that either," said Jerry. - -The entrance of the Judge, and a consequent great stir and settling -down in the court, stopped the dialogue. Presently, the dock became the -central point of interest. Two gaolers, who had been standing there, -went out, and the prisoner was brought in, and put to the bar. - -Everybody present, except the one wigged gentleman who looked at the -ceiling, stared at him. All the human breath in the place, rolled -at him, like a sea, or a wind, or a fire. Eager faces strained round -pillars and corners, to get a sight of him; spectators in back rows -stood up, not to miss a hair of him; people on the floor of the court, -laid their hands on the shoulders of the people before them, to help -themselves, at anybody's cost, to a view of him--stood a-tiptoe, got -upon ledges, stood upon next to nothing, to see every inch of him. -Conspicuous among these latter, like an animated bit of the spiked wall -of Newgate, Jerry stood: aiming at the prisoner the beery breath of a -whet he had taken as he came along, and discharging it to mingle with -the waves of other beer, and gin, and tea, and coffee, and what not, -that flowed at him, and already broke upon the great windows behind him -in an impure mist and rain. - -The object of all this staring and blaring, was a young man of about -five-and-twenty, well-grown and well-looking, with a sunburnt cheek and -a dark eye. His condition was that of a young gentleman. He was plainly -dressed in black, or very dark grey, and his hair, which was long and -dark, was gathered in a ribbon at the back of his neck; more to be out -of his way than for ornament. As an emotion of the mind will express -itself through any covering of the body, so the paleness which his -situation engendered came through the brown upon his cheek, showing the -soul to be stronger than the sun. He was otherwise quite self-possessed, -bowed to the Judge, and stood quiet. - -The sort of interest with which this man was stared and breathed at, -was not a sort that elevated humanity. Had he stood in peril of a less -horrible sentence--had there been a chance of any one of its savage -details being spared--by just so much would he have lost in his -fascination. The form that was to be doomed to be so shamefully mangled, -was the sight; the immortal creature that was to be so butchered -and torn asunder, yielded the sensation. Whatever gloss the various -spectators put upon the interest, according to their several arts and -powers of self-deceit, the interest was, at the root of it, Ogreish. - -Silence in the court! Charles Darnay had yesterday pleaded Not Guilty to -an indictment denouncing him (with infinite jingle and jangle) for that -he was a false traitor to our serene, illustrious, excellent, and so -forth, prince, our Lord the King, by reason of his having, on divers -occasions, and by divers means and ways, assisted Lewis, the French -King, in his wars against our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and -so forth; that was to say, by coming and going, between the dominions of -our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, and those of the -said French Lewis, and wickedly, falsely, traitorously, and otherwise -evil-adverbiously, revealing to the said French Lewis what forces our -said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, had in preparation -to send to Canada and North America. This much, Jerry, with his head -becoming more and more spiky as the law terms bristled it, made out with -huge satisfaction, and so arrived circuitously at the understanding that -the aforesaid, and over and over again aforesaid, Charles Darnay, stood -there before him upon his trial; that the jury were swearing in; and -that Mr. Attorney-General was making ready to speak. - -The accused, who was (and who knew he was) being mentally hanged, -beheaded, and quartered, by everybody there, neither flinched from -the situation, nor assumed any theatrical air in it. He was quiet and -attentive; watched the opening proceedings with a grave interest; -and stood with his hands resting on the slab of wood before him, so -composedly, that they had not displaced a leaf of the herbs with which -it was strewn. The court was all bestrewn with herbs and sprinkled with -vinegar, as a precaution against gaol air and gaol fever. - -Over the prisoner's head there was a mirror, to throw the light down -upon him. Crowds of the wicked and the wretched had been reflected in -it, and had passed from its surface and this earth's together. Haunted -in a most ghastly manner that abominable place would have been, if the -glass could ever have rendered back its reflections, as the ocean is one -day to give up its dead. Some passing thought of the infamy and disgrace -for which it had been reserved, may have struck the prisoner's mind. Be -that as it may, a change in his position making him conscious of a bar -of light across his face, he looked up; and when he saw the glass his -face flushed, and his right hand pushed the herbs away. - -It happened, that the action turned his face to that side of the court -which was on his left. About on a level with his eyes, there sat, -in that corner of the Judge's bench, two persons upon whom his look -immediately rested; so immediately, and so much to the changing of his -aspect, that all the eyes that were turned upon him, turned to them. - -The spectators saw in the two figures, a young lady of little more than -twenty, and a gentleman who was evidently her father; a man of a very -remarkable appearance in respect of the absolute whiteness of his hair, -and a certain indescribable intensity of face: not of an active kind, -but pondering and self-communing. When this expression was upon him, he -looked as if he were old; but when it was stirred and broken up--as -it was now, in a moment, on his speaking to his daughter--he became a -handsome man, not past the prime of life. - -His daughter had one of her hands drawn through his arm, as she sat by -him, and the other pressed upon it. She had drawn close to him, in her -dread of the scene, and in her pity for the prisoner. Her forehead had -been strikingly expressive of an engrossing terror and compassion -that saw nothing but the peril of the accused. This had been so very -noticeable, so very powerfully and naturally shown, that starers who -had had no pity for him were touched by her; and the whisper went about, -"Who are they?" - -Jerry, the messenger, who had made his own observations, in his own -manner, and who had been sucking the rust off his fingers in his -absorption, stretched his neck to hear who they were. The crowd about -him had pressed and passed the inquiry on to the nearest attendant, and -from him it had been more slowly pressed and passed back; at last it got -to Jerry: - -"Witnesses." - -"For which side?" - -"Against." - -"Against what side?" - -"The prisoner's." - -The Judge, whose eyes had gone in the general direction, recalled them, -leaned back in his seat, and looked steadily at the man whose life was -in his hand, as Mr. Attorney-General rose to spin the rope, grind the -axe, and hammer the nails into the scaffold. - - - - -III. A Disappointment - - -Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before -them, though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which -claimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the -public enemy was not a correspondence of to-day, or of yesterday, or -even of last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain the -prisoner had, for longer than that, been in the habit of passing and -repassing between France and England, on secret business of which -he could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature of -traitorous ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the real -wickedness and guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered. -That Providence, however, had put it into the heart of a person who -was beyond fear and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature of the -prisoner's schemes, and, struck with horror, to disclose them to his -Majesty's Chief Secretary of State and most honourable Privy Council. -That, this patriot would be produced before them. That, his position and -attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner's -friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting his -infamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he could no longer cherish -in his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country. That, if statues -were decreed in Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome, to public -benefactors, this shining citizen would assuredly have had one. That, as -they were not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That, Virtue, -as had been observed by the poets (in many passages which he well -knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their tongues; -whereat the jury's countenances displayed a guilty consciousness that -they knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner contagious; more -especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of country. -That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable witness -for the Crown, to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour, had -communicated itself to the prisoner's servant, and had engendered in him -a holy determination to examine his master's table-drawers and pockets, -and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared to -hear some disparagement attempted of this admirable servant; but that, -in a general way, he preferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General's) -brothers and sisters, and honoured him more than his (Mr. -Attorney-General's) father and mother. That, he called with confidence -on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of these two -witnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering that would be -produced, would show the prisoner to have been furnished with lists of -his Majesty's forces, and of their disposition and preparation, both by -sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he had habitually conveyed -such information to a hostile power. That, these lists could not be -proved to be in the prisoner's handwriting; but that it was all the -same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, as -showing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proof -would go back five years, and would show the prisoner already engaged -in these pernicious missions, within a few weeks before the date of the -very first action fought between the British troops and the Americans. -That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they -were), and being a responsible jury (as _they_ knew they were), must -positively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether -they liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their -pillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying -their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notion -of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that -there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon -pillows at all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off. That head -Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of -everything he could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith -of his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner as -good as dead and gone. - -When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if -a cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in -anticipation of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, the -unimpeachable patriot appeared in the witness-box. - -Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader's lead, examined the -patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was -exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be--perhaps, if -it had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom -of its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the -wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. -Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting -opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court. - -Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation. -What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn't -precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody's. -Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relation. Very -distant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a debtors' -prison? Didn't see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtors' -prison?--Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or three -times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever -been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? -Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and fell -downstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at -dice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who -committed the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true? -Positively. Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Not -more than other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. -Ever pay him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality a -very slight one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? -No. Sure he saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more -about the lists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. -Expect to get anything by this evidence? No. Not in regular government -pay and employment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear -no. Swear that? Over and over again. No motives but motives of sheer -patriotism? None whatever. - -The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a -great rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and -simplicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais -packet, if he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him. -He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of -charity--never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of -the prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging -his clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists to these in the -prisoner's pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from -the drawer of the prisoner's desk. He had not put them there first. He -had seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemen -at Calais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais and -Boulogne. He loved his country, and couldn't bear it, and had given -information. He had never been suspected of stealing a silver tea-pot; -he had been maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be -only a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; -that was merely a coincidence. He didn't call it a particularly curious -coincidence; most coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a -curious coincidence that true patriotism was _his_ only motive too. He -was a true Briton, and hoped there were many like him. - -The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jarvis -Lorry. - -"Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson's bank?" - -"I am." - -"On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred and -seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London and -Dover by the mail?" - -"It did." - -"Were there any other passengers in the mail?" - -"Two." - -"Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?" - -"They did." - -"Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two passengers?" - -"I cannot undertake to say that he was." - -"Does he resemble either of these two passengers?" - -"Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were all so -reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that." - -"Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up as -those two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to -render it unlikely that he was one of them?" - -"No." - -"You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?" - -"No." - -"So at least you say he may have been one of them?" - -"Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been--like -myself--timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous -air." - -"Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?" - -"I certainly have seen that." - -"Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to your -certain knowledge, before?" - -"I have." - -"When?" - -"I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, the -prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made the -voyage with me." - -"At what hour did he come on board?" - -"At a little after midnight." - -"In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on board -at that untimely hour?" - -"He happened to be the only one." - -"Never mind about 'happening,' Mr. Lorry. He was the only passenger who -came on board in the dead of the night?" - -"He was." - -"Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?" - -"With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here." - -"They are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?" - -"Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and rough, and -I lay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore." - -"Miss Manette!" - -The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were now -turned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her, and -kept her hand drawn through his arm. - -"Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner." - -To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty, was -far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the crowd. -Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not all -the staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him -to remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs -before him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his efforts -to control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colour -rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again. - -"Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Where?" - -"On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same -occasion." - -"You are the young lady just now referred to?" - -"O! most unhappily, I am!" - -The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voice -of the Judge, as he said something fiercely: "Answer the questions put -to you, and make no remark upon them." - -"Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that -passage across the Channel?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Recall it." - -In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: "When the -gentleman came on board--" - -"Do you mean the prisoner?" inquired the Judge, knitting his brows. - -"Yes, my Lord." - -"Then say the prisoner." - -"When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father," turning -her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, "was much fatigued -and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was -afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the -deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take -care of him. There were no other passengers that night, but we four. -The prisoner was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could -shelter my father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. I -had not known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would -set when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressed -great gentleness and kindness for my father's state, and I am sure he -felt it. That was the manner of our beginning to speak together." - -"Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?" - -"No." - -"How many were with him?" - -"Two French gentlemen." - -"Had they conferred together?" - -"They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was -necessary for the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat." - -"Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these lists?" - -"Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don't know what -papers." - -"Like these in shape and size?" - -"Possibly, but indeed I don't know, although they stood whispering very -near to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have the -light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they -spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that -they looked at papers." - -"Now, to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette." - -"The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me--which arose out -of my helpless situation--as he was kind, and good, and useful to my -father. I hope," bursting into tears, "I may not repay him by doing him -harm to-day." - -Buzzing from the blue-flies. - -"Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that -you give the evidence which it is your duty to give--which you must -give--and which you cannot escape from giving--with great unwillingness, -he is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on." - -"He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and -difficult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was -therefore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this business -had, within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, -take him backwards and forwards between France and England for a long -time to come." - -"Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular." - -"He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said -that, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on -England's part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George -Washington might gain almost as great a name in history as George the -Third. But there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was said -laughingly, and to beguile the time." - -Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in -a scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be -unconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully -anxious and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when -she stopped for the Judge to write it down, watched its effect upon -the counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same -expression in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majority -of the foreheads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness, -when the Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendous -heresy about George Washington. - -Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it -necessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady's -father, Doctor Manette. Who was called accordingly. - -"Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him before?" - -"Once. When he called at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or -three years and a half ago." - -"Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet, or -speak to his conversation with your daughter?" - -"Sir, I can do neither." - -"Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do -either?" - -He answered, in a low voice, "There is." - -"Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment, without -trial, or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor Manette?" - -He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, "A long imprisonment." - -"Were you newly released on the occasion in question?" - -"They tell me so." - -"Have you no remembrance of the occasion?" - -"None. My mind is a blank, from some time--I cannot even say what -time--when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the -time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter -here. She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored -my faculties; but, I am quite unable even to say how she had become -familiar. I have no remembrance of the process." - -Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down -together. - -A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being -to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, -in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, and -got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he did -not remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or more, -to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a witness -was called to identify him as having been at the precise time required, -in the coffee-room of an hotel in that garrison-and-dockyard town, -waiting for another person. The prisoner's counsel was cross-examining -this witness with no result, except that he had never seen the prisoner -on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all this time -been looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on a -little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Opening -this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great -attention and curiosity at the prisoner. - -"You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?" - -The witness was quite sure. - -"Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?" - -Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken. - -"Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there," pointing -to him who had tossed the paper over, "and then look well upon the -prisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other?" - -Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slovenly -if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise, -not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus brought -into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay aside -his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness became -much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner's -counsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learned -friend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but he -would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once, might -happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if he had seen -this illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be so -confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to smash -this witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case to -useless lumber. - -Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his -fingers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr. -Stryver fitted the prisoner's case on the jury, like a compact suit -of clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and -traitor, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest -scoundrels upon earth since accursed Judas--which he certainly did look -rather like. How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, -and was worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and false -swearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family -affairs in France, he being of French extraction, did require his making -those passages across the Channel--though what those affairs were, a -consideration for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, -even for his life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped -and wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they -had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent -gallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any young gentleman -and young lady so thrown together;--with the exception of that -reference to George Washington, which was altogether too extravagant and -impossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. -How it would be a weakness in the government to break down in this -attempt to practise for popularity on the lowest national antipathies -and fears, and therefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; -how, nevertheless, it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamous -character of evidence too often disfiguring such cases, and of which the -State Trials of this country were full. But, there my Lord interposed -(with as grave a face as if it had not been true), saying that he could -not sit upon that Bench and suffer those allusions. - -Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to -attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr. -Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out; showing how Barsad and -Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the -prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turning -the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole -decidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner. - -And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed again. - -Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court, -changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. -While his teamed friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, -whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced -anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and -grouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his seat, -and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a suspicion -in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this one man -sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put -on just as it had happened to light on his head after its removal, his -hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all -day. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave him -a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he -undoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, -when they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the -lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would -hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the -observation to his next neighbour, and added, "I'd hold half a guinea -that _he_ don't get no law-work to do. Don't look like the sort of one -to get any, do he?" - -Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he -appeared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette's head dropped upon -her father's breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: -"Officer! look to that young lady. Help the gentleman to take her out. -Don't you see she will fall!" - -There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and much -sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to -him, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown -strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or -brooding look which made him old, had been upon him, like a heavy cloud, -ever since. As he passed out, the jury, who had turned back and paused a -moment, spoke, through their foreman. - -They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with George -Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were not agreed, -but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward, -and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps in -the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the -jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get -refreshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and sat -down. - -Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out, -now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, -could easily get near him. - -"Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the -way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don't be a moment -behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You -are the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long -before I can." - -Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in -acknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up -at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm. - -"How is the young lady?" - -"She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she -feels the better for being out of court." - -"I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank gentleman -like you, to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know." - -Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point -in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. -The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all -eyes, ears, and spikes. - -"Mr. Darnay!" - -The prisoner came forward directly. - -"You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. She -will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation." - -"I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so -for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?" - -"Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it." - -Mr. Carton's manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He stood, -half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the bar. - -"I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks." - -"What," said Carton, still only half turned towards him, "do you expect, -Mr. Darnay?" - -"The worst." - -"It's the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their -withdrawing is in your favour." - -Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no -more: but left them--so like each other in feature, so unlike each other -in manner--standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above -them. - -An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowded -passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. -The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking that -refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide -of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him along -with them. - -"Jerry! Jerry!" Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got -there. - -"Here, sir! It's a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!" - -Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. "Quick! Have you got -it?" - -"Yes, sir." - -Hastily written on the paper was the word "ACQUITTED." - -"If you had sent the message, 'Recalled to Life,' again," muttered -Jerry, as he turned, "I should have known what you meant, this time." - -He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything else, -until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring out -with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz -swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in -search of other carrion. - - - - -IV. Congratulatory - - -From the dimly-lighted passages of the court, the last sediment of the -human stew that had been boiling there all day, was straining off, when -Doctor Manette, Lucie Manette, his daughter, Mr. Lorry, the solicitor -for the defence, and its counsel, Mr. Stryver, stood gathered round Mr. -Charles Darnay--just released--congratulating him on his escape from -death. - -It would have been difficult by a far brighter light, to recognise -in Doctor Manette, intellectual of face and upright of bearing, the -shoemaker of the garret in Paris. Yet, no one could have looked at him -twice, without looking again: even though the opportunity of observation -had not extended to the mournful cadence of his low grave voice, and -to the abstraction that overclouded him fitfully, without any apparent -reason. While one external cause, and that a reference to his long -lingering agony, would always--as on the trial--evoke this condition -from the depths of his soul, it was also in its nature to arise of -itself, and to draw a gloom over him, as incomprehensible to those -unacquainted with his story as if they had seen the shadow of the actual -Bastille thrown upon him by a summer sun, when the substance was three -hundred miles away. - -Only his daughter had the power of charming this black brooding from -his mind. She was the golden thread that united him to a Past beyond his -misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and the sound of her voice, -the light of her face, the touch of her hand, had a strong beneficial -influence with him almost always. Not absolutely always, for she could -recall some occasions on which her power had failed; but they were few -and slight, and she believed them over. - -Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand fervently and gratefully, and had turned -to Mr. Stryver, whom he warmly thanked. Mr. Stryver, a man of little -more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than he was, stout, -loud, red, bluff, and free from any drawback of delicacy, had a pushing -way of shouldering himself (morally and physically) into companies and -conversations, that argued well for his shouldering his way up in life. - -He still had his wig and gown on, and he said, squaring himself at his -late client to that degree that he squeezed the innocent Mr. Lorry clean -out of the group: "I am glad to have brought you off with honour, Mr. -Darnay. It was an infamous prosecution, grossly infamous; but not the -less likely to succeed on that account." - -"You have laid me under an obligation to you for life--in two senses," -said his late client, taking his hand. - -"I have done my best for you, Mr. Darnay; and my best is as good as -another man's, I believe." - -It clearly being incumbent on some one to say, "Much better," Mr. Lorry -said it; perhaps not quite disinterestedly, but with the interested -object of squeezing himself back again. - -"You think so?" said Mr. Stryver. "Well! you have been present all day, -and you ought to know. You are a man of business, too." - -"And as such," quoth Mr. Lorry, whom the counsel learned in the law had -now shouldered back into the group, just as he had previously shouldered -him out of it--"as such I will appeal to Doctor Manette, to break up -this conference and order us all to our homes. Miss Lucie looks ill, Mr. -Darnay has had a terrible day, we are worn out." - -"Speak for yourself, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver; "I have a night's work to -do yet. Speak for yourself." - -"I speak for myself," answered Mr. Lorry, "and for Mr. Darnay, and for -Miss Lucie, and--Miss Lucie, do you not think I may speak for us all?" -He asked her the question pointedly, and with a glance at her father. - -His face had become frozen, as it were, in a very curious look at -Darnay: an intent look, deepening into a frown of dislike and distrust, -not even unmixed with fear. With this strange expression on him his -thoughts had wandered away. - -"My father," said Lucie, softly laying her hand on his. - -He slowly shook the shadow off, and turned to her. - -"Shall we go home, my father?" - -With a long breath, he answered "Yes." - -The friends of the acquitted prisoner had dispersed, under the -impression--which he himself had originated--that he would not be -released that night. The lights were nearly all extinguished in the -passages, the iron gates were being closed with a jar and a rattle, -and the dismal place was deserted until to-morrow morning's interest of -gallows, pillory, whipping-post, and branding-iron, should repeople it. -Walking between her father and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette passed into -the open air. A hackney-coach was called, and the father and daughter -departed in it. - -Mr. Stryver had left them in the passages, to shoulder his way back -to the robing-room. Another person, who had not joined the group, or -interchanged a word with any one of them, but who had been leaning -against the wall where its shadow was darkest, had silently strolled -out after the rest, and had looked on until the coach drove away. He now -stepped up to where Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay stood upon the pavement. - -"So, Mr. Lorry! Men of business may speak to Mr. Darnay now?" - -Nobody had made any acknowledgment of Mr. Carton's part in the day's -proceedings; nobody had known of it. He was unrobed, and was none the -better for it in appearance. - -"If you knew what a conflict goes on in the business mind, when the -business mind is divided between good-natured impulse and business -appearances, you would be amused, Mr. Darnay." - -Mr. Lorry reddened, and said, warmly, "You have mentioned that before, -sir. We men of business, who serve a House, are not our own masters. We -have to think of the House more than ourselves." - -"_I_ know, _I_ know," rejoined Mr. Carton, carelessly. "Don't be -nettled, Mr. Lorry. You are as good as another, I have no doubt: better, -I dare say." - -"And indeed, sir," pursued Mr. Lorry, not minding him, "I really don't -know what you have to do with the matter. If you'll excuse me, as very -much your elder, for saying so, I really don't know that it is your -business." - -"Business! Bless you, _I_ have no business," said Mr. Carton. - -"It is a pity you have not, sir." - -"I think so, too." - -"If you had," pursued Mr. Lorry, "perhaps you would attend to it." - -"Lord love you, no!--I shouldn't," said Mr. Carton. - -"Well, sir!" cried Mr. Lorry, thoroughly heated by his indifference, -"business is a very good thing, and a very respectable thing. And, sir, -if business imposes its restraints and its silences and impediments, Mr. -Darnay as a young gentleman of generosity knows how to make allowance -for that circumstance. Mr. Darnay, good night, God bless you, sir! -I hope you have been this day preserved for a prosperous and happy -life.--Chair there!" - -Perhaps a little angry with himself, as well as with the barrister, Mr. -Lorry bustled into the chair, and was carried off to Tellson's. Carton, -who smelt of port wine, and did not appear to be quite sober, laughed -then, and turned to Darnay: - -"This is a strange chance that throws you and me together. This must -be a strange night to you, standing alone here with your counterpart on -these street stones?" - -"I hardly seem yet," returned Charles Darnay, "to belong to this world -again." - -"I don't wonder at it; it's not so long since you were pretty far -advanced on your way to another. You speak faintly." - -"I begin to think I _am_ faint." - -"Then why the devil don't you dine? I dined, myself, while those -numskulls were deliberating which world you should belong to--this, or -some other. Let me show you the nearest tavern to dine well at." - -Drawing his arm through his own, he took him down Ludgate-hill to -Fleet-street, and so, up a covered way, into a tavern. Here, they were -shown into a little room, where Charles Darnay was soon recruiting -his strength with a good plain dinner and good wine: while Carton sat -opposite to him at the same table, with his separate bottle of port -before him, and his fully half-insolent manner upon him. - -"Do you feel, yet, that you belong to this terrestrial scheme again, Mr. -Darnay?" - -"I am frightfully confused regarding time and place; but I am so far -mended as to feel that." - -"It must be an immense satisfaction!" - -He said it bitterly, and filled up his glass again: which was a large -one. - -"As to me, the greatest desire I have, is to forget that I belong to it. -It has no good in it for me--except wine like this--nor I for it. So we -are not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we are -not much alike in any particular, you and I." - -Confused by the emotion of the day, and feeling his being there with -this Double of coarse deportment, to be like a dream, Charles Darnay was -at a loss how to answer; finally, answered not at all. - -"Now your dinner is done," Carton presently said, "why don't you call a -health, Mr. Darnay; why don't you give your toast?" - -"What health? What toast?" - -"Why, it's on the tip of your tongue. It ought to be, it must be, I'll -swear it's there." - -"Miss Manette, then!" - -"Miss Manette, then!" - -Looking his companion full in the face while he drank the toast, Carton -flung his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it shivered to -pieces; then, rang the bell, and ordered in another. - -"That's a fair young lady to hand to a coach in the dark, Mr. Darnay!" -he said, filling his new goblet. - -A slight frown and a laconic "Yes," were the answer. - -"That's a fair young lady to be pitied by and wept for by! How does it -feel? Is it worth being tried for one's life, to be the object of such -sympathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?" - -Again Darnay answered not a word. - -"She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it her. Not -that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was." - -The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this -disagreeable companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in the -strait of the day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and thanked him -for it. - -"I neither want any thanks, nor merit any," was the careless rejoinder. -"It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don't know why I did -it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question." - -"Willingly, and a small return for your good offices." - -"Do you think I particularly like you?" - -"Really, Mr. Carton," returned the other, oddly disconcerted, "I have -not asked myself the question." - -"But ask yourself the question now." - -"You have acted as if you do; but I don't think you do." - -"_I_ don't think I do," said Carton. "I begin to have a very good -opinion of your understanding." - -"Nevertheless," pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, "there is -nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and our -parting without ill-blood on either side." - -Carton rejoining, "Nothing in life!" Darnay rang. "Do you call the whole -reckoning?" said Carton. On his answering in the affirmative, "Then -bring me another pint of this same wine, drawer, and come and wake me at -ten." - -The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good night. -Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with something of a threat -of defiance in his manner, and said, "A last word, Mr. Darnay: you think -I am drunk?" - -"I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton." - -"Think? You know I have been drinking." - -"Since I must say so, I know it." - -"Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I -care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me." - -"Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better." - -"May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don't let your sober face elate you, -however; you don't know what it may come to. Good night!" - -When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle, went to a -glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it. - -"Do you particularly like the man?" he muttered, at his own image; "why -should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing -in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change you have -made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he shows you -what you have fallen away from, and what you might have been! Change -places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as -he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he was? Come on, and -have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow." - -He resorted to his pint of wine for consolation, drank it all in a few -minutes, and fell asleep on his arms, with his hair straggling over the -table, and a long winding-sheet in the candle dripping down upon him. - - - - -V. The Jackal - - -Those were drinking days, and most men drank hard. So very great is -the improvement Time has brought about in such habits, that a moderate -statement of the quantity of wine and punch which one man would swallow -in the course of a night, without any detriment to his reputation as a -perfect gentleman, would seem, in these days, a ridiculous exaggeration. -The learned profession of the law was certainly not behind any other -learned profession in its Bacchanalian propensities; neither was Mr. -Stryver, already fast shouldering his way to a large and lucrative -practice, behind his compeers in this particular, any more than in the -drier parts of the legal race. - -A favourite at the Old Bailey, and eke at the Sessions, Mr. Stryver had -begun cautiously to hew away the lower staves of the ladder on which -he mounted. Sessions and Old Bailey had now to summon their favourite, -specially, to their longing arms; and shouldering itself towards the -visage of the Lord Chief Justice in the Court of King's Bench, the -florid countenance of Mr. Stryver might be daily seen, bursting out of -the bed of wigs, like a great sunflower pushing its way at the sun from -among a rank garden-full of flaring companions. - -It had once been noted at the Bar, that while Mr. Stryver was a glib -man, and an unscrupulous, and a ready, and a bold, he had not that -faculty of extracting the essence from a heap of statements, which is -among the most striking and necessary of the advocate's accomplishments. -But, a remarkable improvement came upon him as to this. The more -business he got, the greater his power seemed to grow of getting at its -pith and marrow; and however late at night he sat carousing with Sydney -Carton, he always had his points at his fingers' ends in the morning. - -Sydney Carton, idlest and most unpromising of men, was Stryver's great -ally. What the two drank together, between Hilary Term and Michaelmas, -might have floated a king's ship. Stryver never had a case in hand, -anywhere, but Carton was there, with his hands in his pockets, staring -at the ceiling of the court; they went the same Circuit, and even there -they prolonged their usual orgies late into the night, and Carton was -rumoured to be seen at broad day, going home stealthily and unsteadily -to his lodgings, like a dissipated cat. At last, it began to get about, -among such as were interested in the matter, that although Sydney Carton -would never be a lion, he was an amazingly good jackal, and that he -rendered suit and service to Stryver in that humble capacity. - -"Ten o'clock, sir," said the man at the tavern, whom he had charged to -wake him--"ten o'clock, sir." - -"_What's_ the matter?" - -"Ten o'clock, sir." - -"What do you mean? Ten o'clock at night?" - -"Yes, sir. Your honour told me to call you." - -"Oh! I remember. Very well, very well." - -After a few dull efforts to get to sleep again, which the man -dexterously combated by stirring the fire continuously for five minutes, -he got up, tossed his hat on, and walked out. He turned into the Temple, -and, having revived himself by twice pacing the pavements of King's -Bench-walk and Paper-buildings, turned into the Stryver chambers. - -The Stryver clerk, who never assisted at these conferences, had gone -home, and the Stryver principal opened the door. He had his slippers on, -and a loose bed-gown, and his throat was bare for his greater ease. He -had that rather wild, strained, seared marking about the eyes, which -may be observed in all free livers of his class, from the portrait of -Jeffries downward, and which can be traced, under various disguises of -Art, through the portraits of every Drinking Age. - -"You are a little late, Memory," said Stryver. - -"About the usual time; it may be a quarter of an hour later." - -They went into a dingy room lined with books and littered with papers, -where there was a blazing fire. A kettle steamed upon the hob, and in -the midst of the wreck of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine upon -it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons. - -"You have had your bottle, I perceive, Sydney." - -"Two to-night, I think. I have been dining with the day's client; or -seeing him dine--it's all one!" - -"That was a rare point, Sydney, that you brought to bear upon the -identification. How did you come by it? When did it strike you?" - -"I thought he was rather a handsome fellow, and I thought I should have -been much the same sort of fellow, if I had had any luck." - -Mr. Stryver laughed till he shook his precocious paunch. - -"You and your luck, Sydney! Get to work, get to work." - -Sullenly enough, the jackal loosened his dress, went into an adjoining -room, and came back with a large jug of cold water, a basin, and a towel -or two. Steeping the towels in the water, and partially wringing them -out, he folded them on his head in a manner hideous to behold, sat down -at the table, and said, "Now I am ready!" - -"Not much boiling down to be done to-night, Memory," said Mr. Stryver, -gaily, as he looked among his papers. - -"How much?" - -"Only two sets of them." - -"Give me the worst first." - -"There they are, Sydney. Fire away!" - -The lion then composed himself on his back on a sofa on one side of the -drinking-table, while the jackal sat at his own paper-bestrewn table -proper, on the other side of it, with the bottles and glasses ready to -his hand. Both resorted to the drinking-table without stint, but each in -a different way; the lion for the most part reclining with his hands in -his waistband, looking at the fire, or occasionally flirting with some -lighter document; the jackal, with knitted brows and intent face, -so deep in his task, that his eyes did not even follow the hand he -stretched out for his glass--which often groped about, for a minute or -more, before it found the glass for his lips. Two or three times, the -matter in hand became so knotty, that the jackal found it imperative on -him to get up, and steep his towels anew. From these pilgrimages to the -jug and basin, he returned with such eccentricities of damp headgear as -no words can describe; which were made the more ludicrous by his anxious -gravity. - -At length the jackal had got together a compact repast for the lion, and -proceeded to offer it to him. The lion took it with care and caution, -made his selections from it, and his remarks upon it, and the jackal -assisted both. When the repast was fully discussed, the lion put his -hands in his waistband again, and lay down to meditate. The jackal then -invigorated himself with a bumper for his throttle, and a fresh application -to his head, and applied himself to the collection of a second meal; -this was administered to the lion in the same manner, and was not -disposed of until the clocks struck three in the morning. - -"And now we have done, Sydney, fill a bumper of punch," said Mr. -Stryver. - -The jackal removed the towels from his head, which had been steaming -again, shook himself, yawned, shivered, and complied. - -"You were very sound, Sydney, in the matter of those crown witnesses -to-day. Every question told." - -"I always am sound; am I not?" - -"I don't gainsay it. What has roughened your temper? Put some punch to -it and smooth it again." - -With a deprecatory grunt, the jackal again complied. - -"The old Sydney Carton of old Shrewsbury School," said Stryver, nodding -his head over him as he reviewed him in the present and the past, "the -old seesaw Sydney. Up one minute and down the next; now in spirits and -now in despondency!" - -"Ah!" returned the other, sighing: "yes! The same Sydney, with the same -luck. Even then, I did exercises for other boys, and seldom did my own." - -"And why not?" - -"God knows. It was my way, I suppose." - -He sat, with his hands in his pockets and his legs stretched out before -him, looking at the fire. - -"Carton," said his friend, squaring himself at him with a bullying air, -as if the fire-grate had been the furnace in which sustained endeavour -was forged, and the one delicate thing to be done for the old Sydney -Carton of old Shrewsbury School was to shoulder him into it, "your way -is, and always was, a lame way. You summon no energy and purpose. Look -at me." - -"Oh, botheration!" returned Sydney, with a lighter and more -good-humoured laugh, "don't _you_ be moral!" - -"How have I done what I have done?" said Stryver; "how do I do what I -do?" - -"Partly through paying me to help you, I suppose. But it's not worth -your while to apostrophise me, or the air, about it; what you want to -do, you do. You were always in the front rank, and I was always behind." - -"I had to get into the front rank; I was not born there, was I?" - -"I was not present at the ceremony; but my opinion is you were," said -Carton. At this, he laughed again, and they both laughed. - -"Before Shrewsbury, and at Shrewsbury, and ever since Shrewsbury," -pursued Carton, "you have fallen into your rank, and I have fallen into -mine. Even when we were fellow-students in the Student-Quarter of Paris, -picking up French, and French law, and other French crumbs that we -didn't get much good of, you were always somewhere, and I was always -nowhere." - -"And whose fault was that?" - -"Upon my soul, I am not sure that it was not yours. You were always -driving and riving and shouldering and passing, to that restless degree -that I had no chance for my life but in rust and repose. It's a gloomy -thing, however, to talk about one's own past, with the day breaking. -Turn me in some other direction before I go." - -"Well then! Pledge me to the pretty witness," said Stryver, holding up -his glass. "Are you turned in a pleasant direction?" - -Apparently not, for he became gloomy again. - -"Pretty witness," he muttered, looking down into his glass. "I have had -enough of witnesses to-day and to-night; who's your pretty witness?" - -"The picturesque doctor's daughter, Miss Manette." - -"_She_ pretty?" - -"Is she not?" - -"No." - -"Why, man alive, she was the admiration of the whole Court!" - -"Rot the admiration of the whole Court! Who made the Old Bailey a judge -of beauty? She was a golden-haired doll!" - -"Do you know, Sydney," said Mr. Stryver, looking at him with sharp eyes, -and slowly drawing a hand across his florid face: "do you know, I rather -thought, at the time, that you sympathised with the golden-haired doll, -and were quick to see what happened to the golden-haired doll?" - -"Quick to see what happened! If a girl, doll or no doll, swoons within a -yard or two of a man's nose, he can see it without a perspective-glass. -I pledge you, but I deny the beauty. And now I'll have no more drink; -I'll get to bed." - -When his host followed him out on the staircase with a candle, to light -him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in through its grimy -windows. When he got out of the house, the air was cold and sad, the -dull sky overcast, the river dark and dim, the whole scene like a -lifeless desert. And wreaths of dust were spinning round and round -before the morning blast, as if the desert-sand had risen far away, and -the first spray of it in its advance had begun to overwhelm the city. - -Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still -on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the -wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and -perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries -from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the -fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. -A moment, and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of -houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its -pillow was wet with wasted tears. - -Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of -good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, -incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight -on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away. - - - - -VI. Hundreds of People - - -The quiet lodgings of Doctor Manette were in a quiet street-corner not -far from Soho-square. On the afternoon of a certain fine Sunday when the -waves of four months had rolled over the trial for treason, and carried -it, as to the public interest and memory, far out to sea, Mr. Jarvis -Lorry walked along the sunny streets from Clerkenwell where he lived, -on his way to dine with the Doctor. After several relapses into -business-absorption, Mr. Lorry had become the Doctor's friend, and the -quiet street-corner was the sunny part of his life. - -On this certain fine Sunday, Mr. Lorry walked towards Soho, early in -the afternoon, for three reasons of habit. Firstly, because, on fine -Sundays, he often walked out, before dinner, with the Doctor and Lucie; -secondly, because, on unfavourable Sundays, he was accustomed to be with -them as the family friend, talking, reading, looking out of window, and -generally getting through the day; thirdly, because he happened to have -his own little shrewd doubts to solve, and knew how the ways of the -Doctor's household pointed to that time as a likely time for solving -them. - -A quainter corner than the corner where the Doctor lived, was not to be -found in London. There was no way through it, and the front windows of -the Doctor's lodgings commanded a pleasant little vista of street that -had a congenial air of retirement on it. There were few buildings then, -north of the Oxford-road, and forest-trees flourished, and wild flowers -grew, and the hawthorn blossomed, in the now vanished fields. As a -consequence, country airs circulated in Soho with vigorous freedom, -instead of languishing into the parish like stray paupers without a -settlement; and there was many a good south wall, not far off, on which -the peaches ripened in their season. - -The summer light struck into the corner brilliantly in the earlier part -of the day; but, when the streets grew hot, the corner was in shadow, -though not in shadow so remote but that you could see beyond it into a -glare of brightness. It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful -place for echoes, and a very harbour from the raging streets. - -There ought to have been a tranquil bark in such an anchorage, and -there was. The Doctor occupied two floors of a large stiff house, where -several callings purported to be pursued by day, but whereof little was -audible any day, and which was shunned by all of them at night. In -a building at the back, attainable by a courtyard where a plane-tree -rustled its green leaves, church-organs claimed to be made, and silver -to be chased, and likewise gold to be beaten by some mysterious giant -who had a golden arm starting out of the wall of the front hall--as if -he had beaten himself precious, and menaced a similar conversion of all -visitors. Very little of these trades, or of a lonely lodger rumoured -to live up-stairs, or of a dim coach-trimming maker asserted to have -a counting-house below, was ever heard or seen. Occasionally, a stray -workman putting his coat on, traversed the hall, or a stranger peered -about there, or a distant clink was heard across the courtyard, or a -thump from the golden giant. These, however, were only the exceptions -required to prove the rule that the sparrows in the plane-tree behind -the house, and the echoes in the corner before it, had their own way -from Sunday morning unto Saturday night. - -Doctor Manette received such patients here as his old reputation, and -its revival in the floating whispers of his story, brought him. -His scientific knowledge, and his vigilance and skill in conducting -ingenious experiments, brought him otherwise into moderate request, and -he earned as much as he wanted. - -These things were within Mr. Jarvis Lorry's knowledge, thoughts, and -notice, when he rang the door-bell of the tranquil house in the corner, -on the fine Sunday afternoon. - -"Doctor Manette at home?" - -Expected home. - -"Miss Lucie at home?" - -Expected home. - -"Miss Pross at home?" - -Possibly at home, but of a certainty impossible for handmaid to -anticipate intentions of Miss Pross, as to admission or denial of the -fact. - -"As I am at home myself," said Mr. Lorry, "I'll go upstairs." - -Although the Doctor's daughter had known nothing of the country of her -birth, she appeared to have innately derived from it that ability to -make much of little means, which is one of its most useful and most -agreeable characteristics. Simple as the furniture was, it was set off -by so many little adornments, of no value but for their taste and fancy, -that its effect was delightful. The disposition of everything in the -rooms, from the largest object to the least; the arrangement of colours, -the elegant variety and contrast obtained by thrift in trifles, by -delicate hands, clear eyes, and good sense; were at once so pleasant in -themselves, and so expressive of their originator, that, as Mr. Lorry -stood looking about him, the very chairs and tables seemed to ask him, -with something of that peculiar expression which he knew so well by this -time, whether he approved? - -There were three rooms on a floor, and, the doors by which they -communicated being put open that the air might pass freely through them -all, Mr. Lorry, smilingly observant of that fanciful resemblance which -he detected all around him, walked from one to another. The first was -the best room, and in it were Lucie's birds, and flowers, and books, -and desk, and work-table, and box of water-colours; the second was -the Doctor's consulting-room, used also as the dining-room; the third, -changingly speckled by the rustle of the plane-tree in the yard, was the -Doctor's bedroom, and there, in a corner, stood the disused shoemaker's -bench and tray of tools, much as it had stood on the fifth floor of the -dismal house by the wine-shop, in the suburb of Saint Antoine in Paris. - -"I wonder," said Mr. Lorry, pausing in his looking about, "that he keeps -that reminder of his sufferings about him!" - -"And why wonder at that?" was the abrupt inquiry that made him start. - -It proceeded from Miss Pross, the wild red woman, strong of hand, whose -acquaintance he had first made at the Royal George Hotel at Dover, and -had since improved. - -"I should have thought--" Mr. Lorry began. - -"Pooh! You'd have thought!" said Miss Pross; and Mr. Lorry left off. - -"How do you do?" inquired that lady then--sharply, and yet as if to -express that she bore him no malice. - -"I am pretty well, I thank you," answered Mr. Lorry, with meekness; "how -are you?" - -"Nothing to boast of," said Miss Pross. - -"Indeed?" - -"Ah! indeed!" said Miss Pross. "I am very much put out about my -Ladybird." - -"Indeed?" - -"For gracious sake say something else besides 'indeed,' or you'll -fidget me to death," said Miss Pross: whose character (dissociated from -stature) was shortness. - -"Really, then?" said Mr. Lorry, as an amendment. - -"Really, is bad enough," returned Miss Pross, "but better. Yes, I am -very much put out." - -"May I ask the cause?" - -"I don't want dozens of people who are not at all worthy of Ladybird, to -come here looking after her," said Miss Pross. - -"_Do_ dozens come for that purpose?" - -"Hundreds," said Miss Pross. - -It was characteristic of this lady (as of some other people before her -time and since) that whenever her original proposition was questioned, -she exaggerated it. - -"Dear me!" said Mr. Lorry, as the safest remark he could think of. - -"I have lived with the darling--or the darling has lived with me, and -paid me for it; which she certainly should never have done, you may take -your affidavit, if I could have afforded to keep either myself or her -for nothing--since she was ten years old. And it's really very hard," -said Miss Pross. - -Not seeing with precision what was very hard, Mr. Lorry shook his head; -using that important part of himself as a sort of fairy cloak that would -fit anything. - -"All sorts of people who are not in the least degree worthy of the pet, -are always turning up," said Miss Pross. "When you began it--" - -"_I_ began it, Miss Pross?" - -"Didn't you? Who brought her father to life?" - -"Oh! If _that_ was beginning it--" said Mr. Lorry. - -"It wasn't ending it, I suppose? I say, when you began it, it was hard -enough; not that I have any fault to find with Doctor Manette, except -that he is not worthy of such a daughter, which is no imputation on -him, for it was not to be expected that anybody should be, under any -circumstances. But it really is doubly and trebly hard to have crowds -and multitudes of people turning up after him (I could have forgiven -him), to take Ladybird's affections away from me." - -Mr. Lorry knew Miss Pross to be very jealous, but he also knew her by -this time to be, beneath the service of her eccentricity, one of those -unselfish creatures--found only among women--who will, for pure love and -admiration, bind themselves willing slaves, to youth when they have lost -it, to beauty that they never had, to accomplishments that they were -never fortunate enough to gain, to bright hopes that never shone upon -their own sombre lives. He knew enough of the world to know that there -is nothing in it better than the faithful service of the heart; so -rendered and so free from any mercenary taint, he had such an exalted -respect for it, that in the retributive arrangements made by his own -mind--we all make such arrangements, more or less--he stationed Miss -Pross much nearer to the lower Angels than many ladies immeasurably -better got up both by Nature and Art, who had balances at Tellson's. - -"There never was, nor will be, but one man worthy of Ladybird," said -Miss Pross; "and that was my brother Solomon, if he hadn't made a -mistake in life." - -Here again: Mr. Lorry's inquiries into Miss Pross's personal history had -established the fact that her brother Solomon was a heartless scoundrel -who had stripped her of everything she possessed, as a stake to -speculate with, and had abandoned her in her poverty for evermore, with -no touch of compunction. Miss Pross's fidelity of belief in Solomon -(deducting a mere trifle for this slight mistake) was quite a serious -matter with Mr. Lorry, and had its weight in his good opinion of her. - -"As we happen to be alone for the moment, and are both people of -business," he said, when they had got back to the drawing-room and had -sat down there in friendly relations, "let me ask you--does the Doctor, -in talking with Lucie, never refer to the shoemaking time, yet?" - -"Never." - -"And yet keeps that bench and those tools beside him?" - -"Ah!" returned Miss Pross, shaking her head. "But I don't say he don't -refer to it within himself." - -"Do you believe that he thinks of it much?" - -"I do," said Miss Pross. - -"Do you imagine--" Mr. Lorry had begun, when Miss Pross took him up -short with: - -"Never imagine anything. Have no imagination at all." - -"I stand corrected; do you suppose--you go so far as to suppose, -sometimes?" - -"Now and then," said Miss Pross. - -"Do you suppose," Mr. Lorry went on, with a laughing twinkle in his -bright eye, as it looked kindly at her, "that Doctor Manette has any -theory of his own, preserved through all those years, relative to -the cause of his being so oppressed; perhaps, even to the name of his -oppressor?" - -"I don't suppose anything about it but what Ladybird tells me." - -"And that is--?" - -"That she thinks he has." - -"Now don't be angry at my asking all these questions; because I am a -mere dull man of business, and you are a woman of business." - -"Dull?" Miss Pross inquired, with placidity. - -Rather wishing his modest adjective away, Mr. Lorry replied, "No, no, -no. Surely not. To return to business:--Is it not remarkable that Doctor -Manette, unquestionably innocent of any crime as we are all well assured -he is, should never touch upon that question? I will not say with me, -though he had business relations with me many years ago, and we are now -intimate; I will say with the fair daughter to whom he is so devotedly -attached, and who is so devotedly attached to him? Believe me, Miss -Pross, I don't approach the topic with you, out of curiosity, but out of -zealous interest." - -"Well! To the best of my understanding, and bad's the best, you'll tell -me," said Miss Pross, softened by the tone of the apology, "he is afraid -of the whole subject." - -"Afraid?" - -"It's plain enough, I should think, why he may be. It's a dreadful -remembrance. Besides that, his loss of himself grew out of it. Not -knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never -feel certain of not losing himself again. That alone wouldn't make the -subject pleasant, I should think." - -It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had looked for. "True," said -he, "and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a doubt lurks in my mind, Miss -Pross, whether it is good for Doctor Manette to have that suppression -always shut up within him. Indeed, it is this doubt and the uneasiness -it sometimes causes me that has led me to our present confidence." - -"Can't be helped," said Miss Pross, shaking her head. "Touch that -string, and he instantly changes for the worse. Better leave it alone. -In short, must leave it alone, like or no like. Sometimes, he gets up in -the dead of the night, and will be heard, by us overhead there, walking -up and down, walking up and down, in his room. Ladybird has learnt to -know then that his mind is walking up and down, walking up and down, in -his old prison. She hurries to him, and they go on together, walking up -and down, walking up and down, until he is composed. But he never says -a word of the true reason of his restlessness, to her, and she finds it -best not to hint at it to him. In silence they go walking up and down -together, walking up and down together, till her love and company have -brought him to himself." - -Notwithstanding Miss Pross's denial of her own imagination, there was a -perception of the pain of being monotonously haunted by one sad idea, -in her repetition of the phrase, walking up and down, which testified to -her possessing such a thing. - -The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner for echoes; it -had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread of coming feet, that it -seemed as though the very mention of that weary pacing to and fro had -set it going. - -"Here they are!" said Miss Pross, rising to break up the conference; -"and now we shall have hundreds of people pretty soon!" - -It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a -peculiar Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open window, -looking for the father and daughter whose steps he heard, he fancied -they would never approach. Not only would the echoes die away, as though -the steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps that never came would be -heard in their stead, and would die away for good when they seemed close -at hand. However, father and daughter did at last appear, and Miss Pross -was ready at the street door to receive them. - -Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking -off her darling's bonnet when she came up-stairs, and touching it up -with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the dust off it, and -folding her mantle ready for laying by, and smoothing her rich hair with -as much pride as she could possibly have taken in her own hair if she -had been the vainest and handsomest of women. Her darling was a pleasant -sight too, embracing her and thanking her, and protesting against -her taking so much trouble for her--which last she only dared to do -playfully, or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to her own -chamber and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too, looking on at -them, and telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accents and with -eyes that had as much spoiling in them as Miss Pross had, and would -have had more if it were possible. Mr. Lorry was a pleasant sight too, -beaming at all this in his little wig, and thanking his bachelor -stars for having lighted him in his declining years to a Home. But, no -Hundreds of people came to see the sights, and Mr. Lorry looked in vain -for the fulfilment of Miss Pross's prediction. - -Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In the arrangements of -the little household, Miss Pross took charge of the lower regions, and -always acquitted herself marvellously. Her dinners, of a very modest -quality, were so well cooked and so well served, and so neat in their -contrivances, half English and half French, that nothing could be -better. Miss Pross's friendship being of the thoroughly practical -kind, she had ravaged Soho and the adjacent provinces, in search of -impoverished French, who, tempted by shillings and half-crowns, would -impart culinary mysteries to her. From these decayed sons and daughters -of Gaul, she had acquired such wonderful arts, that the woman and girl -who formed the staff of domestics regarded her as quite a Sorceress, -or Cinderella's Godmother: who would send out for a fowl, a rabbit, -a vegetable or two from the garden, and change them into anything she -pleased. - -On Sundays, Miss Pross dined at the Doctor's table, but on other days -persisted in taking her meals at unknown periods, either in the lower -regions, or in her own room on the second floor--a blue chamber, to -which no one but her Ladybird ever gained admittance. On this occasion, -Miss Pross, responding to Ladybird's pleasant face and pleasant efforts -to please her, unbent exceedingly; so the dinner was very pleasant, too. - -It was an oppressive day, and, after dinner, Lucie proposed that the -wine should be carried out under the plane-tree, and they should sit -there in the air. As everything turned upon her, and revolved about her, -they went out under the plane-tree, and she carried the wine down for -the special benefit of Mr. Lorry. She had installed herself, some -time before, as Mr. Lorry's cup-bearer; and while they sat under the -plane-tree, talking, she kept his glass replenished. Mysterious backs -and ends of houses peeped at them as they talked, and the plane-tree -whispered to them in its own way above their heads. - -Still, the Hundreds of people did not present themselves. Mr. Darnay -presented himself while they were sitting under the plane-tree, but he -was only One. - -Doctor Manette received him kindly, and so did Lucie. But, Miss Pross -suddenly became afflicted with a twitching in the head and body, and -retired into the house. She was not unfrequently the victim of this -disorder, and she called it, in familiar conversation, "a fit of the -jerks." - -The Doctor was in his best condition, and looked specially young. The -resemblance between him and Lucie was very strong at such times, and as -they sat side by side, she leaning on his shoulder, and he resting -his arm on the back of her chair, it was very agreeable to trace the -likeness. - -He had been talking all day, on many subjects, and with unusual -vivacity. "Pray, Doctor Manette," said Mr. Darnay, as they sat under the -plane-tree--and he said it in the natural pursuit of the topic in hand, -which happened to be the old buildings of London--"have you seen much of -the Tower?" - -"Lucie and I have been there; but only casually. We have seen enough of -it, to know that it teems with interest; little more." - -"_I_ have been there, as you remember," said Darnay, with a smile, -though reddening a little angrily, "in another character, and not in a -character that gives facilities for seeing much of it. They told me a -curious thing when I was there." - -"What was that?" Lucie asked. - -"In making some alterations, the workmen came upon an old dungeon, which -had been, for many years, built up and forgotten. Every stone of -its inner wall was covered by inscriptions which had been carved by -prisoners--dates, names, complaints, and prayers. Upon a corner stone -in an angle of the wall, one prisoner, who seemed to have gone to -execution, had cut as his last work, three letters. They were done with -some very poor instrument, and hurriedly, with an unsteady hand. -At first, they were read as D. I. C.; but, on being more carefully -examined, the last letter was found to be G. There was no record or -legend of any prisoner with those initials, and many fruitless guesses -were made what the name could have been. At length, it was suggested -that the letters were not initials, but the complete word, DIG. The -floor was examined very carefully under the inscription, and, in the -earth beneath a stone, or tile, or some fragment of paving, were found -the ashes of a paper, mingled with the ashes of a small leathern case -or bag. What the unknown prisoner had written will never be read, but he -had written something, and hidden it away to keep it from the gaoler." - -"My father," exclaimed Lucie, "you are ill!" - -He had suddenly started up, with his hand to his head. His manner and -his look quite terrified them all. - -"No, my dear, not ill. There are large drops of rain falling, and they -made me start. We had better go in." - -He recovered himself almost instantly. Rain was really falling in large -drops, and he showed the back of his hand with rain-drops on it. But, he -said not a single word in reference to the discovery that had been told -of, and, as they went into the house, the business eye of Mr. Lorry -either detected, or fancied it detected, on his face, as it turned -towards Charles Darnay, the same singular look that had been upon it -when it turned towards him in the passages of the Court House. - -He recovered himself so quickly, however, that Mr. Lorry had doubts of -his business eye. The arm of the golden giant in the hall was not more -steady than he was, when he stopped under it to remark to them that he -was not yet proof against slight surprises (if he ever would be), and -that the rain had startled him. - -Tea-time, and Miss Pross making tea, with another fit of the jerks upon -her, and yet no Hundreds of people. Mr. Carton had lounged in, but he -made only Two. - -The night was so very sultry, that although they sat with doors and -windows open, they were overpowered by heat. When the tea-table was -done with, they all moved to one of the windows, and looked out into the -heavy twilight. Lucie sat by her father; Darnay sat beside her; Carton -leaned against a window. The curtains were long and white, and some of -the thunder-gusts that whirled into the corner, caught them up to the -ceiling, and waved them like spectral wings. - -"The rain-drops are still falling, large, heavy, and few," said Doctor -Manette. "It comes slowly." - -"It comes surely," said Carton. - -They spoke low, as people watching and waiting mostly do; as people in a -dark room, watching and waiting for Lightning, always do. - -There was a great hurry in the streets of people speeding away to -get shelter before the storm broke; the wonderful corner for echoes -resounded with the echoes of footsteps coming and going, yet not a -footstep was there. - -"A multitude of people, and yet a solitude!" said Darnay, when they had -listened for a while. - -"Is it not impressive, Mr. Darnay?" asked Lucie. "Sometimes, I have -sat here of an evening, until I have fancied--but even the shade of -a foolish fancy makes me shudder to-night, when all is so black and -solemn--" - -"Let us shudder too. We may know what it is." - -"It will seem nothing to you. Such whims are only impressive as we -originate them, I think; they are not to be communicated. I have -sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made -the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming -by-and-bye into our lives." - -"There is a great crowd coming one day into our lives, if that be so," -Sydney Carton struck in, in his moody way. - -The footsteps were incessant, and the hurry of them became more and more -rapid. The corner echoed and re-echoed with the tread of feet; some, -as it seemed, under the windows; some, as it seemed, in the room; some -coming, some going, some breaking off, some stopping altogether; all in -the distant streets, and not one within sight. - -"Are all these footsteps destined to come to all of us, Miss Manette, or -are we to divide them among us?" - -"I don't know, Mr. Darnay; I told you it was a foolish fancy, but you -asked for it. When I have yielded myself to it, I have been alone, and -then I have imagined them the footsteps of the people who are to come -into my life, and my father's." - -"I take them into mine!" said Carton. "_I_ ask no questions and make no -stipulations. There is a great crowd bearing down upon us, Miss Manette, -and I see them--by the Lightning." He added the last words, after there -had been a vivid flash which had shown him lounging in the window. - -"And I hear them!" he added again, after a peal of thunder. "Here they -come, fast, fierce, and furious!" - -It was the rush and roar of rain that he typified, and it stopped him, -for no voice could be heard in it. A memorable storm of thunder and -lightning broke with that sweep of water, and there was not a moment's -interval in crash, and fire, and rain, until after the moon rose at -midnight. - -The great bell of Saint Paul's was striking one in the cleared air, when -Mr. Lorry, escorted by Jerry, high-booted and bearing a lantern, set -forth on his return-passage to Clerkenwell. There were solitary patches -of road on the way between Soho and Clerkenwell, and Mr. Lorry, mindful -of foot-pads, always retained Jerry for this service: though it was -usually performed a good two hours earlier. - -"What a night it has been! Almost a night, Jerry," said Mr. Lorry, "to -bring the dead out of their graves." - -"I never see the night myself, master--nor yet I don't expect to--what -would do that," answered Jerry. - -"Good night, Mr. Carton," said the man of business. "Good night, Mr. -Darnay. Shall we ever see such a night again, together!" - -Perhaps. Perhaps, see the great crowd of people with its rush and roar, -bearing down upon them, too. - - - - -VII. Monseigneur in Town - - -Monseigneur, one of the great lords in power at the Court, held his -fortnightly reception in his grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was in -his inner room, his sanctuary of sanctuaries, the Holiest of Holiests to -the crowd of worshippers in the suite of rooms without. Monseigneur -was about to take his chocolate. Monseigneur could swallow a great many -things with ease, and was by some few sullen minds supposed to be rather -rapidly swallowing France; but, his morning's chocolate could not so -much as get into the throat of Monseigneur, without the aid of four -strong men besides the Cook. - -Yes. It took four men, all four ablaze with gorgeous decoration, and the -Chief of them unable to exist with fewer than two gold watches in his -pocket, emulative of the noble and chaste fashion set by Monseigneur, to -conduct the happy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carried -the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed -the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; -a third, presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold -watches), poured the chocolate out. It was impossible for Monseigneur to -dispense with one of these attendants on the chocolate and hold his high -place under the admiring Heavens. Deep would have been the blot upon -his escutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three -men; he must have died of two. - -Monseigneur had been out at a little supper last night, where the Comedy -and the Grand Opera were charmingly represented. Monseigneur was out at -a little supper most nights, with fascinating company. So polite and so -impressible was Monseigneur, that the Comedy and the Grand Opera had far -more influence with him in the tiresome articles of state affairs and -state secrets, than the needs of all France. A happy circumstance -for France, as the like always is for all countries similarly -favoured!--always was for England (by way of example), in the regretted -days of the merry Stuart who sold it. - -Monseigneur had one truly noble idea of general public business, which -was, to let everything go on in its own way; of particular public -business, Monseigneur had the other truly noble idea that it must all go -his way--tend to his own power and pocket. Of his pleasures, general and -particular, Monseigneur had the other truly noble idea, that the world -was made for them. The text of his order (altered from the original -by only a pronoun, which is not much) ran: "The earth and the fulness -thereof are mine, saith Monseigneur." - -Yet, Monseigneur had slowly found that vulgar embarrassments crept into -his affairs, both private and public; and he had, as to both classes of -affairs, allied himself perforce with a Farmer-General. As to finances -public, because Monseigneur could not make anything at all of them, and -must consequently let them out to somebody who could; as to finances -private, because Farmer-Generals were rich, and Monseigneur, after -generations of great luxury and expense, was growing poor. Hence -Monseigneur had taken his sister from a convent, while there was yet -time to ward off the impending veil, the cheapest garment she could -wear, and had bestowed her as a prize upon a very rich Farmer-General, -poor in family. Which Farmer-General, carrying an appropriate cane with -a golden apple on the top of it, was now among the company in the outer -rooms, much prostrated before by mankind--always excepting superior -mankind of the blood of Monseigneur, who, his own wife included, looked -down upon him with the loftiest contempt. - -A sumptuous man was the Farmer-General. Thirty horses stood in his -stables, twenty-four male domestics sat in his halls, six body-women -waited on his wife. As one who pretended to do nothing but plunder and -forage where he could, the Farmer-General--howsoever his matrimonial -relations conduced to social morality--was at least the greatest reality -among the personages who attended at the hotel of Monseigneur that day. - -For, the rooms, though a beautiful scene to look at, and adorned with -every device of decoration that the taste and skill of the time could -achieve, were, in truth, not a sound business; considered with any -reference to the scarecrows in the rags and nightcaps elsewhere (and not -so far off, either, but that the watching towers of Notre Dame, almost -equidistant from the two extremes, could see them both), they would -have been an exceedingly uncomfortable business--if that could have -been anybody's business, at the house of Monseigneur. Military officers -destitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship; -civil officers without a notion of affairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of the -worst world worldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, and looser lives; -all totally unfit for their several callings, all lying horribly in -pretending to belong to them, but all nearly or remotely of the order of -Monseigneur, and therefore foisted on all public employments from which -anything was to be got; these were to be told off by the score and the -score. People not immediately connected with Monseigneur or the State, -yet equally unconnected with anything that was real, or with lives -passed in travelling by any straight road to any true earthly end, were -no less abundant. Doctors who made great fortunes out of dainty remedies -for imaginary disorders that never existed, smiled upon their courtly -patients in the ante-chambers of Monseigneur. Projectors who had -discovered every kind of remedy for the little evils with which the -State was touched, except the remedy of setting to work in earnest to -root out a single sin, poured their distracting babble into any ears -they could lay hold of, at the reception of Monseigneur. Unbelieving -Philosophers who were remodelling the world with words, and making -card-towers of Babel to scale the skies with, talked with Unbelieving -Chemists who had an eye on the transmutation of metals, at this -wonderful gathering accumulated by Monseigneur. Exquisite gentlemen of -the finest breeding, which was at that remarkable time--and has been -since--to be known by its fruits of indifference to every natural -subject of human interest, were in the most exemplary state of -exhaustion, at the hotel of Monseigneur. Such homes had these various -notabilities left behind them in the fine world of Paris, that the spies -among the assembled devotees of Monseigneur--forming a goodly half -of the polite company--would have found it hard to discover among -the angels of that sphere one solitary wife, who, in her manners and -appearance, owned to being a Mother. Indeed, except for the mere act of -bringing a troublesome creature into this world--which does not go far -towards the realisation of the name of mother--there was no such thing -known to the fashion. Peasant women kept the unfashionable babies close, -and brought them up, and charming grandmammas of sixty dressed and -supped as at twenty. - -The leprosy of unreality disfigured every human creature in attendance -upon Monseigneur. In the outermost room were half a dozen exceptional -people who had had, for a few years, some vague misgiving in them that -things in general were going rather wrong. As a promising way of setting -them right, half of the half-dozen had become members of a fantastic -sect of Convulsionists, and were even then considering within themselves -whether they should foam, rage, roar, and turn cataleptic on the -spot--thereby setting up a highly intelligible finger-post to the -Future, for Monseigneur's guidance. Besides these Dervishes, were other -three who had rushed into another sect, which mended matters with a -jargon about "the Centre of Truth:" holding that Man had got out of the -Centre of Truth--which did not need much demonstration--but had not got -out of the Circumference, and that he was to be kept from flying out of -the Circumference, and was even to be shoved back into the Centre, -by fasting and seeing of spirits. Among these, accordingly, much -discoursing with spirits went on--and it did a world of good which never -became manifest. - -But, the comfort was, that all the company at the grand hotel of -Monseigneur were perfectly dressed. If the Day of Judgment had only been -ascertained to be a dress day, everybody there would have been eternally -correct. Such frizzling and powdering and sticking up of hair, such -delicate complexions artificially preserved and mended, such gallant -swords to look at, and such delicate honour to the sense of smell, would -surely keep anything going, for ever and ever. The exquisite gentlemen -of the finest breeding wore little pendent trinkets that chinked as they -languidly moved; these golden fetters rang like precious little bells; -and what with that ringing, and with the rustle of silk and brocade and -fine linen, there was a flutter in the air that fanned Saint Antoine and -his devouring hunger far away. - -Dress was the one unfailing talisman and charm used for keeping all -things in their places. Everybody was dressed for a Fancy Ball that -was never to leave off. From the Palace of the Tuileries, through -Monseigneur and the whole Court, through the Chambers, the Tribunals -of Justice, and all society (except the scarecrows), the Fancy Ball -descended to the Common Executioner: who, in pursuance of the charm, was -required to officiate "frizzled, powdered, in a gold-laced coat, pumps, -and white silk stockings." At the gallows and the wheel--the axe was a -rarity--Monsieur Paris, as it was the episcopal mode among his brother -Professors of the provinces, Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, to call -him, presided in this dainty dress. And who among the company at -Monseigneur's reception in that seventeen hundred and eightieth year -of our Lord, could possibly doubt, that a system rooted in a frizzled -hangman, powdered, gold-laced, pumped, and white-silk stockinged, would -see the very stars out! - -Monseigneur having eased his four men of their burdens and taken his -chocolate, caused the doors of the Holiest of Holiests to be thrown -open, and issued forth. Then, what submission, what cringing and -fawning, what servility, what abject humiliation! As to bowing down in -body and spirit, nothing in that way was left for Heaven--which may have -been one among other reasons why the worshippers of Monseigneur never -troubled it. - -Bestowing a word of promise here and a smile there, a whisper on one -happy slave and a wave of the hand on another, Monseigneur affably -passed through his rooms to the remote region of the Circumference of -Truth. There, Monseigneur turned, and came back again, and so in due -course of time got himself shut up in his sanctuary by the chocolate -sprites, and was seen no more. - -The show being over, the flutter in the air became quite a little storm, -and the precious little bells went ringing downstairs. There was soon -but one person left of all the crowd, and he, with his hat under his arm -and his snuff-box in his hand, slowly passed among the mirrors on his -way out. - -"I devote you," said this person, stopping at the last door on his way, -and turning in the direction of the sanctuary, "to the Devil!" - -With that, he shook the snuff from his fingers as if he had shaken the -dust from his feet, and quietly walked downstairs. - -He was a man of about sixty, handsomely dressed, haughty in manner, and -with a face like a fine mask. A face of a transparent paleness; every -feature in it clearly defined; one set expression on it. The nose, -beautifully formed otherwise, was very slightly pinched at the top -of each nostril. In those two compressions, or dints, the only little -change that the face ever showed, resided. They persisted in changing -colour sometimes, and they would be occasionally dilated and contracted -by something like a faint pulsation; then, they gave a look of -treachery, and cruelty, to the whole countenance. Examined with -attention, its capacity of helping such a look was to be found in the -line of the mouth, and the lines of the orbits of the eyes, being much -too horizontal and thin; still, in the effect of the face made, it was a -handsome face, and a remarkable one. - -Its owner went downstairs into the courtyard, got into his carriage, and -drove away. Not many people had talked with him at the reception; he had -stood in a little space apart, and Monseigneur might have been warmer -in his manner. It appeared, under the circumstances, rather agreeable -to him to see the common people dispersed before his horses, and -often barely escaping from being run down. His man drove as if he were -charging an enemy, and the furious recklessness of the man brought no -check into the face, or to the lips, of the master. The complaint had -sometimes made itself audible, even in that deaf city and dumb age, -that, in the narrow streets without footways, the fierce patrician -custom of hard driving endangered and maimed the mere vulgar in a -barbarous manner. But, few cared enough for that to think of it a second -time, and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretches were -left to get out of their difficulties as they could. - -With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of -consideration not easy to be understood in these days, the carriage -dashed through streets and swept round corners, with women screaming -before it, and men clutching each other and clutching children out of -its way. At last, swooping at a street corner by a fountain, one of its -wheels came to a sickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a -number of voices, and the horses reared and plunged. - -But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably would not have -stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, and leave their wounded -behind, and why not? But the frightened valet had got down in a hurry, -and there were twenty hands at the horses' bridles. - -"What has gone wrong?" said Monsieur, calmly looking out. - -A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from among the feet of -the horses, and had laid it on the basement of the fountain, and was -down in the mud and wet, howling over it like a wild animal. - -"Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!" said a ragged and submissive man, "it is -a child." - -"Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his child?" - -"Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis--it is a pity--yes." - -The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened, where it was, -into a space some ten or twelve yards square. As the tall man suddenly -got up from the ground, and came running at the carriage, Monsieur the -Marquis clapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt. - -"Killed!" shrieked the man, in wild desperation, extending both arms at -their length above his head, and staring at him. "Dead!" - -The people closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis. There was -nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at him but watchfulness -and eagerness; there was no visible menacing or anger. Neither did the -people say anything; after the first cry, they had been silent, and they -remained so. The voice of the submissive man who had spoken, was flat -and tame in its extreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes -over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their holes. - -He took out his purse. - -"It is extraordinary to me," said he, "that you people cannot take care -of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you is for ever in -the way. How do I know what injury you have done my horses. See! Give -him that." - -He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads -craned forward that all the eyes might look down at it as it fell. The -tall man called out again with a most unearthly cry, "Dead!" - -He was arrested by the quick arrival of another man, for whom the rest -made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fell upon his shoulder, -sobbing and crying, and pointing to the fountain, where some women were -stooping over the motionless bundle, and moving gently about it. They -were as silent, however, as the men. - -"I know all, I know all," said the last comer. "Be a brave man, my -Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than to -live. It has died in a moment without pain. Could it have lived an hour -as happily?" - -"You are a philosopher, you there," said the Marquis, smiling. "How do -they call you?" - -"They call me Defarge." - -"Of what trade?" - -"Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine." - -"Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of wine," said the Marquis, -throwing him another gold coin, "and spend it as you will. The horses -there; are they right?" - -Without deigning to look at the assemblage a second time, Monsieur the -Marquis leaned back in his seat, and was just being driven away with the -air of a gentleman who had accidentally broke some common thing, and had -paid for it, and could afford to pay for it; when his ease was suddenly -disturbed by a coin flying into his carriage, and ringing on its floor. - -"Hold!" said Monsieur the Marquis. "Hold the horses! Who threw that?" - -He looked to the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine had stood, a -moment before; but the wretched father was grovelling on his face on -the pavement in that spot, and the figure that stood beside him was the -figure of a dark stout woman, knitting. - -"You dogs!" said the Marquis, but smoothly, and with an unchanged front, -except as to the spots on his nose: "I would ride over any of you very -willingly, and exterminate you from the earth. If I knew which rascal -threw at the carriage, and if that brigand were sufficiently near it, he -should be crushed under the wheels." - -So cowed was their condition, and so long and hard their experience of -what such a man could do to them, within the law and beyond it, that not -a voice, or a hand, or even an eye was raised. Among the men, not one. -But the woman who stood knitting looked up steadily, and looked the -Marquis in the face. It was not for his dignity to notice it; his -contemptuous eyes passed over her, and over all the other rats; and he -leaned back in his seat again, and gave the word "Go on!" - -He was driven on, and other carriages came whirling by in quick -succession; the Minister, the State-Projector, the Farmer-General, the -Doctor, the Lawyer, the Ecclesiastic, the Grand Opera, the Comedy, the -whole Fancy Ball in a bright continuous flow, came whirling by. The rats -had crept out of their holes to look on, and they remained looking -on for hours; soldiers and police often passing between them and the -spectacle, and making a barrier behind which they slunk, and through -which they peeped. The father had long ago taken up his bundle and -bidden himself away with it, when the women who had tended the bundle -while it lay on the base of the fountain, sat there watching the running -of the water and the rolling of the Fancy Ball--when the one woman who -had stood conspicuous, knitting, still knitted on with the steadfastness -of Fate. The water of the fountain ran, the swift river ran, the day ran -into evening, so much life in the city ran into death according to rule, -time and tide waited for no man, the rats were sleeping close together -in their dark holes again, the Fancy Ball was lighted up at supper, all -things ran their course. - - - - -VIII. Monseigneur in the Country - - -A beautiful landscape, with the corn bright in it, but not abundant. -Patches of poor rye where corn should have been, patches of poor peas -and beans, patches of most coarse vegetable substitutes for wheat. On -inanimate nature, as on the men and women who cultivated it, a prevalent -tendency towards an appearance of vegetating unwillingly--a dejected -disposition to give up, and wither away. - -Monsieur the Marquis in his travelling carriage (which might have been -lighter), conducted by four post-horses and two postilions, fagged up -a steep hill. A blush on the countenance of Monsieur the Marquis was -no impeachment of his high breeding; it was not from within; it was -occasioned by an external circumstance beyond his control--the setting -sun. - -The sunset struck so brilliantly into the travelling carriage when it -gained the hill-top, that its occupant was steeped in crimson. "It will -die out," said Monsieur the Marquis, glancing at his hands, "directly." - -In effect, the sun was so low that it dipped at the moment. When the -heavy drag had been adjusted to the wheel, and the carriage slid down -hill, with a cinderous smell, in a cloud of dust, the red glow departed -quickly; the sun and the Marquis going down together, there was no glow -left when the drag was taken off. - -But, there remained a broken country, bold and open, a little village -at the bottom of the hill, a broad sweep and rise beyond it, a -church-tower, a windmill, a forest for the chase, and a crag with a -fortress on it used as a prison. Round upon all these darkening objects -as the night drew on, the Marquis looked, with the air of one who was -coming near home. - -The village had its one poor street, with its poor brewery, poor -tannery, poor tavern, poor stable-yard for relays of post-horses, poor -fountain, all usual poor appointments. It had its poor people too. All -its people were poor, and many of them were sitting at their doors, -shredding spare onions and the like for supper, while many were at the -fountain, washing leaves, and grasses, and any such small yieldings of -the earth that could be eaten. Expressive signs of what made them poor, -were not wanting; the tax for the state, the tax for the church, the tax -for the lord, tax local and tax general, were to be paid here and to be -paid there, according to solemn inscription in the little village, until -the wonder was, that there was any village left unswallowed. - -Few children were to be seen, and no dogs. As to the men and women, -their choice on earth was stated in the prospect--Life on the lowest -terms that could sustain it, down in the little village under the mill; -or captivity and Death in the dominant prison on the crag. - -Heralded by a courier in advance, and by the cracking of his postilions' -whips, which twined snake-like about their heads in the evening air, as -if he came attended by the Furies, Monsieur the Marquis drew up in -his travelling carriage at the posting-house gate. It was hard by the -fountain, and the peasants suspended their operations to look at him. -He looked at them, and saw in them, without knowing it, the slow -sure filing down of misery-worn face and figure, that was to make the -meagreness of Frenchmen an English superstition which should survive the -truth through the best part of a hundred years. - -Monsieur the Marquis cast his eyes over the submissive faces that -drooped before him, as the like of himself had drooped before -Monseigneur of the Court--only the difference was, that these faces -drooped merely to suffer and not to propitiate--when a grizzled mender -of the roads joined the group. - -"Bring me hither that fellow!" said the Marquis to the courier. - -The fellow was brought, cap in hand, and the other fellows closed round -to look and listen, in the manner of the people at the Paris fountain. - -"I passed you on the road?" - -"Monseigneur, it is true. I had the honour of being passed on the road." - -"Coming up the hill, and at the top of the hill, both?" - -"Monseigneur, it is true." - -"What did you look at, so fixedly?" - -"Monseigneur, I looked at the man." - -He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the -carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage. - -"What man, pig? And why look there?" - -"Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the chain of the shoe--the drag." - -"Who?" demanded the traveller. - -"Monseigneur, the man." - -"May the Devil carry away these idiots! How do you call the man? You -know all the men of this part of the country. Who was he?" - -"Your clemency, Monseigneur! He was not of this part of the country. Of -all the days of my life, I never saw him." - -"Swinging by the chain? To be suffocated?" - -"With your gracious permission, that was the wonder of it, Monseigneur. -His head hanging over--like this!" - -He turned himself sideways to the carriage, and leaned back, with his -face thrown up to the sky, and his head hanging down; then recovered -himself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow. - -"What was he like?" - -"Monseigneur, he was whiter than the miller. All covered with dust, -white as a spectre, tall as a spectre!" - -The picture produced an immense sensation in the little crowd; but all -eyes, without comparing notes with other eyes, looked at Monsieur -the Marquis. Perhaps, to observe whether he had any spectre on his -conscience. - -"Truly, you did well," said the Marquis, felicitously sensible that such -vermin were not to ruffle him, "to see a thief accompanying my carriage, -and not open that great mouth of yours. Bah! Put him aside, Monsieur -Gabelle!" - -Monsieur Gabelle was the Postmaster, and some other taxing functionary -united; he had come out with great obsequiousness to assist at this -examination, and had held the examined by the drapery of his arm in an -official manner. - -"Bah! Go aside!" said Monsieur Gabelle. - -"Lay hands on this stranger if he seeks to lodge in your village -to-night, and be sure that his business is honest, Gabelle." - -"Monseigneur, I am flattered to devote myself to your orders." - -"Did he run away, fellow?--where is that Accursed?" - -The accursed was already under the carriage with some half-dozen -particular friends, pointing out the chain with his blue cap. Some -half-dozen other particular friends promptly hauled him out, and -presented him breathless to Monsieur the Marquis. - -"Did the man run away, Dolt, when we stopped for the drag?" - -"Monseigneur, he precipitated himself over the hill-side, head first, as -a person plunges into the river." - -"See to it, Gabelle. Go on!" - -The half-dozen who were peering at the chain were still among the -wheels, like sheep; the wheels turned so suddenly that they were lucky -to save their skins and bones; they had very little else to save, or -they might not have been so fortunate. - -The burst with which the carriage started out of the village and up the -rise beyond, was soon checked by the steepness of the hill. Gradually, -it subsided to a foot pace, swinging and lumbering upward among the many -sweet scents of a summer night. The postilions, with a thousand gossamer -gnats circling about them in lieu of the Furies, quietly mended the -points to the lashes of their whips; the valet walked by the horses; the -courier was audible, trotting on ahead into the dull distance. - -At the steepest point of the hill there was a little burial-ground, -with a Cross and a new large figure of Our Saviour on it; it was a poor -figure in wood, done by some inexperienced rustic carver, but he had -studied the figure from the life--his own life, maybe--for it was -dreadfully spare and thin. - -To this distressful emblem of a great distress that had long been -growing worse, and was not at its worst, a woman was kneeling. She -turned her head as the carriage came up to her, rose quickly, and -presented herself at the carriage-door. - -"It is you, Monseigneur! Monseigneur, a petition." - -With an exclamation of impatience, but with his unchangeable face, -Monseigneur looked out. - -"How, then! What is it? Always petitions!" - -"Monseigneur. For the love of the great God! My husband, the forester." - -"What of your husband, the forester? Always the same with you people. He -cannot pay something?" - -"He has paid all, Monseigneur. He is dead." - -"Well! He is quiet. Can I restore him to you?" - -"Alas, no, Monseigneur! But he lies yonder, under a little heap of poor -grass." - -"Well?" - -"Monseigneur, there are so many little heaps of poor grass?" - -"Again, well?" - -She looked an old woman, but was young. Her manner was one of passionate -grief; by turns she clasped her veinous and knotted hands together -with wild energy, and laid one of them on the carriage-door--tenderly, -caressingly, as if it had been a human breast, and could be expected to -feel the appealing touch. - -"Monseigneur, hear me! Monseigneur, hear my petition! My husband died of -want; so many die of want; so many more will die of want." - -"Again, well? Can I feed them?" - -"Monseigneur, the good God knows; but I don't ask it. My petition is, -that a morsel of stone or wood, with my husband's name, may be placed -over him to show where he lies. Otherwise, the place will be quickly -forgotten, it will never be found when I am dead of the same malady, I -shall be laid under some other heap of poor grass. Monseigneur, they -are so many, they increase so fast, there is so much want. Monseigneur! -Monseigneur!" - -The valet had put her away from the door, the carriage had broken into -a brisk trot, the postilions had quickened the pace, she was left far -behind, and Monseigneur, again escorted by the Furies, was rapidly -diminishing the league or two of distance that remained between him and -his chateau. - -The sweet scents of the summer night rose all around him, and rose, as -the rain falls, impartially, on the dusty, ragged, and toil-worn group -at the fountain not far away; to whom the mender of roads, with the aid -of the blue cap without which he was nothing, still enlarged upon his -man like a spectre, as long as they could bear it. By degrees, as they -could bear no more, they dropped off one by one, and lights twinkled -in little casements; which lights, as the casements darkened, and more -stars came out, seemed to have shot up into the sky instead of having -been extinguished. - -The shadow of a large high-roofed house, and of many over-hanging trees, -was upon Monsieur the Marquis by that time; and the shadow was exchanged -for the light of a flambeau, as his carriage stopped, and the great door -of his chateau was opened to him. - -"Monsieur Charles, whom I expect; is he arrived from England?" - -"Monseigneur, not yet." - - - - -IX. The Gorgon's Head - - -It was a heavy mass of building, that chateau of Monsieur the Marquis, -with a large stone courtyard before it, and two stone sweeps of -staircase meeting in a stone terrace before the principal door. A stony -business altogether, with heavy stone balustrades, and stone urns, and -stone flowers, and stone faces of men, and stone heads of lions, in -all directions. As if the Gorgon's head had surveyed it, when it was -finished, two centuries ago. - -Up the broad flight of shallow steps, Monsieur the Marquis, flambeau -preceded, went from his carriage, sufficiently disturbing the darkness -to elicit loud remonstrance from an owl in the roof of the great pile -of stable building away among the trees. All else was so quiet, that the -flambeau carried up the steps, and the other flambeau held at the great -door, burnt as if they were in a close room of state, instead of being -in the open night-air. Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, -save the falling of a fountain into its stone basin; for, it was one of -those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together, and then -heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again. - -The great door clanged behind him, and Monsieur the Marquis crossed a -hall grim with certain old boar-spears, swords, and knives of the chase; -grimmer with certain heavy riding-rods and riding-whips, of which many a -peasant, gone to his benefactor Death, had felt the weight when his lord -was angry. - -Avoiding the larger rooms, which were dark and made fast for the night, -Monsieur the Marquis, with his flambeau-bearer going on before, went up -the staircase to a door in a corridor. This thrown open, admitted him -to his own private apartment of three rooms: his bed-chamber and two -others. High vaulted rooms with cool uncarpeted floors, great dogs upon -the hearths for the burning of wood in winter time, and all luxuries -befitting the state of a marquis in a luxurious age and country. -The fashion of the last Louis but one, of the line that was never to -break--the fourteenth Louis--was conspicuous in their rich furniture; -but, it was diversified by many objects that were illustrations of old -pages in the history of France. - -A supper-table was laid for two, in the third of the rooms; a round -room, in one of the chateau's four extinguisher-topped towers. A small -lofty room, with its window wide open, and the wooden jalousie-blinds -closed, so that the dark night only showed in slight horizontal lines of -black, alternating with their broad lines of stone colour. - -"My nephew," said the Marquis, glancing at the supper preparation; "they -said he was not arrived." - -Nor was he; but, he had been expected with Monseigneur. - -"Ah! It is not probable he will arrive to-night; nevertheless, leave the -table as it is. I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour." - -In a quarter of an hour Monseigneur was ready, and sat down alone to his -sumptuous and choice supper. His chair was opposite to the window, and -he had taken his soup, and was raising his glass of Bordeaux to his -lips, when he put it down. - -"What is that?" he calmly asked, looking with attention at the -horizontal lines of black and stone colour. - -"Monseigneur? That?" - -"Outside the blinds. Open the blinds." - -It was done. - -"Well?" - -"Monseigneur, it is nothing. The trees and the night are all that are -here." - -The servant who spoke, had thrown the blinds wide, had looked out into -the vacant darkness, and stood with that blank behind him, looking round -for instructions. - -"Good," said the imperturbable master. "Close them again." - -That was done too, and the Marquis went on with his supper. He was -half way through it, when he again stopped with his glass in his hand, -hearing the sound of wheels. It came on briskly, and came up to the -front of the chateau. - -"Ask who is arrived." - -It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had been some few leagues behind -Monseigneur, early in the afternoon. He had diminished the distance -rapidly, but not so rapidly as to come up with Monseigneur on the road. -He had heard of Monseigneur, at the posting-houses, as being before him. - -He was to be told (said Monseigneur) that supper awaited him then and -there, and that he was prayed to come to it. In a little while he came. -He had been known in England as Charles Darnay. - -Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner, but they did not shake -hands. - -"You left Paris yesterday, sir?" he said to Monseigneur, as he took his -seat at table. - -"Yesterday. And you?" - -"I come direct." - -"From London?" - -"Yes." - -"You have been a long time coming," said the Marquis, with a smile. - -"On the contrary; I come direct." - -"Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the journey; a long time -intending the journey." - -"I have been detained by"--the nephew stopped a moment in his -answer--"various business." - -"Without doubt," said the polished uncle. - -So long as a servant was present, no other words passed between them. -When coffee had been served and they were alone together, the nephew, -looking at the uncle and meeting the eyes of the face that was like a -fine mask, opened a conversation. - -"I have come back, sir, as you anticipate, pursuing the object that -took me away. It carried me into great and unexpected peril; but it is -a sacred object, and if it had carried me to death I hope it would have -sustained me." - -"Not to death," said the uncle; "it is not necessary to say, to death." - -"I doubt, sir," returned the nephew, "whether, if it had carried me to -the utmost brink of death, you would have cared to stop me there." - -The deepened marks in the nose, and the lengthening of the fine straight -lines in the cruel face, looked ominous as to that; the uncle made a -graceful gesture of protest, which was so clearly a slight form of good -breeding that it was not reassuring. - -"Indeed, sir," pursued the nephew, "for anything I know, you may have -expressly worked to give a more suspicious appearance to the suspicious -circumstances that surrounded me." - -"No, no, no," said the uncle, pleasantly. - -"But, however that may be," resumed the nephew, glancing at him with -deep distrust, "I know that your diplomacy would stop me by any means, -and would know no scruple as to means." - -"My friend, I told you so," said the uncle, with a fine pulsation in the -two marks. "Do me the favour to recall that I told you so, long ago." - -"I recall it." - -"Thank you," said the Marquis--very sweetly indeed. - -His tone lingered in the air, almost like the tone of a musical -instrument. - -"In effect, sir," pursued the nephew, "I believe it to be at once your -bad fortune, and my good fortune, that has kept me out of a prison in -France here." - -"I do not quite understand," returned the uncle, sipping his coffee. -"Dare I ask you to explain?" - -"I believe that if you were not in disgrace with the Court, and had not -been overshadowed by that cloud for years past, a letter de cachet would -have sent me to some fortress indefinitely." - -"It is possible," said the uncle, with great calmness. "For the honour -of the family, I could even resolve to incommode you to that extent. -Pray excuse me!" - -"I perceive that, happily for me, the Reception of the day before -yesterday was, as usual, a cold one," observed the nephew. - -"I would not say happily, my friend," returned the uncle, with refined -politeness; "I would not be sure of that. A good opportunity for -consideration, surrounded by the advantages of solitude, might influence -your destiny to far greater advantage than you influence it for -yourself. But it is useless to discuss the question. I am, as you say, -at a disadvantage. These little instruments of correction, these gentle -aids to the power and honour of families, these slight favours that -might so incommode you, are only to be obtained now by interest -and importunity. They are sought by so many, and they are granted -(comparatively) to so few! It used not to be so, but France in all such -things is changed for the worse. Our not remote ancestors held the right -of life and death over the surrounding vulgar. From this room, many such -dogs have been taken out to be hanged; in the next room (my bedroom), -one fellow, to our knowledge, was poniarded on the spot for professing -some insolent delicacy respecting his daughter--_his_ daughter? We have -lost many privileges; a new philosophy has become the mode; and the -assertion of our station, in these days, might (I do not go so far as -to say would, but might) cause us real inconvenience. All very bad, very -bad!" - -The Marquis took a gentle little pinch of snuff, and shook his head; -as elegantly despondent as he could becomingly be of a country still -containing himself, that great means of regeneration. - -"We have so asserted our station, both in the old time and in the modern -time also," said the nephew, gloomily, "that I believe our name to be -more detested than any name in France." - -"Let us hope so," said the uncle. "Detestation of the high is the -involuntary homage of the low." - -"There is not," pursued the nephew, in his former tone, "a face I can -look at, in all this country round about us, which looks at me with any -deference on it but the dark deference of fear and slavery." - -"A compliment," said the Marquis, "to the grandeur of the family, -merited by the manner in which the family has sustained its grandeur. -Hah!" And he took another gentle little pinch of snuff, and lightly -crossed his legs. - -But, when his nephew, leaning an elbow on the table, covered his eyes -thoughtfully and dejectedly with his hand, the fine mask looked at -him sideways with a stronger concentration of keenness, closeness, -and dislike, than was comportable with its wearer's assumption of -indifference. - -"Repression is the only lasting philosophy. The dark deference of fear -and slavery, my friend," observed the Marquis, "will keep the dogs -obedient to the whip, as long as this roof," looking up to it, "shuts -out the sky." - -That might not be so long as the Marquis supposed. If a picture of the -chateau as it was to be a very few years hence, and of fifty like it as -they too were to be a very few years hence, could have been shown to -him that night, he might have been at a loss to claim his own from -the ghastly, fire-charred, plunder-wrecked rains. As for the roof -he vaunted, he might have found _that_ shutting out the sky in a new -way--to wit, for ever, from the eyes of the bodies into which its lead -was fired, out of the barrels of a hundred thousand muskets. - -"Meanwhile," said the Marquis, "I will preserve the honour and repose -of the family, if you will not. But you must be fatigued. Shall we -terminate our conference for the night?" - -"A moment more." - -"An hour, if you please." - -"Sir," said the nephew, "we have done wrong, and are reaping the fruits -of wrong." - -"_We_ have done wrong?" repeated the Marquis, with an inquiring smile, -and delicately pointing, first to his nephew, then to himself. - -"Our family; our honourable family, whose honour is of so much account -to both of us, in such different ways. Even in my father's time, we did -a world of wrong, injuring every human creature who came between us and -our pleasure, whatever it was. Why need I speak of my father's time, -when it is equally yours? Can I separate my father's twin-brother, joint -inheritor, and next successor, from himself?" - -"Death has done that!" said the Marquis. - -"And has left me," answered the nephew, "bound to a system that is -frightful to me, responsible for it, but powerless in it; seeking to -execute the last request of my dear mother's lips, and obey the last -look of my dear mother's eyes, which implored me to have mercy and to -redress; and tortured by seeking assistance and power in vain." - -"Seeking them from me, my nephew," said the Marquis, touching him on the -breast with his forefinger--they were now standing by the hearth--"you -will for ever seek them in vain, be assured." - -Every fine straight line in the clear whiteness of his face, was -cruelly, craftily, and closely compressed, while he stood looking -quietly at his nephew, with his snuff-box in his hand. Once again he -touched him on the breast, as though his finger were the fine point of -a small sword, with which, in delicate finesse, he ran him through the -body, and said, - -"My friend, I will die, perpetuating the system under which I have -lived." - -When he had said it, he took a culminating pinch of snuff, and put his -box in his pocket. - -"Better to be a rational creature," he added then, after ringing a small -bell on the table, "and accept your natural destiny. But you are lost, -Monsieur Charles, I see." - -"This property and France are lost to me," said the nephew, sadly; "I -renounce them." - -"Are they both yours to renounce? France may be, but is the property? It -is scarcely worth mentioning; but, is it yet?" - -"I had no intention, in the words I used, to claim it yet. If it passed -to me from you, to-morrow--" - -"Which I have the vanity to hope is not probable." - -"--or twenty years hence--" - -"You do me too much honour," said the Marquis; "still, I prefer that -supposition." - -"--I would abandon it, and live otherwise and elsewhere. It is little to -relinquish. What is it but a wilderness of misery and ruin!" - -"Hah!" said the Marquis, glancing round the luxurious room. - -"To the eye it is fair enough, here; but seen in its integrity, -under the sky, and by the daylight, it is a crumbling tower of waste, -mismanagement, extortion, debt, mortgage, oppression, hunger, nakedness, -and suffering." - -"Hah!" said the Marquis again, in a well-satisfied manner. - -"If it ever becomes mine, it shall be put into some hands better -qualified to free it slowly (if such a thing is possible) from the -weight that drags it down, so that the miserable people who cannot leave -it and who have been long wrung to the last point of endurance, may, in -another generation, suffer less; but it is not for me. There is a curse -on it, and on all this land." - -"And you?" said the uncle. "Forgive my curiosity; do you, under your new -philosophy, graciously intend to live?" - -"I must do, to live, what others of my countrymen, even with nobility at -their backs, may have to do some day--work." - -"In England, for example?" - -"Yes. The family honour, sir, is safe from me in this country. The -family name can suffer from me in no other, for I bear it in no other." - -The ringing of the bell had caused the adjoining bed-chamber to be -lighted. It now shone brightly, through the door of communication. The -Marquis looked that way, and listened for the retreating step of his -valet. - -"England is very attractive to you, seeing how indifferently you have -prospered there," he observed then, turning his calm face to his nephew -with a smile. - -"I have already said, that for my prospering there, I am sensible I may -be indebted to you, sir. For the rest, it is my Refuge." - -"They say, those boastful English, that it is the Refuge of many. You -know a compatriot who has found a Refuge there? A Doctor?" - -"Yes." - -"With a daughter?" - -"Yes." - -"Yes," said the Marquis. "You are fatigued. Good night!" - -As he bent his head in his most courtly manner, there was a secrecy -in his smiling face, and he conveyed an air of mystery to those words, -which struck the eyes and ears of his nephew forcibly. At the same -time, the thin straight lines of the setting of the eyes, and the thin -straight lips, and the markings in the nose, curved with a sarcasm that -looked handsomely diabolic. - -"Yes," repeated the Marquis. "A Doctor with a daughter. Yes. So -commences the new philosophy! You are fatigued. Good night!" - -It would have been of as much avail to interrogate any stone face -outside the chateau as to interrogate that face of his. The nephew -looked at him, in vain, in passing on to the door. - -"Good night!" said the uncle. "I look to the pleasure of seeing you -again in the morning. Good repose! Light Monsieur my nephew to his -chamber there!--And burn Monsieur my nephew in his bed, if you will," he -added to himself, before he rang his little bell again, and summoned his -valet to his own bedroom. - -The valet come and gone, Monsieur the Marquis walked to and fro in his -loose chamber-robe, to prepare himself gently for sleep, that hot still -night. Rustling about the room, his softly-slippered feet making no -noise on the floor, he moved like a refined tiger:--looked like some -enchanted marquis of the impenitently wicked sort, in story, whose -periodical change into tiger form was either just going off, or just -coming on. - -He moved from end to end of his voluptuous bedroom, looking again at the -scraps of the day's journey that came unbidden into his mind; the slow -toil up the hill at sunset, the setting sun, the descent, the mill, the -prison on the crag, the little village in the hollow, the peasants at -the fountain, and the mender of roads with his blue cap pointing out the -chain under the carriage. That fountain suggested the Paris fountain, -the little bundle lying on the step, the women bending over it, and the -tall man with his arms up, crying, "Dead!" - -"I am cool now," said Monsieur the Marquis, "and may go to bed." - -So, leaving only one light burning on the large hearth, he let his thin -gauze curtains fall around him, and heard the night break its silence -with a long sigh as he composed himself to sleep. - -The stone faces on the outer walls stared blindly at the black night -for three heavy hours; for three heavy hours, the horses in the stables -rattled at their racks, the dogs barked, and the owl made a noise with -very little resemblance in it to the noise conventionally assigned to -the owl by men-poets. But it is the obstinate custom of such creatures -hardly ever to say what is set down for them. - -For three heavy hours, the stone faces of the chateau, lion and human, -stared blindly at the night. Dead darkness lay on all the landscape, -dead darkness added its own hush to the hushing dust on all the roads. -The burial-place had got to the pass that its little heaps of poor grass -were undistinguishable from one another; the figure on the Cross might -have come down, for anything that could be seen of it. In the village, -taxers and taxed were fast asleep. Dreaming, perhaps, of banquets, as -the starved usually do, and of ease and rest, as the driven slave and -the yoked ox may, its lean inhabitants slept soundly, and were fed and -freed. - -The fountain in the village flowed unseen and unheard, and the fountain -at the chateau dropped unseen and unheard--both melting away, like the -minutes that were falling from the spring of Time--through three dark -hours. Then, the grey water of both began to be ghostly in the light, -and the eyes of the stone faces of the chateau were opened. - -Lighter and lighter, until at last the sun touched the tops of the still -trees, and poured its radiance over the hill. In the glow, the water -of the chateau fountain seemed to turn to blood, and the stone faces -crimsoned. The carol of the birds was loud and high, and, on the -weather-beaten sill of the great window of the bed-chamber of Monsieur -the Marquis, one little bird sang its sweetest song with all its might. -At this, the nearest stone face seemed to stare amazed, and, with open -mouth and dropped under-jaw, looked awe-stricken. - -Now, the sun was full up, and movement began in the village. Casement -windows opened, crazy doors were unbarred, and people came forth -shivering--chilled, as yet, by the new sweet air. Then began the rarely -lightened toil of the day among the village population. Some, to the -fountain; some, to the fields; men and women here, to dig and delve; men -and women there, to see to the poor live stock, and lead the bony cows -out, to such pasture as could be found by the roadside. In the church -and at the Cross, a kneeling figure or two; attendant on the latter -prayers, the led cow, trying for a breakfast among the weeds at its -foot. - -The chateau awoke later, as became its quality, but awoke gradually and -surely. First, the lonely boar-spears and knives of the chase had been -reddened as of old; then, had gleamed trenchant in the morning sunshine; -now, doors and windows were thrown open, horses in their stables looked -round over their shoulders at the light and freshness pouring in at -doorways, leaves sparkled and rustled at iron-grated windows, dogs -pulled hard at their chains, and reared impatient to be loosed. - -All these trivial incidents belonged to the routine of life, and the -return of morning. Surely, not so the ringing of the great bell of the -chateau, nor the running up and down the stairs; nor the hurried -figures on the terrace; nor the booting and tramping here and there and -everywhere, nor the quick saddling of horses and riding away? - -What winds conveyed this hurry to the grizzled mender of roads, already -at work on the hill-top beyond the village, with his day's dinner (not -much to carry) lying in a bundle that it was worth no crow's while to -peck at, on a heap of stones? Had the birds, carrying some grains of it -to a distance, dropped one over him as they sow chance seeds? Whether or -no, the mender of roads ran, on the sultry morning, as if for his life, -down the hill, knee-high in dust, and never stopped till he got to the -fountain. - -All the people of the village were at the fountain, standing about -in their depressed manner, and whispering low, but showing no other -emotions than grim curiosity and surprise. The led cows, hastily brought -in and tethered to anything that would hold them, were looking stupidly -on, or lying down chewing the cud of nothing particularly repaying their -trouble, which they had picked up in their interrupted saunter. Some of -the people of the chateau, and some of those of the posting-house, and -all the taxing authorities, were armed more or less, and were crowded -on the other side of the little street in a purposeless way, that was -highly fraught with nothing. Already, the mender of roads had penetrated -into the midst of a group of fifty particular friends, and was smiting -himself in the breast with his blue cap. What did all this portend, -and what portended the swift hoisting-up of Monsieur Gabelle behind -a servant on horseback, and the conveying away of the said Gabelle -(double-laden though the horse was), at a gallop, like a new version of -the German ballad of Leonora? - -It portended that there was one stone face too many, up at the chateau. - -The Gorgon had surveyed the building again in the night, and had added -the one stone face wanting; the stone face for which it had waited -through about two hundred years. - -It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur the Marquis. It was like a fine -mask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified. Driven home into the -heart of the stone figure attached to it, was a knife. Round its hilt -was a frill of paper, on which was scrawled: - -"Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from Jacques." - - - - -X. Two Promises - - -More months, to the number of twelve, had come and gone, and Mr. Charles -Darnay was established in England as a higher teacher of the French -language who was conversant with French literature. In this age, he -would have been a Professor; in that age, he was a Tutor. He read with -young men who could find any leisure and interest for the study of a -living tongue spoken all over the world, and he cultivated a taste for -its stores of knowledge and fancy. He could write of them, besides, in -sound English, and render them into sound English. Such masters were not -at that time easily found; Princes that had been, and Kings that were -to be, were not yet of the Teacher class, and no ruined nobility had -dropped out of Tellson's ledgers, to turn cooks and carpenters. As a -tutor, whose attainments made the student's way unusually pleasant and -profitable, and as an elegant translator who brought something to his -work besides mere dictionary knowledge, young Mr. Darnay soon became -known and encouraged. He was well acquainted, more-over, with the -circumstances of his country, and those were of ever-growing interest. -So, with great perseverance and untiring industry, he prospered. - -In London, he had expected neither to walk on pavements of gold, nor -to lie on beds of roses; if he had had any such exalted expectation, he -would not have prospered. He had expected labour, and he found it, and -did it and made the best of it. In this, his prosperity consisted. - -A certain portion of his time was passed at Cambridge, where he -read with undergraduates as a sort of tolerated smuggler who drove a -contraband trade in European languages, instead of conveying Greek -and Latin through the Custom-house. The rest of his time he passed in -London. - -Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these days -when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has -invariably gone one way--Charles Darnay's way--the way of the love of a -woman. - -He had loved Lucie Manette from the hour of his danger. He had never -heard a sound so sweet and dear as the sound of her compassionate voice; -he had never seen a face so tenderly beautiful, as hers when it was -confronted with his own on the edge of the grave that had been dug for -him. But, he had not yet spoken to her on the subject; the assassination -at the deserted chateau far away beyond the heaving water and the long, -long, dusty roads--the solid stone chateau which had itself become the -mere mist of a dream--had been done a year, and he had never yet, by so -much as a single spoken word, disclosed to her the state of his heart. - -That he had his reasons for this, he knew full well. It was again a -summer day when, lately arrived in London from his college occupation, -he turned into the quiet corner in Soho, bent on seeking an opportunity -of opening his mind to Doctor Manette. It was the close of the summer -day, and he knew Lucie to be out with Miss Pross. - -He found the Doctor reading in his arm-chair at a window. The energy -which had at once supported him under his old sufferings and aggravated -their sharpness, had been gradually restored to him. He was now a -very energetic man indeed, with great firmness of purpose, strength -of resolution, and vigour of action. In his recovered energy he was -sometimes a little fitful and sudden, as he had at first been in the -exercise of his other recovered faculties; but, this had never been -frequently observable, and had grown more and more rare. - -He studied much, slept little, sustained a great deal of fatigue with -ease, and was equably cheerful. To him, now entered Charles Darnay, at -sight of whom he laid aside his book and held out his hand. - -"Charles Darnay! I rejoice to see you. We have been counting on your -return these three or four days past. Mr. Stryver and Sydney Carton were -both here yesterday, and both made you out to be more than due." - -"I am obliged to them for their interest in the matter," he answered, -a little coldly as to them, though very warmly as to the Doctor. "Miss -Manette--" - -"Is well," said the Doctor, as he stopped short, "and your return will -delight us all. She has gone out on some household matters, but will -soon be home." - -"Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the opportunity of her -being from home, to beg to speak to you." - -There was a blank silence. - -"Yes?" said the Doctor, with evident constraint. "Bring your chair here, -and speak on." - -He complied as to the chair, but appeared to find the speaking on less -easy. - -"I have had the happiness, Doctor Manette, of being so intimate here," -so he at length began, "for some year and a half, that I hope the topic -on which I am about to touch may not--" - -He was stayed by the Doctor's putting out his hand to stop him. When he -had kept it so a little while, he said, drawing it back: - -"Is Lucie the topic?" - -"She is." - -"It is hard for me to speak of her at any time. It is very hard for me -to hear her spoken of in that tone of yours, Charles Darnay." - -"It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love, Doctor -Manette!" he said deferentially. - -There was another blank silence before her father rejoined: - -"I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it." - -His constraint was so manifest, and it was so manifest, too, that it -originated in an unwillingness to approach the subject, that Charles -Darnay hesitated. - -"Shall I go on, sir?" - -Another blank. - -"Yes, go on." - -"You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly -I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my secret heart, and -the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it has long been -laden. Dear Doctor Manette, I love your daughter fondly, dearly, -disinterestedly, devotedly. If ever there were love in the world, I love -her. You have loved yourself; let your old love speak for me!" - -The Doctor sat with his face turned away, and his eyes bent on the -ground. At the last words, he stretched out his hand again, hurriedly, -and cried: - -"Not that, sir! Let that be! I adjure you, do not recall that!" - -His cry was so like a cry of actual pain, that it rang in Charles -Darnay's ears long after he had ceased. He motioned with the hand he had -extended, and it seemed to be an appeal to Darnay to pause. The latter -so received it, and remained silent. - -"I ask your pardon," said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, after some -moments. "I do not doubt your loving Lucie; you may be satisfied of it." - -He turned towards him in his chair, but did not look at him, or -raise his eyes. His chin dropped upon his hand, and his white hair -overshadowed his face: - -"Have you spoken to Lucie?" - -"No." - -"Nor written?" - -"Never." - -"It would be ungenerous to affect not to know that your self-denial is -to be referred to your consideration for her father. Her father thanks -you." - -He offered his hand; but his eyes did not go with it. - -"I know," said Darnay, respectfully, "how can I fail to know, Doctor -Manette, I who have seen you together from day to day, that between -you and Miss Manette there is an affection so unusual, so touching, so -belonging to the circumstances in which it has been nurtured, that it -can have few parallels, even in the tenderness between a father and -child. I know, Doctor Manette--how can I fail to know--that, mingled -with the affection and duty of a daughter who has become a woman, there -is, in her heart, towards you, all the love and reliance of infancy -itself. I know that, as in her childhood she had no parent, so she is -now devoted to you with all the constancy and fervour of her present -years and character, united to the trustfulness and attachment of the -early days in which you were lost to her. I know perfectly well that if -you had been restored to her from the world beyond this life, you could -hardly be invested, in her sight, with a more sacred character than that -in which you are always with her. I know that when she is clinging to -you, the hands of baby, girl, and woman, all in one, are round your -neck. I know that in loving you she sees and loves her mother at her -own age, sees and loves you at my age, loves her mother broken-hearted, -loves you through your dreadful trial and in your blessed restoration. I -have known this, night and day, since I have known you in your home." - -Her father sat silent, with his face bent down. His breathing was a -little quickened; but he repressed all other signs of agitation. - -"Dear Doctor Manette, always knowing this, always seeing her and you -with this hallowed light about you, I have forborne, and forborne, as -long as it was in the nature of man to do it. I have felt, and do even -now feel, that to bring my love--even mine--between you, is to touch -your history with something not quite so good as itself. But I love her. -Heaven is my witness that I love her!" - -"I believe it," answered her father, mournfully. "I have thought so -before now. I believe it." - -"But, do not believe," said Darnay, upon whose ear the mournful voice -struck with a reproachful sound, "that if my fortune were so cast as -that, being one day so happy as to make her my wife, I must at any time -put any separation between her and you, I could or would breathe a -word of what I now say. Besides that I should know it to be hopeless, I -should know it to be a baseness. If I had any such possibility, even at -a remote distance of years, harboured in my thoughts, and hidden in my -heart--if it ever had been there--if it ever could be there--I could not -now touch this honoured hand." - -He laid his own upon it as he spoke. - -"No, dear Doctor Manette. Like you, a voluntary exile from France; like -you, driven from it by its distractions, oppressions, and miseries; like -you, striving to live away from it by my own exertions, and trusting -in a happier future; I look only to sharing your fortunes, sharing your -life and home, and being faithful to you to the death. Not to divide -with Lucie her privilege as your child, companion, and friend; but to -come in aid of it, and bind her closer to you, if such a thing can be." - -His touch still lingered on her father's hand. Answering the touch for a -moment, but not coldly, her father rested his hands upon the arms of -his chair, and looked up for the first time since the beginning of the -conference. A struggle was evidently in his face; a struggle with that -occasional look which had a tendency in it to dark doubt and dread. - -"You speak so feelingly and so manfully, Charles Darnay, that I thank -you with all my heart, and will open all my heart--or nearly so. Have -you any reason to believe that Lucie loves you?" - -"None. As yet, none." - -"Is it the immediate object of this confidence, that you may at once -ascertain that, with my knowledge?" - -"Not even so. I might not have the hopefulness to do it for weeks; I -might (mistaken or not mistaken) have that hopefulness to-morrow." - -"Do you seek any guidance from me?" - -"I ask none, sir. But I have thought it possible that you might have it -in your power, if you should deem it right, to give me some." - -"Do you seek any promise from me?" - -"I do seek that." - -"What is it?" - -"I well understand that, without you, I could have no hope. I well -understand that, even if Miss Manette held me at this moment in her -innocent heart--do not think I have the presumption to assume so much--I -could retain no place in it against her love for her father." - -"If that be so, do you see what, on the other hand, is involved in it?" - -"I understand equally well, that a word from her father in any suitor's -favour, would outweigh herself and all the world. For which reason, -Doctor Manette," said Darnay, modestly but firmly, "I would not ask that -word, to save my life." - -"I am sure of it. Charles Darnay, mysteries arise out of close love, as -well as out of wide division; in the former case, they are subtle and -delicate, and difficult to penetrate. My daughter Lucie is, in this one -respect, such a mystery to me; I can make no guess at the state of her -heart." - -"May I ask, sir, if you think she is--" As he hesitated, her father -supplied the rest. - -"Is sought by any other suitor?" - -"It is what I meant to say." - -Her father considered a little before he answered: - -"You have seen Mr. Carton here, yourself. Mr. Stryver is here too, -occasionally. If it be at all, it can only be by one of these." - -"Or both," said Darnay. - -"I had not thought of both; I should not think either, likely. You want -a promise from me. Tell me what it is." - -"It is, that if Miss Manette should bring to you at any time, on her own -part, such a confidence as I have ventured to lay before you, you will -bear testimony to what I have said, and to your belief in it. I hope you -may be able to think so well of me, as to urge no influence against -me. I say nothing more of my stake in this; this is what I ask. The -condition on which I ask it, and which you have an undoubted right to -require, I will observe immediately." - -"I give the promise," said the Doctor, "without any condition. I believe -your object to be, purely and truthfully, as you have stated it. I -believe your intention is to perpetuate, and not to weaken, the ties -between me and my other and far dearer self. If she should ever tell me -that you are essential to her perfect happiness, I will give her to you. -If there were--Charles Darnay, if there were--" - -The young man had taken his hand gratefully; their hands were joined as -the Doctor spoke: - -"--any fancies, any reasons, any apprehensions, anything whatsoever, -new or old, against the man she really loved--the direct responsibility -thereof not lying on his head--they should all be obliterated for her -sake. She is everything to me; more to me than suffering, more to me -than wrong, more to me--Well! This is idle talk." - -So strange was the way in which he faded into silence, and so strange -his fixed look when he had ceased to speak, that Darnay felt his own -hand turn cold in the hand that slowly released and dropped it. - -"You said something to me," said Doctor Manette, breaking into a smile. -"What was it you said to me?" - -He was at a loss how to answer, until he remembered having spoken of a -condition. Relieved as his mind reverted to that, he answered: - -"Your confidence in me ought to be returned with full confidence on my -part. My present name, though but slightly changed from my mother's, is -not, as you will remember, my own. I wish to tell you what that is, and -why I am in England." - -"Stop!" said the Doctor of Beauvais. - -"I wish it, that I may the better deserve your confidence, and have no -secret from you." - -"Stop!" - -For an instant, the Doctor even had his two hands at his ears; for -another instant, even had his two hands laid on Darnay's lips. - -"Tell me when I ask you, not now. If your suit should prosper, if Lucie -should love you, you shall tell me on your marriage morning. Do you -promise?" - -"Willingly. - -"Give me your hand. She will be home directly, and it is better she -should not see us together to-night. Go! God bless you!" - -It was dark when Charles Darnay left him, and it was an hour later and -darker when Lucie came home; she hurried into the room alone--for -Miss Pross had gone straight up-stairs--and was surprised to find his -reading-chair empty. - -"My father!" she called to him. "Father dear!" - -Nothing was said in answer, but she heard a low hammering sound in his -bedroom. Passing lightly across the intermediate room, she looked in at -his door and came running back frightened, crying to herself, with her -blood all chilled, "What shall I do! What shall I do!" - -Her uncertainty lasted but a moment; she hurried back, and tapped at -his door, and softly called to him. The noise ceased at the sound of -her voice, and he presently came out to her, and they walked up and down -together for a long time. - -She came down from her bed, to look at him in his sleep that night. He -slept heavily, and his tray of shoemaking tools, and his old unfinished -work, were all as usual. - - - - -XI. A Companion Picture - - -"Sydney," said Mr. Stryver, on that self-same night, or morning, to his -jackal; "mix another bowl of punch; I have something to say to you." - -Sydney had been working double tides that night, and the night before, -and the night before that, and a good many nights in succession, making -a grand clearance among Mr. Stryver's papers before the setting in -of the long vacation. The clearance was effected at last; the Stryver -arrears were handsomely fetched up; everything was got rid of until -November should come with its fogs atmospheric, and fogs legal, and -bring grist to the mill again. - -Sydney was none the livelier and none the soberer for so much -application. It had taken a deal of extra wet-towelling to pull him -through the night; a correspondingly extra quantity of wine had preceded -the towelling; and he was in a very damaged condition, as he now pulled -his turban off and threw it into the basin in which he had steeped it at -intervals for the last six hours. - -"Are you mixing that other bowl of punch?" said Stryver the portly, with -his hands in his waistband, glancing round from the sofa where he lay on -his back. - -"I am." - -"Now, look here! I am going to tell you something that will rather -surprise you, and that perhaps will make you think me not quite as -shrewd as you usually do think me. I intend to marry." - -"_Do_ you?" - -"Yes. And not for money. What do you say now?" - -"I don't feel disposed to say much. Who is she?" - -"Guess." - -"Do I know her?" - -"Guess." - -"I am not going to guess, at five o'clock in the morning, with my brains -frying and sputtering in my head. If you want me to guess, you must ask -me to dinner." - -"Well then, I'll tell you," said Stryver, coming slowly into a sitting -posture. "Sydney, I rather despair of making myself intelligible to you, -because you are such an insensible dog." - -"And you," returned Sydney, busy concocting the punch, "are such a -sensitive and poetical spirit--" - -"Come!" rejoined Stryver, laughing boastfully, "though I don't prefer -any claim to being the soul of Romance (for I hope I know better), still -I am a tenderer sort of fellow than _you_." - -"You are a luckier, if you mean that." - -"I don't mean that. I mean I am a man of more--more--" - -"Say gallantry, while you are about it," suggested Carton. - -"Well! I'll say gallantry. My meaning is that I am a man," said Stryver, -inflating himself at his friend as he made the punch, "who cares more to -be agreeable, who takes more pains to be agreeable, who knows better how -to be agreeable, in a woman's society, than you do." - -"Go on," said Sydney Carton. - -"No; but before I go on," said Stryver, shaking his head in his bullying -way, "I'll have this out with you. You've been at Doctor Manette's house -as much as I have, or more than I have. Why, I have been ashamed of your -moroseness there! Your manners have been of that silent and sullen and -hangdog kind, that, upon my life and soul, I have been ashamed of you, -Sydney!" - -"It should be very beneficial to a man in your practice at the bar, to -be ashamed of anything," returned Sydney; "you ought to be much obliged -to me." - -"You shall not get off in that way," rejoined Stryver, shouldering the -rejoinder at him; "no, Sydney, it's my duty to tell you--and I tell you -to your face to do you good--that you are a devilish ill-conditioned -fellow in that sort of society. You are a disagreeable fellow." - -Sydney drank a bumper of the punch he had made, and laughed. - -"Look at me!" said Stryver, squaring himself; "I have less need to make -myself agreeable than you have, being more independent in circumstances. -Why do I do it?" - -"I never saw you do it yet," muttered Carton. - -"I do it because it's politic; I do it on principle. And look at me! I -get on." - -"You don't get on with your account of your matrimonial intentions," -answered Carton, with a careless air; "I wish you would keep to that. As -to me--will you never understand that I am incorrigible?" - -He asked the question with some appearance of scorn. - -"You have no business to be incorrigible," was his friend's answer, -delivered in no very soothing tone. - -"I have no business to be, at all, that I know of," said Sydney Carton. -"Who is the lady?" - -"Now, don't let my announcement of the name make you uncomfortable, -Sydney," said Mr. Stryver, preparing him with ostentatious friendliness -for the disclosure he was about to make, "because I know you don't mean -half you say; and if you meant it all, it would be of no importance. I -make this little preface, because you once mentioned the young lady to -me in slighting terms." - -"I did?" - -"Certainly; and in these chambers." - -Sydney Carton looked at his punch and looked at his complacent friend; -drank his punch and looked at his complacent friend. - -"You made mention of the young lady as a golden-haired doll. The young -lady is Miss Manette. If you had been a fellow of any sensitiveness or -delicacy of feeling in that kind of way, Sydney, I might have been a -little resentful of your employing such a designation; but you are not. -You want that sense altogether; therefore I am no more annoyed when I -think of the expression, than I should be annoyed by a man's opinion of -a picture of mine, who had no eye for pictures: or of a piece of music -of mine, who had no ear for music." - -Sydney Carton drank the punch at a great rate; drank it by bumpers, -looking at his friend. - -"Now you know all about it, Syd," said Mr. Stryver. "I don't care about -fortune: she is a charming creature, and I have made up my mind to -please myself: on the whole, I think I can afford to please myself. She -will have in me a man already pretty well off, and a rapidly rising man, -and a man of some distinction: it is a piece of good fortune for her, -but she is worthy of good fortune. Are you astonished?" - -Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, "Why should I be -astonished?" - -"You approve?" - -Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, "Why should I not approve?" - -"Well!" said his friend Stryver, "you take it more easily than I fancied -you would, and are less mercenary on my behalf than I thought you would -be; though, to be sure, you know well enough by this time that your -ancient chum is a man of a pretty strong will. Yes, Sydney, I have had -enough of this style of life, with no other as a change from it; I -feel that it is a pleasant thing for a man to have a home when he feels -inclined to go to it (when he doesn't, he can stay away), and I feel -that Miss Manette will tell well in any station, and will always do me -credit. So I have made up my mind. And now, Sydney, old boy, I want to -say a word to _you_ about _your_ prospects. You are in a bad way, you -know; you really are in a bad way. You don't know the value of money, -you live hard, you'll knock up one of these days, and be ill and poor; -you really ought to think about a nurse." - -The prosperous patronage with which he said it, made him look twice as -big as he was, and four times as offensive. - -"Now, let me recommend you," pursued Stryver, "to look it in the face. -I have looked it in the face, in my different way; look it in the face, -you, in your different way. Marry. Provide somebody to take care of -you. Never mind your having no enjoyment of women's society, nor -understanding of it, nor tact for it. Find out somebody. Find out some -respectable woman with a little property--somebody in the landlady way, -or lodging-letting way--and marry her, against a rainy day. That's the -kind of thing for _you_. Now think of it, Sydney." - -"I'll think of it," said Sydney. - - - - -XII. The Fellow of Delicacy - - -Mr. Stryver having made up his mind to that magnanimous bestowal of good -fortune on the Doctor's daughter, resolved to make her happiness known -to her before he left town for the Long Vacation. After some mental -debating of the point, he came to the conclusion that it would be as -well to get all the preliminaries done with, and they could then arrange -at their leisure whether he should give her his hand a week or two -before Michaelmas Term, or in the little Christmas vacation between it -and Hilary. - -As to the strength of his case, he had not a doubt about it, but clearly -saw his way to the verdict. Argued with the jury on substantial worldly -grounds--the only grounds ever worth taking into account--it was a -plain case, and had not a weak spot in it. He called himself for the -plaintiff, there was no getting over his evidence, the counsel for -the defendant threw up his brief, and the jury did not even turn to -consider. After trying it, Stryver, C. J., was satisfied that no plainer -case could be. - -Accordingly, Mr. Stryver inaugurated the Long Vacation with a formal -proposal to take Miss Manette to Vauxhall Gardens; that failing, to -Ranelagh; that unaccountably failing too, it behoved him to present -himself in Soho, and there declare his noble mind. - -Towards Soho, therefore, Mr. Stryver shouldered his way from the Temple, -while the bloom of the Long Vacation's infancy was still upon it. -Anybody who had seen him projecting himself into Soho while he was yet -on Saint Dunstan's side of Temple Bar, bursting in his full-blown way -along the pavement, to the jostlement of all weaker people, might have -seen how safe and strong he was. - -His way taking him past Tellson's, and he both banking at Tellson's and -knowing Mr. Lorry as the intimate friend of the Manettes, it entered Mr. -Stryver's mind to enter the bank, and reveal to Mr. Lorry the brightness -of the Soho horizon. So, he pushed open the door with the weak rattle -in its throat, stumbled down the two steps, got past the two ancient -cashiers, and shouldered himself into the musty back closet where Mr. -Lorry sat at great books ruled for figures, with perpendicular iron -bars to his window as if that were ruled for figures too, and everything -under the clouds were a sum. - -"Halloa!" said Mr. Stryver. "How do you do? I hope you are well!" - -It was Stryver's grand peculiarity that he always seemed too big for any -place, or space. He was so much too big for Tellson's, that old clerks -in distant corners looked up with looks of remonstrance, as though he -squeezed them against the wall. The House itself, magnificently reading -the paper quite in the far-off perspective, lowered displeased, as if -the Stryver head had been butted into its responsible waistcoat. - -The discreet Mr. Lorry said, in a sample tone of the voice he would -recommend under the circumstances, "How do you do, Mr. Stryver? How do -you do, sir?" and shook hands. There was a peculiarity in his manner -of shaking hands, always to be seen in any clerk at Tellson's who shook -hands with a customer when the House pervaded the air. He shook in a -self-abnegating way, as one who shook for Tellson and Co. - -"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?" asked Mr. Lorry, in his -business character. - -"Why, no, thank you; this is a private visit to yourself, Mr. Lorry; I -have come for a private word." - -"Oh indeed!" said Mr. Lorry, bending down his ear, while his eye strayed -to the House afar off. - -"I am going," said Mr. Stryver, leaning his arms confidentially on the -desk: whereupon, although it was a large double one, there appeared to -be not half desk enough for him: "I am going to make an offer of myself -in marriage to your agreeable little friend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry." - -"Oh dear me!" cried Mr. Lorry, rubbing his chin, and looking at his -visitor dubiously. - -"Oh dear me, sir?" repeated Stryver, drawing back. "Oh dear you, sir? -What may your meaning be, Mr. Lorry?" - -"My meaning," answered the man of business, "is, of course, friendly and -appreciative, and that it does you the greatest credit, and--in short, -my meaning is everything you could desire. But--really, you know, Mr. -Stryver--" Mr. Lorry paused, and shook his head at him in the oddest -manner, as if he were compelled against his will to add, internally, -"you know there really is so much too much of you!" - -"Well!" said Stryver, slapping the desk with his contentious hand, -opening his eyes wider, and taking a long breath, "if I understand you, -Mr. Lorry, I'll be hanged!" - -Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both ears as a means towards that -end, and bit the feather of a pen. - -"D--n it all, sir!" said Stryver, staring at him, "am I not eligible?" - -"Oh dear yes! Yes. Oh yes, you're eligible!" said Mr. Lorry. "If you say -eligible, you are eligible." - -"Am I not prosperous?" asked Stryver. - -"Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are prosperous," said Mr. Lorry. - -"And advancing?" - -"If you come to advancing you know," said Mr. Lorry, delighted to be -able to make another admission, "nobody can doubt that." - -"Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?" demanded Stryver, -perceptibly crestfallen. - -"Well! I--Were you going there now?" asked Mr. Lorry. - -"Straight!" said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on the desk. - -"Then I think I wouldn't, if I was you." - -"Why?" said Stryver. "Now, I'll put you in a corner," forensically -shaking a forefinger at him. "You are a man of business and bound to -have a reason. State your reason. Why wouldn't you go?" - -"Because," said Mr. Lorry, "I wouldn't go on such an object without -having some cause to believe that I should succeed." - -"D--n _me_!" cried Stryver, "but this beats everything." - -Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and glanced at the angry -Stryver. - -"Here's a man of business--a man of years--a man of experience--_in_ -a Bank," said Stryver; "and having summed up three leading reasons for -complete success, he says there's no reason at all! Says it with his -head on!" Mr. Stryver remarked upon the peculiarity as if it would have -been infinitely less remarkable if he had said it with his head off. - -"When I speak of success, I speak of success with the young lady; and -when I speak of causes and reasons to make success probable, I speak of -causes and reasons that will tell as such with the young lady. The young -lady, my good sir," said Mr. Lorry, mildly tapping the Stryver arm, "the -young lady. The young lady goes before all." - -"Then you mean to tell me, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver, squaring his -elbows, "that it is your deliberate opinion that the young lady at -present in question is a mincing Fool?" - -"Not exactly so. I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver," said Mr. Lorry, -reddening, "that I will hear no disrespectful word of that young lady -from any lips; and that if I knew any man--which I hope I do not--whose -taste was so coarse, and whose temper was so overbearing, that he could -not restrain himself from speaking disrespectfully of that young lady at -this desk, not even Tellson's should prevent my giving him a piece of my -mind." - -The necessity of being angry in a suppressed tone had put Mr. Stryver's -blood-vessels into a dangerous state when it was his turn to be angry; -Mr. Lorry's veins, methodical as their courses could usually be, were in -no better state now it was his turn. - -"That is what I mean to tell you, sir," said Mr. Lorry. "Pray let there -be no mistake about it." - -Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a little while, and then stood -hitting a tune out of his teeth with it, which probably gave him the -toothache. He broke the awkward silence by saying: - -"This is something new to me, Mr. Lorry. You deliberately advise me not -to go up to Soho and offer myself--_my_self, Stryver of the King's Bench -bar?" - -"Do you ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?" - -"Yes, I do." - -"Very good. Then I give it, and you have repeated it correctly." - -"And all I can say of it is," laughed Stryver with a vexed laugh, "that -this--ha, ha!--beats everything past, present, and to come." - -"Now understand me," pursued Mr. Lorry. "As a man of business, I am -not justified in saying anything about this matter, for, as a man of -business, I know nothing of it. But, as an old fellow, who has carried -Miss Manette in his arms, who is the trusted friend of Miss Manette and -of her father too, and who has a great affection for them both, I have -spoken. The confidence is not of my seeking, recollect. Now, you think I -may not be right?" - -"Not I!" said Stryver, whistling. "I can't undertake to find third -parties in common sense; I can only find it for myself. I suppose sense -in certain quarters; you suppose mincing bread-and-butter nonsense. It's -new to me, but you are right, I dare say." - -"What I suppose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to characterise for myself--And -understand me, sir," said Mr. Lorry, quickly flushing again, "I -will not--not even at Tellson's--have it characterised for me by any -gentleman breathing." - -"There! I beg your pardon!" said Stryver. - -"Granted. Thank you. Well, Mr. Stryver, I was about to say:--it might be -painful to you to find yourself mistaken, it might be painful to Doctor -Manette to have the task of being explicit with you, it might be very -painful to Miss Manette to have the task of being explicit with you. You -know the terms upon which I have the honour and happiness to stand with -the family. If you please, committing you in no way, representing you -in no way, I will undertake to correct my advice by the exercise of a -little new observation and judgment expressly brought to bear upon -it. If you should then be dissatisfied with it, you can but test its -soundness for yourself; if, on the other hand, you should be satisfied -with it, and it should be what it now is, it may spare all sides what is -best spared. What do you say?" - -"How long would you keep me in town?" - -"Oh! It is only a question of a few hours. I could go to Soho in the -evening, and come to your chambers afterwards." - -"Then I say yes," said Stryver: "I won't go up there now, I am not so -hot upon it as that comes to; I say yes, and I shall expect you to look -in to-night. Good morning." - -Then Mr. Stryver turned and burst out of the Bank, causing such a -concussion of air on his passage through, that to stand up against it -bowing behind the two counters, required the utmost remaining strength -of the two ancient clerks. Those venerable and feeble persons were -always seen by the public in the act of bowing, and were popularly -believed, when they had bowed a customer out, still to keep on bowing in -the empty office until they bowed another customer in. - -The barrister was keen enough to divine that the banker would not have -gone so far in his expression of opinion on any less solid ground than -moral certainty. Unprepared as he was for the large pill he had to -swallow, he got it down. "And now," said Mr. Stryver, shaking his -forensic forefinger at the Temple in general, when it was down, "my way -out of this, is, to put you all in the wrong." - -It was a bit of the art of an Old Bailey tactician, in which he found -great relief. "You shall not put me in the wrong, young lady," said Mr. -Stryver; "I'll do that for you." - -Accordingly, when Mr. Lorry called that night as late as ten o'clock, -Mr. Stryver, among a quantity of books and papers littered out for the -purpose, seemed to have nothing less on his mind than the subject of -the morning. He even showed surprise when he saw Mr. Lorry, and was -altogether in an absent and preoccupied state. - -"Well!" said that good-natured emissary, after a full half-hour of -bootless attempts to bring him round to the question. "I have been to -Soho." - -"To Soho?" repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. "Oh, to be sure! What am I -thinking of!" - -"And I have no doubt," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was right in the -conversation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my -advice." - -"I assure you," returned Mr. Stryver, in the friendliest way, "that I -am sorry for it on your account, and sorry for it on the poor father's -account. I know this must always be a sore subject with the family; let -us say no more about it." - -"I don't understand you," said Mr. Lorry. - -"I dare say not," rejoined Stryver, nodding his head in a smoothing and -final way; "no matter, no matter." - -"But it does matter," Mr. Lorry urged. - -"No it doesn't; I assure you it doesn't. Having supposed that there was -sense where there is no sense, and a laudable ambition where there is -not a laudable ambition, I am well out of my mistake, and no harm is -done. Young women have committed similar follies often before, and have -repented them in poverty and obscurity often before. In an unselfish -aspect, I am sorry that the thing is dropped, because it would have been -a bad thing for me in a worldly point of view; in a selfish aspect, I am -glad that the thing has dropped, because it would have been a bad thing -for me in a worldly point of view--it is hardly necessary to say I could -have gained nothing by it. There is no harm at all done. I have not -proposed to the young lady, and, between ourselves, I am by no means -certain, on reflection, that I ever should have committed myself to -that extent. Mr. Lorry, you cannot control the mincing vanities and -giddinesses of empty-headed girls; you must not expect to do it, or you -will always be disappointed. Now, pray say no more about it. I tell you, -I regret it on account of others, but I am satisfied on my own account. -And I am really very much obliged to you for allowing me to sound you, -and for giving me your advice; you know the young lady better than I do; -you were right, it never would have done." - -Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he looked quite stupidly at Mr. -Stryver shouldering him towards the door, with an appearance of -showering generosity, forbearance, and goodwill, on his erring head. -"Make the best of it, my dear sir," said Stryver; "say no more about it; -thank you again for allowing me to sound you; good night!" - -Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he knew where he was. Mr. Stryver -was lying back on his sofa, winking at his ceiling. - - - - -XIII. The Fellow of No Delicacy - - -If Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the -house of Doctor Manette. He had been there often, during a whole year, -and had always been the same moody and morose lounger there. When he -cared to talk, he talked well; but, the cloud of caring for nothing, -which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely -pierced by the light within him. - -And yet he did care something for the streets that environed that house, -and for the senseless stones that made their pavements. Many a night -he vaguely and unhappily wandered there, when wine had brought no -transitory gladness to him; many a dreary daybreak revealed his solitary -figure lingering there, and still lingering there when the first beams -of the sun brought into strong relief, removed beauties of architecture -in spires of churches and lofty buildings, as perhaps the quiet time -brought some sense of better things, else forgotten and unattainable, -into his mind. Of late, the neglected bed in the Temple Court had known -him more scantily than ever; and often when he had thrown himself upon -it no longer than a few minutes, he had got up again, and haunted that -neighbourhood. - -On a day in August, when Mr. Stryver (after notifying to his jackal -that "he had thought better of that marrying matter") had carried his -delicacy into Devonshire, and when the sight and scent of flowers in the -City streets had some waifs of goodness in them for the worst, of health -for the sickliest, and of youth for the oldest, Sydney's feet still trod -those stones. From being irresolute and purposeless, his feet became -animated by an intention, and, in the working out of that intention, -they took him to the Doctor's door. - -He was shown up-stairs, and found Lucie at her work, alone. She had -never been quite at her ease with him, and received him with some little -embarrassment as he seated himself near her table. But, looking up at -his face in the interchange of the first few common-places, she observed -a change in it. - -"I fear you are not well, Mr. Carton!" - -"No. But the life I lead, Miss Manette, is not conducive to health. What -is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?" - -"Is it not--forgive me; I have begun the question on my lips--a pity to -live no better life?" - -"God knows it is a shame!" - -"Then why not change it?" - -Looking gently at him again, she was surprised and saddened to see that -there were tears in his eyes. There were tears in his voice too, as he -answered: - -"It is too late for that. I shall never be better than I am. I shall -sink lower, and be worse." - -He leaned an elbow on her table, and covered his eyes with his hand. The -table trembled in the silence that followed. - -She had never seen him softened, and was much distressed. He knew her to -be so, without looking at her, and said: - -"Pray forgive me, Miss Manette. I break down before the knowledge of -what I want to say to you. Will you hear me?" - -"If it will do you any good, Mr. Carton, if it would make you happier, -it would make me very glad!" - -"God bless you for your sweet compassion!" - -He unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily. - -"Don't be afraid to hear me. Don't shrink from anything I say. I am like -one who died young. All my life might have been." - -"No, Mr. Carton. I am sure that the best part of it might still be; I am -sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself." - -"Say of you, Miss Manette, and although I know better--although in the -mystery of my own wretched heart I know better--I shall never forget -it!" - -She was pale and trembling. He came to her relief with a fixed despair -of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could have -been holden. - -"If it had been possible, Miss Manette, that you could have returned the -love of the man you see before yourself--flung away, wasted, drunken, -poor creature of misuse as you know him to be--he would have been -conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he would -bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and repentance, blight you, -disgrace you, pull you down with him. I know very well that you can have -no tenderness for me; I ask for none; I am even thankful that it cannot -be." - -"Without it, can I not save you, Mr. Carton? Can I not recall -you--forgive me again!--to a better course? Can I in no way repay your -confidence? I know this is a confidence," she modestly said, after a -little hesitation, and in earnest tears, "I know you would say this to -no one else. Can I turn it to no good account for yourself, Mr. Carton?" - -He shook his head. - -"To none. No, Miss Manette, to none. If you will hear me through a very -little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that -you have been the last dream of my soul. In my degradation I have not -been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this -home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I thought had -died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a remorse that -I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from -old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were silent for ever. I -have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off -sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all -a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, -but I wish you to know that you inspired it." - -"Will nothing of it remain? O Mr. Carton, think again! Try again!" - -"No, Miss Manette; all through it, I have known myself to be quite -undeserving. And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the -weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, -heap of ashes that I am, into fire--a fire, however, inseparable in -its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no -service, idly burning away." - -"Since it is my misfortune, Mr. Carton, to have made you more unhappy -than you were before you knew me--" - -"Don't say that, Miss Manette, for you would have reclaimed me, if -anything could. You will not be the cause of my becoming worse." - -"Since the state of your mind that you describe, is, at all events, -attributable to some influence of mine--this is what I mean, if I can -make it plain--can I use no influence to serve you? Have I no power for -good, with you, at all?" - -"The utmost good that I am capable of now, Miss Manette, I have come -here to realise. Let me carry through the rest of my misdirected life, -the remembrance that I opened my heart to you, last of all the world; -and that there was something left in me at this time which you could -deplore and pity." - -"Which I entreated you to believe, again and again, most fervently, with -all my heart, was capable of better things, Mr. Carton!" - -"Entreat me to believe it no more, Miss Manette. I have proved myself, -and I know better. I distress you; I draw fast to an end. Will you let -me believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence of my life -was reposed in your pure and innocent breast, and that it lies there -alone, and will be shared by no one?" - -"If that will be a consolation to you, yes." - -"Not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?" - -"Mr. Carton," she answered, after an agitated pause, "the secret is -yours, not mine; and I promise to respect it." - -"Thank you. And again, God bless you." - -He put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door. - -"Be under no apprehension, Miss Manette, of my ever resuming this -conversation by so much as a passing word. I will never refer to it -again. If I were dead, that could not be surer than it is henceforth. In -the hour of my death, I shall hold sacred the one good remembrance--and -shall thank and bless you for it--that my last avowal of myself was made -to you, and that my name, and faults, and miseries were gently carried -in your heart. May it otherwise be light and happy!" - -He was so unlike what he had ever shown himself to be, and it was so -sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much he every day kept -down and perverted, that Lucie Manette wept mournfully for him as he -stood looking back at her. - -"Be comforted!" he said, "I am not worth such feeling, Miss Manette. An -hour or two hence, and the low companions and low habits that I scorn -but yield to, will render me less worth such tears as those, than any -wretch who creeps along the streets. Be comforted! But, within myself, I -shall always be, towards you, what I am now, though outwardly I shall be -what you have heretofore seen me. The last supplication but one I make -to you, is, that you will believe this of me." - -"I will, Mr. Carton." - -"My last supplication of all, is this; and with it, I will relieve -you of a visitor with whom I well know you have nothing in unison, and -between whom and you there is an impassable space. It is useless to say -it, I know, but it rises out of my soul. For you, and for any dear to -you, I would do anything. If my career were of that better kind that -there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, I would -embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. Try to hold -me in your mind, at some quiet times, as ardent and sincere in this one -thing. The time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new -ties will be formed about you--ties that will bind you yet more tenderly -and strongly to the home you so adorn--the dearest ties that will ever -grace and gladden you. O Miss Manette, when the little picture of a -happy father's face looks up in yours, when you see your own bright -beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is -a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!" - -He said, "Farewell!" said a last "God bless you!" and left her. - - - - -XIV. The Honest Tradesman - - -To the eyes of Mr. Jeremiah Cruncher, sitting on his stool in -Fleet-street with his grisly urchin beside him, a vast number and -variety of objects in movement were every day presented. Who could sit -upon anything in Fleet-street during the busy hours of the day, and -not be dazed and deafened by two immense processions, one ever tending -westward with the sun, the other ever tending eastward from the sun, -both ever tending to the plains beyond the range of red and purple where -the sun goes down! - -With his straw in his mouth, Mr. Cruncher sat watching the two streams, -like the heathen rustic who has for several centuries been on duty -watching one stream--saving that Jerry had no expectation of their ever -running dry. Nor would it have been an expectation of a hopeful kind, -since a small part of his income was derived from the pilotage of timid -women (mostly of a full habit and past the middle term of life) from -Tellson's side of the tides to the opposite shore. Brief as such -companionship was in every separate instance, Mr. Cruncher never failed -to become so interested in the lady as to express a strong desire to -have the honour of drinking her very good health. And it was from -the gifts bestowed upon him towards the execution of this benevolent -purpose, that he recruited his finances, as just now observed. - -Time was, when a poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused in -the sight of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitting on a stool in a public place, -but not being a poet, mused as little as possible, and looked about him. - -It fell out that he was thus engaged in a season when crowds were -few, and belated women few, and when his affairs in general were so -unprosperous as to awaken a strong suspicion in his breast that Mrs. -Cruncher must have been "flopping" in some pointed manner, when an -unusual concourse pouring down Fleet-street westward, attracted his -attention. Looking that way, Mr. Cruncher made out that some kind of -funeral was coming along, and that there was popular objection to this -funeral, which engendered uproar. - -"Young Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, turning to his offspring, "it's a -buryin'." - -"Hooroar, father!" cried Young Jerry. - -The young gentleman uttered this exultant sound with mysterious -significance. The elder gentleman took the cry so ill, that he watched -his opportunity, and smote the young gentleman on the ear. - -"What d'ye mean? What are you hooroaring at? What do you want to conwey -to your own father, you young Rip? This boy is a getting too many for -_me_!" said Mr. Cruncher, surveying him. "Him and his hooroars! Don't -let me hear no more of you, or you shall feel some more of me. D'ye -hear?" - -"I warn't doing no harm," Young Jerry protested, rubbing his cheek. - -"Drop it then," said Mr. Cruncher; "I won't have none of _your_ no -harms. Get a top of that there seat, and look at the crowd." - -His son obeyed, and the crowd approached; they were bawling and hissing -round a dingy hearse and dingy mourning coach, in which mourning coach -there was only one mourner, dressed in the dingy trappings that were -considered essential to the dignity of the position. The position -appeared by no means to please him, however, with an increasing rabble -surrounding the coach, deriding him, making grimaces at him, and -incessantly groaning and calling out: "Yah! Spies! Tst! Yaha! Spies!" -with many compliments too numerous and forcible to repeat. - -Funerals had at all times a remarkable attraction for Mr. Cruncher; he -always pricked up his senses, and became excited, when a funeral passed -Tellson's. Naturally, therefore, a funeral with this uncommon attendance -excited him greatly, and he asked of the first man who ran against him: - -"What is it, brother? What's it about?" - -"_I_ don't know," said the man. "Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!" - -He asked another man. "Who is it?" - -"_I_ don't know," returned the man, clapping his hands to his mouth -nevertheless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with the -greatest ardour, "Spies! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi--ies!" - -At length, a person better informed on the merits of the case, tumbled -against him, and from this person he learned that the funeral was the -funeral of one Roger Cly. - -"Was he a spy?" asked Mr. Cruncher. - -"Old Bailey spy," returned his informant. "Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey -Spi--i--ies!" - -"Why, to be sure!" exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had -assisted. "I've seen him. Dead, is he?" - -"Dead as mutton," returned the other, "and can't be too dead. Have 'em -out, there! Spies! Pull 'em out, there! Spies!" - -The idea was so acceptable in the prevalent absence of any idea, -that the crowd caught it up with eagerness, and loudly repeating the -suggestion to have 'em out, and to pull 'em out, mobbed the two vehicles -so closely that they came to a stop. On the crowd's opening the coach -doors, the one mourner scuffled out by himself and was in their hands -for a moment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, -that in another moment he was scouring away up a bye-street, after -shedding his cloak, hat, long hatband, white pocket-handkerchief, and -other symbolical tears. - -These, the people tore to pieces and scattered far and wide with great -enjoyment, while the tradesmen hurriedly shut up their shops; for a -crowd in those times stopped at nothing, and was a monster much dreaded. -They had already got the length of opening the hearse to take the coffin -out, when some brighter genius proposed instead, its being escorted to -its destination amidst general rejoicing. Practical suggestions being -much needed, this suggestion, too, was received with acclamation, and -the coach was immediately filled with eight inside and a dozen out, -while as many people got on the roof of the hearse as could by any -exercise of ingenuity stick upon it. Among the first of these volunteers -was Jerry Cruncher himself, who modestly concealed his spiky head from -the observation of Tellson's, in the further corner of the mourning -coach. - -The officiating undertakers made some protest against these changes in -the ceremonies; but, the river being alarmingly near, and several voices -remarking on the efficacy of cold immersion in bringing refractory -members of the profession to reason, the protest was faint and brief. -The remodelled procession started, with a chimney-sweep driving the -hearse--advised by the regular driver, who was perched beside him, under -close inspection, for the purpose--and with a pieman, also attended -by his cabinet minister, driving the mourning coach. A bear-leader, a -popular street character of the time, was impressed as an additional -ornament, before the cavalcade had gone far down the Strand; and his -bear, who was black and very mangy, gave quite an Undertaking air to -that part of the procession in which he walked. - -Thus, with beer-drinking, pipe-smoking, song-roaring, and infinite -caricaturing of woe, the disorderly procession went its way, recruiting -at every step, and all the shops shutting up before it. Its destination -was the old church of Saint Pancras, far off in the fields. It got there -in course of time; insisted on pouring into the burial-ground; finally, -accomplished the interment of the deceased Roger Cly in its own way, and -highly to its own satisfaction. - -The dead man disposed of, and the crowd being under the necessity of -providing some other entertainment for itself, another brighter -genius (or perhaps the same) conceived the humour of impeaching casual -passers-by, as Old Bailey spies, and wreaking vengeance on them. Chase -was given to some scores of inoffensive persons who had never been near -the Old Bailey in their lives, in the realisation of this fancy, and -they were roughly hustled and maltreated. The transition to the sport of -window-breaking, and thence to the plundering of public-houses, was easy -and natural. At last, after several hours, when sundry summer-houses had -been pulled down, and some area-railings had been torn up, to arm -the more belligerent spirits, a rumour got about that the Guards were -coming. Before this rumour, the crowd gradually melted away, and perhaps -the Guards came, and perhaps they never came, and this was the usual -progress of a mob. - -Mr. Cruncher did not assist at the closing sports, but had remained -behind in the churchyard, to confer and condole with the undertakers. -The place had a soothing influence on him. He procured a pipe from a -neighbouring public-house, and smoked it, looking in at the railings and -maturely considering the spot. - -"Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, apostrophising himself in his usual way, -"you see that there Cly that day, and you see with your own eyes that he -was a young 'un and a straight made 'un." - -Having smoked his pipe out, and ruminated a little longer, he turned -himself about, that he might appear, before the hour of closing, on his -station at Tellson's. Whether his meditations on mortality had touched -his liver, or whether his general health had been previously at all -amiss, or whether he desired to show a little attention to an eminent -man, is not so much to the purpose, as that he made a short call upon -his medical adviser--a distinguished surgeon--on his way back. - -Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and reported No -job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient clerks came out, the -usual watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea. - -"Now, I tell you where it is!" said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on -entering. "If, as a honest tradesman, my wenturs goes wrong to-night, I -shall make sure that you've been praying again me, and I shall work you -for it just the same as if I seen you do it." - -The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head. - -"Why, you're at it afore my face!" said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of -angry apprehension. - -"I am saying nothing." - -"Well, then; don't meditate nothing. You might as well flop as meditate. -You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop it altogether." - -"Yes, Jerry." - -"Yes, Jerry," repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. "Ah! It _is_ -yes, Jerry. That's about it. You may say yes, Jerry." - -Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corroborations, -but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express general -ironical dissatisfaction. - -"You and your yes, Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his -bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible -oyster out of his saucer. "Ah! I think so. I believe you." - -"You are going out to-night?" asked his decent wife, when he took -another bite. - -"Yes, I am." - -"May I go with you, father?" asked his son, briskly. - -"No, you mayn't. I'm a going--as your mother knows--a fishing. That's -where I'm going to. Going a fishing." - -"Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don't it, father?" - -"Never you mind." - -"Shall you bring any fish home, father?" - -"If I don't, you'll have short commons, to-morrow," returned that -gentleman, shaking his head; "that's questions enough for you; I ain't a -going out, till you've been long abed." - -He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a -most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in -conversation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions -to his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in -conversation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling -on any causes of complaint he could bring against her, rather than -he would leave her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest -person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an -honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a -professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story. - -"And mind you!" said Mr. Cruncher. "No games to-morrow! If I, as a -honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none -of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest -tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring -on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly -customer to you, if you don't. _I_'m your Rome, you know." - -Then he began grumbling again: - -"With your flying into the face of your own wittles and drink! I don't -know how scarce you mayn't make the wittles and drink here, by your -flopping tricks and your unfeeling conduct. Look at your boy: he _is_ -your'n, ain't he? He's as thin as a lath. Do you call yourself a mother, -and not know that a mother's first duty is to blow her boy out?" - -This touched Young Jerry on a tender place; who adjured his mother to -perform her first duty, and, whatever else she did or neglected, above -all things to lay especial stress on the discharge of that maternal -function so affectingly and delicately indicated by his other parent. - -Thus the evening wore away with the Cruncher family, until Young Jerry -was ordered to bed, and his mother, laid under similar injunctions, -obeyed them. Mr. Cruncher beguiled the earlier watches of the night with -solitary pipes, and did not start upon his excursion until nearly one -o'clock. Towards that small and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, -took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought -forth a sack, a crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other -fishing tackle of that nature. Disposing these articles about him -in skilful manner, he bestowed a parting defiance on Mrs. Cruncher, -extinguished the light, and went out. - -Young Jerry, who had only made a feint of undressing when he went to -bed, was not long after his father. Under cover of the darkness he -followed out of the room, followed down the stairs, followed down the -court, followed out into the streets. He was in no uneasiness concerning -his getting into the house again, for it was full of lodgers, and the -door stood ajar all night. - -Impelled by a laudable ambition to study the art and mystery of his -father's honest calling, Young Jerry, keeping as close to house fronts, -walls, and doorways, as his eyes were close to one another, held his -honoured parent in view. The honoured parent steering Northward, had not -gone far, when he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and -the two trudged on together. - -Within half an hour from the first starting, they were beyond the -winking lamps, and the more than winking watchmen, and were out upon a -lonely road. Another fisherman was picked up here--and that so silently, -that if Young Jerry had been superstitious, he might have supposed the -second follower of the gentle craft to have, all of a sudden, split -himself into two. - -The three went on, and Young Jerry went on, until the three stopped -under a bank overhanging the road. Upon the top of the bank was a low -brick wall, surmounted by an iron railing. In the shadow of bank and -wall the three turned out of the road, and up a blind lane, of which -the wall--there, risen to some eight or ten feet high--formed one side. -Crouching down in a corner, peeping up the lane, the next object that -Young Jerry saw, was the form of his honoured parent, pretty well -defined against a watery and clouded moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate. -He was soon over, and then the second fisherman got over, and then the -third. They all dropped softly on the ground within the gate, and lay -there a little--listening perhaps. Then, they moved away on their hands -and knees. - -It was now Young Jerry's turn to approach the gate: which he did, -holding his breath. Crouching down again in a corner there, and looking -in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some rank grass! -and all the gravestones in the churchyard--it was a large churchyard -that they were in--looking on like ghosts in white, while the church -tower itself looked on like the ghost of a monstrous giant. They did not -creep far, before they stopped and stood upright. And then they began to -fish. - -They fished with a spade, at first. Presently the honoured parent -appeared to be adjusting some instrument like a great corkscrew. -Whatever tools they worked with, they worked hard, until the awful -striking of the church clock so terrified Young Jerry, that he made off, -with his hair as stiff as his father's. - -But, his long-cherished desire to know more about these matters, not -only stopped him in his running away, but lured him back again. They -were still fishing perseveringly, when he peeped in at the gate for -the second time; but, now they seemed to have got a bite. There was a -screwing and complaining sound down below, and their bent figures were -strained, as if by a weight. By slow degrees the weight broke away the -earth upon it, and came to the surface. Young Jerry very well knew what -it would be; but, when he saw it, and saw his honoured parent about to -wrench it open, he was so frightened, being new to the sight, that he -made off again, and never stopped until he had run a mile or more. - -He would not have stopped then, for anything less necessary than breath, -it being a spectral sort of race that he ran, and one highly desirable -to get to the end of. He had a strong idea that the coffin he had seen -was running after him; and, pictured as hopping on behind him, bolt -upright, upon its narrow end, always on the point of overtaking him -and hopping on at his side--perhaps taking his arm--it was a pursuer to -shun. It was an inconsistent and ubiquitous fiend too, for, while it -was making the whole night behind him dreadful, he darted out into the -roadway to avoid dark alleys, fearful of its coming hopping out of them -like a dropsical boy's kite without tail and wings. It hid in doorways -too, rubbing its horrible shoulders against doors, and drawing them up -to its ears, as if it were laughing. It got into shadows on the road, -and lay cunningly on its back to trip him up. All this time it was -incessantly hopping on behind and gaining on him, so that when the boy -got to his own door he had reason for being half dead. And even then -it would not leave him, but followed him upstairs with a bump on every -stair, scrambled into bed with him, and bumped down, dead and heavy, on -his breast when he fell asleep. - -From his oppressed slumber, Young Jerry in his closet was awakened after -daybreak and before sunrise, by the presence of his father in the -family room. Something had gone wrong with him; at least, so Young Jerry -inferred, from the circumstance of his holding Mrs. Cruncher by the -ears, and knocking the back of her head against the head-board of the -bed. - -"I told you I would," said Mr. Cruncher, "and I did." - -"Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!" his wife implored. - -"You oppose yourself to the profit of the business," said Jerry, "and me -and my partners suffer. You was to honour and obey; why the devil don't -you?" - -"I try to be a good wife, Jerry," the poor woman protested, with tears. - -"Is it being a good wife to oppose your husband's business? Is it -honouring your husband to dishonour his business? Is it obeying your -husband to disobey him on the wital subject of his business?" - -"You hadn't taken to the dreadful business then, Jerry." - -"It's enough for you," retorted Mr. Cruncher, "to be the wife of a -honest tradesman, and not to occupy your female mind with calculations -when he took to his trade or when he didn't. A honouring and obeying -wife would let his trade alone altogether. Call yourself a religious -woman? If you're a religious woman, give me a irreligious one! You have -no more nat'ral sense of duty than the bed of this here Thames river has -of a pile, and similarly it must be knocked into you." - -The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and terminated in -the honest tradesman's kicking off his clay-soiled boots, and lying down -at his length on the floor. After taking a timid peep at him lying on -his back, with his rusty hands under his head for a pillow, his son lay -down too, and fell asleep again. - -There was no fish for breakfast, and not much of anything else. Mr. -Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of temper, and kept an iron pot-lid -by him as a projectile for the correction of Mrs. Cruncher, in case -he should observe any symptoms of her saying Grace. He was brushed -and washed at the usual hour, and set off with his son to pursue his -ostensible calling. - -Young Jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his father's side -along sunny and crowded Fleet-street, was a very different Young Jerry -from him of the previous night, running home through darkness and -solitude from his grim pursuer. His cunning was fresh with the day, -and his qualms were gone with the night--in which particulars it is not -improbable that he had compeers in Fleet-street and the City of London, -that fine morning. - -"Father," said Young Jerry, as they walked along: taking care to keep -at arm's length and to have the stool well between them: "what's a -Resurrection-Man?" - -Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before he answered, "How -should I know?" - -"I thought you knowed everything, father," said the artless boy. - -"Hem! Well," returned Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and lifting off his -hat to give his spikes free play, "he's a tradesman." - -"What's his goods, father?" asked the brisk Young Jerry. - -"His goods," said Mr. Cruncher, after turning it over in his mind, "is a -branch of Scientific goods." - -"Persons' bodies, ain't it, father?" asked the lively boy. - -"I believe it is something of that sort," said Mr. Cruncher. - -"Oh, father, I should so like to be a Resurrection-Man when I'm quite -growed up!" - -Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his head in a dubious and moral way. -"It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Be careful to dewelop -your talents, and never to say no more than you can help to nobody, and -there's no telling at the present time what you may not come to be fit -for." As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few yards in advance, -to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar, Mr. Cruncher added to -himself: "Jerry, you honest tradesman, there's hopes wot that boy will -yet be a blessing to you, and a recompense to you for his mother!" - - - - -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 have 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 him--by accident--a day and 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 ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking near -Madame Defarge's counter. A third man got up and went out. - -Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine--but, he took less -than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to whom it was no -rarity--and stood waiting until the countryman had made his breakfast. -He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not even -Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work. - -"Have you finished your repast, friend?" he asked, in due season. - -"Yes, thank you." - -"Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could -occupy. It will suit you to a marvel." - -Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a -courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the -staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where a white-haired man -sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes. - -No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had -gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the white-haired -man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at -him through the chinks in the wall. - -Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice: - -"Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness -encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell you all. -Speak, Jacques Five!" - -The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with -it, and said, "Where shall I commence, monsieur?" - -"Commence," was Monsieur Defarge's not unreasonable reply, "at the -commencement." - -"I saw him then, messieurs," began the mender of roads, "a year ago this -running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging by the -chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun -going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he -hanging by the chain--like this." - -Again the mender of roads went through the whole performance; in which -he ought to have been perfect by that time, seeing that it had been -the infallible resource and indispensable entertainment of his village -during a whole year. - -Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the man before? - -"Never," answered the mender of roads, recovering his perpendicular. - -Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then? - -"By his tall figure," said the mender of roads, softly, and with his -finger at his nose. "When Monsieur the Marquis demands that evening, -'Say, what is he like?' I make response, 'Tall as a spectre.'" - -"You should have said, short as a dwarf," returned Jacques Two. - -"But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished, neither did he -confide in me. Observe! Under those circumstances even, I do not -offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis indicates me with his finger, -standing near our little fountain, and says, 'To me! Bring that rascal!' -My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing." - -"He is right there, Jacques," murmured Defarge, to him who had -interrupted. "Go on!" - -"Good!" said the mender of roads, with an air of mystery. "The tall man -is lost, and he is sought--how many months? Nine, ten, eleven?" - -"No matter, the number," said Defarge. "He is well hidden, but at last -he is unluckily found. Go on!" - -"I am again at work upon the hill-side, and the sun is again about to -go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to my cottage down in the -village below, where it is already dark, when I raise my eyes, and see -coming over the hill six soldiers. In the midst of them is a tall man -with his arms bound--tied to his sides--like this!" - -With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man with his -elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were knotted behind him. - -"I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see the soldiers -and their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road, that, where any -spectacle is well worth looking at), and at first, as they approach, I -see no more than that they are six soldiers with a tall man bound, and -that they are almost black to my sight--except on the side of the sun -going to bed, where they have a red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that -their long shadows are on the hollow ridge on the opposite side of the -road, and are on the hill above it, and are like the shadows of giants. -Also, I see that they are covered with dust, and that the dust moves -with them as they come, tramp, tramp! But when they advance quite near -to me, I recognise the tall man, and he recognises me. Ah, but he would -be well content to precipitate himself over the hill-side once again, as -on the evening when he and I first encountered, close to the same spot!" - -He described it as if he were there, and it was evident that he saw it -vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life. - -"I do not show the soldiers that I recognise the tall man; he does not -show the soldiers that he recognises me; we do it, and we know it, with -our eyes. 'Come on!' says the chief of that company, pointing to the -village, 'bring him fast to his tomb!' and they bring him faster. I -follow. His arms are swelled because of being bound so tight, his wooden -shoes are large and clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame, and -consequently slow, they drive him with their guns--like this!" - -He imitated the action of a man's being impelled forward by the -butt-ends of muskets. - -"As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, he falls. They -laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleeding and covered with dust, -but he cannot touch it; thereupon they laugh again. They bring him into -the village; all the village runs to look; they take him past the mill, -and up to the prison; all the village sees the prison gate open in the -darkness of the night, and swallow him--like this!" - -He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and shut it with a sounding -snap of his teeth. Observant of his unwillingness to mar the effect by -opening it again, Defarge said, "Go on, Jacques." - -"All the village," pursued the mender of roads, on tiptoe and in a low -voice, "withdraws; all the village whispers by the fountain; all the -village sleeps; all the village dreams of that unhappy one, within the -locks and bars of the prison on the crag, and never to come out of it, -except to perish. In the morning, with my tools upon my shoulder, eating -my morsel of black bread as I go, I make a circuit by the prison, on -my way to my work. There I see him, high up, behind the bars of a lofty -iron cage, bloody and dusty as last night, looking through. He has no -hand free, to wave to me; I dare not call to him; he regards me like a -dead man." - -Defarge and the three glanced darkly at one another. The looks of all -of them were dark, repressed, and revengeful, as they listened to the -countryman's story; the manner of all of them, while it was secret, was -authoritative too. They had the air of a rough tribunal; Jacques One -and Two sitting on the old pallet-bed, each with his chin resting on -his hand, and his eyes intent on the road-mender; Jacques Three, equally -intent, on one knee behind them, with his agitated hand always gliding -over the network of fine nerves about his mouth and nose; Defarge -standing between them and the narrator, whom he had stationed in the -light of the window, by turns looking from him to them, and from them to -him. - -"Go on, Jacques," said Defarge. - -"He remains up there in his iron cage some days. The village looks -at him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from a -distance, at the prison on the crag; and in the evening, when the work -of the day is achieved and it assembles to gossip at the fountain, all -faces are turned towards the prison. Formerly, they were turned towards -the posting-house; now, they are turned towards the prison. They -whisper at the fountain, that although condemned to death he will not be -executed; they say that petitions have been presented in Paris, showing -that he was enraged and made mad by the death of his child; they say -that a petition has been presented to the King himself. What do I know? -It is possible. Perhaps yes, perhaps no." - -"Listen then, Jacques," Number One of that name sternly interposed. -"Know that a petition was presented to the King and Queen. All here, -yourself excepted, saw the King take it, in his carriage in the street, -sitting beside the Queen. It is Defarge whom you see here, who, at the -hazard of his life, darted out before the horses, with the petition in -his hand." - -"And once again listen, Jacques!" said the kneeling Number Three: -his fingers ever wandering over and over those fine nerves, with a -strikingly greedy air, as if he hungered for something--that was neither -food nor drink; "the guard, horse and foot, surrounded the petitioner, -and struck him blows. You hear?" - -"I hear, messieurs." - -"Go on then," said Defarge. - -"Again; on the other hand, they whisper at the fountain," resumed the -countryman, "that he is brought down into our country to be executed on -the spot, and that he will very certainly be executed. They even whisper -that because he has slain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur was the -father of his tenants--serfs--what you will--he will be executed as a -parricide. One old man says at the fountain, that his right hand, armed -with the knife, will be burnt off before his face; that, into wounds -which will be made in his arms, his breast, and his legs, there will be -poured boiling oil, melted lead, hot resin, wax, and sulphur; finally, -that he will be torn limb from limb by four strong horses. That old man -says, all this was actually done to a prisoner who made an attempt on -the life of the late King, Louis Fifteen. But how do I know if he lies? -I am not a scholar." - -"Listen once again then, Jacques!" said the man with the restless hand -and the craving air. "The name of that prisoner was Damiens, and it was -all done in open day, in the open streets of this city of Paris; and -nothing was more noticed in the vast concourse that saw it done, than -the crowd of ladies of quality and fashion, who were full of eager -attention to the last--to the last, Jacques, prolonged until nightfall, -when he had lost two legs and an arm, and still breathed! And it was -done--why, how old are you?" - -"Thirty-five," said the mender of roads, who looked sixty. - -"It was done when you were more than ten years old; you might have seen -it." - -"Enough!" said Defarge, with grim impatience. "Long live the Devil! Go -on." - -"Well! Some whisper this, some whisper that; they speak of nothing else; -even the fountain appears to fall to that tune. At length, on Sunday -night when all the village is asleep, come soldiers, winding down from -the prison, and their guns ring on the stones of the little street. -Workmen dig, workmen hammer, soldiers laugh and sing; in the morning, by -the fountain, there is raised a gallows forty feet high, poisoning the -water." - -The mender of roads looked _through_ rather than _at_ the low ceiling, -and pointed as if he saw the gallows somewhere in the sky. - -"All work is stopped, all assemble there, nobody leads the cows out, -the cows are there with the rest. At midday, the roll of drums. Soldiers -have marched into the prison in the night, and he is in the midst -of many soldiers. He is bound as before, and in his mouth there is -a gag--tied so, with a tight string, making him look almost as if he -laughed." He suggested it, by creasing his face with his two thumbs, -from the corners of his mouth to his ears. "On the top of the gallows is -fixed the knife, blade upwards, with its point in the air. He is hanged -there forty feet high--and is left hanging, poisoning the water." - -They looked at one another, as he used his blue cap to wipe his face, -on which the perspiration had started afresh while he recalled the -spectacle. - -"It is frightful, messieurs. How can the women and the children draw -water! Who can gossip of an evening, under that shadow! Under it, have -I said? When I left the village, Monday evening as the sun was going to -bed, and looked back from the hill, the shadow struck across the church, -across the mill, across the prison--seemed to strike across the earth, -messieurs, to where the sky rests upon it!" - -The hungry man gnawed one of his fingers as he looked at the other -three, and his finger quivered with the craving that was on him. - -"That's all, messieurs. I left at sunset (as I had been warned to do), -and I walked on, that night and half next day, until I met (as I was -warned I should) this comrade. With him, I came on, now riding and now -walking, through the rest of yesterday and through last night. And here -you see me!" - -After a gloomy silence, the first Jacques said, "Good! You have acted -and recounted faithfully. Will you wait for us a little, outside the -door?" - -"Very willingly," said the mender of roads. Whom Defarge escorted to the -top of the stairs, and, leaving seated there, returned. - -The three had risen, and their heads were together when he came back to -the garret. - -"How say you, Jacques?" demanded Number One. "To be registered?" - -"To be registered, as doomed to destruction," returned Defarge. - -"Magnificent!" croaked the man with the craving. - -"The chateau, and all the race?" inquired the first. - -"The chateau and all the race," returned Defarge. "Extermination." - -The hungry man repeated, in a rapturous croak, "Magnificent!" and began -gnawing another finger. - -"Are you sure," asked Jacques Two, of Defarge, "that no embarrassment -can arise from our manner of keeping the register? Without doubt it is -safe, for no one beyond ourselves can decipher it; but shall we always -be able to decipher it--or, I ought to say, will she?" - -"Jacques," returned Defarge, drawing himself up, "if madame my wife -undertook to keep the register in her memory alone, she would not lose -a word of it--not a syllable of it. Knitted, in her own stitches and her -own symbols, it will always be as plain to her as the sun. Confide in -Madame Defarge. It would be easier for the weakest poltroon that lives, -to erase himself from existence, than to erase one letter of his name or -crimes from the knitted register of Madame Defarge." - -There was a murmur of confidence and approval, and then the man who -hungered, asked: "Is this rustic to be sent back soon? I hope so. He is -very simple; is he not a little dangerous?" - -"He knows nothing," said Defarge; "at least nothing more than would -easily elevate himself to a gallows of the same height. I charge myself -with him; let him remain with me; I will take care of him, and set him -on his road. He wishes to see the fine world--the King, the Queen, and -Court; let him see them on Sunday." - -"What?" exclaimed the hungry man, staring. "Is it a good sign, that he -wishes to see Royalty and Nobility?" - -"Jacques," said Defarge; "judiciously show a cat milk, if you wish her -to thirst for it. Judiciously show a dog his natural prey, if you wish -him to bring it down one day." - -Nothing more was said, and the mender of roads, being found already -dozing on the topmost stair, was advised to lay himself down on the -pallet-bed and take some rest. He needed no persuasion, and was soon -asleep. - -Worse quarters than Defarge's wine-shop, could easily have been found -in Paris for a provincial slave of that degree. Saving for a mysterious -dread of madame by which he was constantly haunted, his life was very -new and agreeable. But, madame sat all day at her counter, so expressly -unconscious of him, and so particularly determined not to perceive that -his being there had any connection with anything below the surface, that -he shook in his wooden shoes whenever his eye lighted on her. For, he -contended with himself that it was impossible to foresee what that lady -might pretend next; and he felt assured that if she should take it -into her brightly ornamented head to pretend that she had seen him do a -murder and afterwards flay the victim, she would infallibly go through -with it until the play was played out. - -Therefore, when Sunday came, the mender of roads was not enchanted -(though he said he was) to find that madame was to accompany monsieur -and himself to Versailles. It was additionally disconcerting to have -madame knitting all the way there, in a public conveyance; it was -additionally disconcerting yet, to have madame in the crowd in the -afternoon, still with her knitting in her hands as the crowd waited to -see the carriage of the King and Queen. - -"You work hard, madame," said a man near her. - -"Yes," answered Madame Defarge; "I have a good deal to do." - -"What do you make, madame?" - -"Many things." - -"For instance--" - -"For instance," returned Madame Defarge, composedly, "shrouds." - -The man moved a little further away, as soon as he could, and the mender -of roads fanned himself with his blue cap: feeling it mightily close -and oppressive. If he needed a King and Queen to restore him, he was -fortunate in having his remedy at hand; for, soon the large-faced King -and the fair-faced Queen came in their golden coach, attended by the -shining Bull's Eye of their Court, a glittering multitude of laughing -ladies and fine lords; and in jewels and silks and powder and splendour -and elegantly spurning figures and handsomely disdainful faces of both -sexes, the mender of roads bathed himself, so much to his temporary -intoxication, that he cried Long live the King, Long live the Queen, -Long live everybody and everything! as if he had never heard of -ubiquitous Jacques in his time. Then, there were gardens, courtyards, -terraces, fountains, green banks, more King and Queen, more Bull's Eye, -more lords and ladies, more Long live they all! until he absolutely wept -with sentiment. During the whole of this scene, which lasted some three -hours, he had plenty of shouting and weeping and sentimental company, -and throughout Defarge held him by the collar, as if to restrain him -from flying at the objects of his brief devotion and tearing them to -pieces. - -"Bravo!" said Defarge, clapping him on the back when it was over, like a -patron; "you are a good boy!" - -The mender of roads was now coming to himself, and was mistrustful of -having made a mistake in his late demonstrations; but no. - -"You are the fellow we want," said Defarge, in his ear; "you make -these fools believe that it will last for ever. Then, they are the more -insolent, and it is the nearer ended." - -"Hey!" cried the mender of roads, reflectively; "that's true." - -"These fools know nothing. While they despise your breath, and would -stop it for ever and ever, in you or in a hundred like you rather than -in one of their own horses or dogs, they only know what your breath -tells them. Let it deceive them, then, a little longer; it cannot -deceive them too much." - -Madame Defarge looked superciliously at the client, and nodded in -confirmation. - -"As to you," said she, "you would shout and shed tears for anything, if -it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?" - -"Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment." - -"If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set upon them to -pluck them to pieces and despoil them for your own advantage, you would -pick out the richest and gayest. Say! Would you not?" - -"Truly yes, madame." - -"Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly, and were -set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage, -you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?" - -"It is true, madame." - -"You have seen both dolls and birds to-day," said Madame Defarge, with -a wave of her hand towards the place where they had last been apparent; -"now, go home!" - - - - -XVI. Still Knitting - - -Madame Defarge and monsieur her husband returned amicably to the -bosom of Saint Antoine, while a speck in a blue cap toiled through the -darkness, and through the dust, and down the weary miles of avenue by -the wayside, slowly tending towards that point of the compass where -the chateau of Monsieur the Marquis, now in his grave, listened to -the whispering trees. Such ample leisure had the stone faces, now, -for listening to the trees and to the fountain, that the few village -scarecrows who, in their quest for herbs to eat and fragments of dead -stick to burn, strayed within sight of the great stone courtyard and -terrace staircase, had it borne in upon their starved fancy that -the expression of the faces was altered. A rumour just lived in the -village--had a faint and bare existence there, as its people had--that -when the knife struck home, the faces changed, from faces of pride to -faces of anger and pain; also, that when that dangling figure was hauled -up forty feet above the fountain, they changed again, and bore a cruel -look of being avenged, which they would henceforth bear for ever. In the -stone face over the great window of the bed-chamber where the murder -was done, two fine dints were pointed out in the sculptured nose, which -everybody recognised, and which nobody had seen of old; and on the -scarce occasions when two or three ragged peasants emerged from the -crowd to take a hurried peep at Monsieur the Marquis petrified, a -skinny finger would not have pointed to it for a minute, before they all -started away among the moss and leaves, like the more fortunate hares -who could find a living there. - -Chateau and hut, stone face and dangling figure, the red stain on the -stone floor, and the pure water in the village well--thousands of acres -of land--a whole province of France--all France itself--lay under the -night sky, concentrated into a faint hair-breadth line. So does a whole -world, with all its greatnesses and littlenesses, lie in a twinkling -star. And as mere human knowledge can split a ray of light and analyse -the manner of its composition, so, sublimer intelligences may read in -the feeble shining of this earth of ours, every thought and act, every -vice and virtue, of every responsible creature on it. - -The Defarges, husband and wife, came lumbering under the starlight, -in their public vehicle, to that gate of Paris whereunto their -journey naturally tended. There was the usual stoppage at the barrier -guardhouse, and the usual lanterns came glancing forth for the usual -examination and inquiry. Monsieur Defarge alighted; knowing one or two -of the soldiery there, and one of the police. The latter he was intimate -with, and affectionately embraced. - -When Saint Antoine had again enfolded the Defarges in his dusky wings, -and they, having finally alighted near the Saint's boundaries, were -picking their way on foot through the black mud and offal of his -streets, Madame Defarge spoke to her husband: - -"Say then, my friend; what did Jacques of the police tell thee?" - -"Very little to-night, but all he knows. There is another spy -commissioned for our quarter. There may be many more, for all that he -can say, but he knows of one." - -"Eh well!" said Madame Defarge, raising her eyebrows with a cool -business air. "It is necessary to register him. How do they call that -man?" - -"He is English." - -"So much the better. His name?" - -"Barsad," said Defarge, making it French by pronunciation. But, he had -been so careful to get it accurately, that he then spelt it with perfect -correctness. - -"Barsad," repeated madame. "Good. Christian name?" - -"John." - -"John Barsad," repeated madame, after murmuring it once to herself. -"Good. His appearance; is it known?" - -"Age, about forty years; height, about five feet nine; black hair; -complexion dark; generally, rather handsome visage; eyes dark, face -thin, long, and sallow; nose aquiline, but not straight, having a -peculiar inclination towards the left cheek; expression, therefore, -sinister." - -"Eh my faith. It is a portrait!" said madame, laughing. "He shall be -registered to-morrow." - -They turned into the wine-shop, which was closed (for it was midnight), -and where Madame Defarge immediately took her post at her desk, counted -the small moneys that had been taken during her absence, examined the -stock, went through the entries in the book, made other entries of -her own, checked the serving man in every possible way, and finally -dismissed him to bed. Then she turned out the contents of the bowl -of money for the second time, and began knotting them up in her -handkerchief, in a chain of separate knots, for safe keeping through the -night. All this while, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walked -up and down, complacently admiring, but never interfering; in which -condition, indeed, as to the business and his domestic affairs, he -walked up and down through life. - -The night was hot, and the shop, close shut and surrounded by so foul a -neighbourhood, was ill-smelling. Monsieur Defarge's olfactory sense was -by no means delicate, but the stock of wine smelt much stronger than -it ever tasted, and so did the stock of rum and brandy and aniseed. He -whiffed the compound of scents away, as he put down his smoked-out pipe. - -"You are fatigued," said madame, raising her glance as she knotted the -money. "There are only the usual odours." - -"I am a little tired," her husband acknowledged. - -"You are a little depressed, too," said madame, whose quick eyes had -never been so intent on the accounts, but they had had a ray or two for -him. "Oh, the men, the men!" - -"But my dear!" began Defarge. - -"But my dear!" repeated madame, nodding firmly; "but my dear! You are -faint of heart to-night, my dear!" - -"Well, then," said Defarge, as if a thought were wrung out of his -breast, "it _is_ a long time." - -"It is a long time," repeated his wife; "and when is it not a long time? -Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule." - -"It does not take a long time to strike a man with Lightning," said -Defarge. - -"How long," demanded madame, composedly, "does it take to make and store -the lightning? Tell me." - -Defarge raised his head thoughtfully, as if there were something in that -too. - -"It does not take a long time," said madame, "for an earthquake to -swallow a town. Eh well! Tell me how long it takes to prepare the -earthquake?" - -"A long time, I suppose," said Defarge. - -"But when it is ready, it takes place, and grinds to pieces everything -before it. In the meantime, it is always preparing, though it is not -seen or heard. That is your consolation. Keep it." - -She tied a knot with flashing eyes, as if it throttled a foe. - -"I tell thee," said madame, extending her right hand, for emphasis, -"that although it is a long time on the road, it is on the road and -coming. I tell thee it never retreats, and never stops. I tell thee it -is always advancing. Look around and consider the lives of all the world -that we know, consider the faces of all the world that we know, consider -the rage and discontent to which the Jacquerie addresses itself with -more and more of certainty every hour. Can such things last? Bah! I mock -you." - -"My brave wife," returned Defarge, standing before her with his head -a little bent, and his hands clasped at his back, like a docile and -attentive pupil before his catechist, "I do not question all this. But -it has lasted a long time, and it is possible--you know well, my wife, -it is possible--that it may not come, during our lives." - -"Eh well! How then?" demanded madame, tying another knot, as if there -were another enemy strangled. - -"Well!" said Defarge, with a half complaining and half apologetic shrug. -"We shall not see the triumph." - -"We shall have helped it," returned madame, with her extended hand in -strong action. "Nothing that we do, is done in vain. I believe, with all -my soul, that we shall see the triumph. But even if not, even if I knew -certainly not, show me the neck of an aristocrat and tyrant, and still I -would--" - -Then madame, with her teeth set, tied a very terrible knot indeed. - -"Hold!" cried Defarge, reddening a little as if he felt charged with -cowardice; "I too, my dear, will stop at nothing." - -"Yes! But it is your weakness that you sometimes need to see your victim -and your opportunity, to sustain you. Sustain yourself without that. -When the time comes, let loose a tiger and a devil; but wait for the -time with the tiger and the devil chained--not shown--yet always ready." - -Madame enforced the conclusion of this piece of advice by striking her -little counter with her chain of money as if she knocked its brains -out, and then gathering the heavy handkerchief under her arm in a serene -manner, and observing that it was time to go to bed. - -Next noontide saw the admirable woman in her usual place in the -wine-shop, knitting away assiduously. A rose lay beside her, and if she -now and then glanced at the flower, it was with no infraction of her -usual preoccupied air. There were a few customers, drinking or not -drinking, standing or seated, sprinkled about. The day was very hot, -and heaps of flies, who were extending their inquisitive and adventurous -perquisitions into all the glutinous little glasses near madame, fell -dead at the bottom. Their decease made no impression on the other flies -out promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they -themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until they met -the same fate. Curious to consider how heedless flies are!--perhaps they -thought as much at Court that sunny summer day. - -A figure entering at the door threw a shadow on Madame Defarge which she -felt to be a new one. She laid down her knitting, and began to pin her -rose in her head-dress, before she looked at the figure. - -It was curious. The moment Madame Defarge took up the rose, the -customers ceased talking, and began gradually to drop out of the -wine-shop. - -"Good day, madame," said the new-comer. - -"Good day, monsieur." - -She said it aloud, but added to herself, as she resumed her knitting: -"Hah! Good day, age about forty, height about five feet nine, black -hair, generally rather handsome visage, complexion dark, eyes dark, -thin, long and sallow face, aquiline nose but not straight, having a -peculiar inclination towards the left cheek which imparts a sinister -expression! Good day, one and all!" - -"Have the goodness to give me a little glass of old cognac, and a -mouthful of cool fresh water, madame." - -Madame complied with a polite air. - -"Marvellous cognac this, madame!" - -It was the first time it had ever been so complimented, and Madame -Defarge knew enough of its antecedents to know better. She said, -however, that the cognac was flattered, and took up her knitting. The -visitor watched her fingers for a few moments, and took the opportunity -of observing the place in general. - -"You knit with great skill, madame." - -"I am accustomed to it." - -"A pretty pattern too!" - -"_You_ think so?" said madame, looking at him with a smile. - -"Decidedly. May one ask what it is for?" - -"Pastime," said madame, still looking at him with a smile while her -fingers moved nimbly. - -"Not for use?" - -"That depends. I may find a use for it one day. If I do--Well," said -madame, drawing a breath and nodding her head with a stern kind of -coquetry, "I'll use it!" - -It was remarkable; but, the taste of Saint Antoine seemed to be -decidedly opposed to a rose on the head-dress of Madame Defarge. Two -men had entered separately, and had been about to order drink, when, -catching sight of that novelty, they faltered, made a pretence of -looking about as if for some friend who was not there, and went away. -Nor, of those who had been there when this visitor entered, was there -one left. They had all dropped off. The spy had kept his eyes open, -but had been able to detect no sign. They had lounged away in a -poverty-stricken, purposeless, accidental manner, quite natural and -unimpeachable. - -"_John_," thought madame, checking off her work as her fingers knitted, -and her eyes looked at the stranger. "Stay long enough, and I shall knit -'BARSAD' before you go." - -"You have a husband, madame?" - -"I have." - -"Children?" - -"No children." - -"Business seems bad?" - -"Business is very bad; the people are so poor." - -"Ah, the unfortunate, miserable people! So oppressed, too--as you say." - -"As _you_ say," madame retorted, correcting him, and deftly knitting an -extra something into his name that boded him no good. - -"Pardon me; certainly it was I who said so, but you naturally think so. -Of course." - -"_I_ think?" returned madame, in a high voice. "I and my husband have -enough to do to keep this wine-shop open, without thinking. All we -think, here, is how to live. That is the subject _we_ think of, and -it gives us, from morning to night, enough to think about, without -embarrassing our heads concerning others. _I_ think for others? No, no." - -The spy, who was there to pick up any crumbs he could find or make, did -not allow his baffled state to express itself in his sinister face; but, -stood with an air of gossiping gallantry, leaning his elbow on Madame -Defarge's little counter, and occasionally sipping his cognac. - -"A bad business this, madame, of Gaspard's execution. Ah! the poor -Gaspard!" With a sigh of great compassion. - -"My faith!" returned madame, coolly and lightly, "if people use knives -for such purposes, they have to pay for it. He knew beforehand what the -price of his luxury was; he has paid the price." - -"I believe," said the spy, dropping his soft voice to a tone -that invited confidence, and expressing an injured revolutionary -susceptibility in every muscle of his wicked face: "I believe there -is much compassion and anger in this neighbourhood, touching the poor -fellow? Between ourselves." - -"Is there?" asked madame, vacantly. - -"Is there not?" - -"--Here is my husband!" said Madame Defarge. - -As the keeper of the wine-shop entered at the door, the spy saluted -him by touching his hat, and saying, with an engaging smile, "Good day, -Jacques!" Defarge stopped short, and stared at him. - -"Good day, Jacques!" the spy repeated; with not quite so much -confidence, or quite so easy a smile under the stare. - -"You deceive yourself, monsieur," returned the keeper of the wine-shop. -"You mistake me for another. That is not my name. I am Ernest Defarge." - -"It is all the same," said the spy, airily, but discomfited too: "good -day!" - -"Good day!" answered Defarge, drily. - -"I was saying to madame, with whom I had the pleasure of chatting when -you entered, that they tell me there is--and no wonder!--much sympathy -and anger in Saint Antoine, touching the unhappy fate of poor Gaspard." - -"No one has told me so," said Defarge, shaking his head. "I know nothing -of it." - -Having said it, he passed behind the little counter, and stood with his -hand on the back of his wife's chair, looking over that barrier at the -person to whom they were both opposed, and whom either of them would -have shot with the greatest satisfaction. - -The spy, well used to his business, did not change his unconscious -attitude, but drained his little glass of cognac, took a sip of fresh -water, and asked for another glass of cognac. Madame Defarge poured it -out for him, took to her knitting again, and hummed a little song over -it. - -"You seem to know this quarter well; that is to say, better than I do?" -observed Defarge. - -"Not at all, but I hope to know it better. I am so profoundly interested -in its miserable inhabitants." - -"Hah!" muttered Defarge. - -"The pleasure of conversing with you, Monsieur Defarge, recalls to me," -pursued the spy, "that I have the honour of cherishing some interesting -associations with your name." - -"Indeed!" said Defarge, with much indifference. - -"Yes, indeed. When Doctor Manette was released, you, his old domestic, -had the charge of him, I know. He was delivered to you. You see I am -informed of the circumstances?" - -"Such is the fact, certainly," said Defarge. He had had it conveyed -to him, in an accidental touch of his wife's elbow as she knitted and -warbled, that he would do best to answer, but always with brevity. - -"It was to you," said the spy, "that his daughter came; and it was -from your care that his daughter took him, accompanied by a neat brown -monsieur; how is he called?--in a little wig--Lorry--of the bank of -Tellson and Company--over to England." - -"Such is the fact," repeated Defarge. - -"Very interesting remembrances!" said the spy. "I have known Doctor -Manette and his daughter, in England." - -"Yes?" said Defarge. - -"You don't hear much about them now?" said the spy. - -"No," said Defarge. - -"In effect," madame struck in, looking up from her work and her little -song, "we never hear about them. We received the news of their safe -arrival, and perhaps another letter, or perhaps two; but, since then, -they have gradually taken their road in life--we, ours--and we have held -no correspondence." - -"Perfectly so, madame," replied the spy. "She is going to be married." - -"Going?" echoed madame. "She was pretty enough to have been married long -ago. You English are cold, it seems to me." - -"Oh! You know I am English." - -"I perceive your tongue is," returned madame; "and what the tongue is, I -suppose the man is." - -He did not take the identification as a compliment; but he made the best -of it, and turned it off with a laugh. After sipping his cognac to the -end, he added: - -"Yes, Miss Manette is going to be married. But not to an Englishman; to -one who, like herself, is French by birth. And speaking of Gaspard (ah, -poor Gaspard! It was cruel, cruel!), it is a curious thing that she is -going to marry the nephew of Monsieur the Marquis, for whom Gaspard -was exalted to that height of so many feet; in other words, the present -Marquis. But he lives unknown in England, he is no Marquis there; he is -Mr. Charles Darnay. D'Aulnais is the name of his mother's family." - -Madame Defarge knitted steadily, but the intelligence had a palpable -effect upon her husband. Do what he would, behind the little counter, -as to the striking of a light and the lighting of his pipe, he was -troubled, and his hand was not trustworthy. The spy would have been no -spy if he had failed to see it, or to record it in his mind. - -Having made, at least, this one hit, whatever it might prove to be -worth, and no customers coming in to help him to any other, Mr. Barsad -paid for what he had drunk, and took his leave: taking occasion to say, -in a genteel manner, before he departed, that he looked forward to the -pleasure of seeing Monsieur and Madame Defarge again. For some minutes -after he had emerged into the outer presence of Saint Antoine, the -husband and wife remained exactly as he had left them, lest he should -come back. - -"Can it be true," said Defarge, in a low voice, looking down at his wife -as he stood smoking with his hand on the back of her chair: "what he has -said of Ma'amselle Manette?" - -"As he has said it," returned madame, lifting her eyebrows a little, "it -is probably false. But it may be true." - -"If it is--" Defarge began, and stopped. - -"If it is?" repeated his wife. - -"--And if it does come, while we live to see it triumph--I hope, for her -sake, Destiny will keep her husband out of France." - -"Her husband's destiny," said Madame Defarge, with her usual composure, -"will take him where he is to go, and will lead him to the end that is -to end him. That is all I know." - -"But it is very strange--now, at least, is it not very strange"--said -Defarge, rather pleading with his wife to induce her to admit it, -"that, after all our sympathy for Monsieur her father, and herself, her -husband's name should be proscribed under your hand at this moment, by -the side of that infernal dog's who has just left us?" - -"Stranger things than that will happen when it does come," answered -madame. "I have them both here, of a certainty; and they are both here -for their merits; that is enough." - -She rolled up her knitting when she had said those words, and presently -took the rose out of the handkerchief that was wound about her head. -Either Saint Antoine had an instinctive sense that the objectionable -decoration was gone, or Saint Antoine was on the watch for its -disappearance; howbeit, the Saint took courage to lounge in, very -shortly afterwards, and the wine-shop recovered its habitual aspect. - -In the evening, at which season of all others Saint Antoine turned -himself inside out, and sat on door-steps and window-ledges, and came -to the corners of vile streets and courts, for a breath of air, Madame -Defarge with her work in her hand was accustomed to pass from place -to place and from group to group: a Missionary--there were many like -her--such as the world will do well never to breed again. All the women -knitted. They knitted worthless things; but, the mechanical work was a -mechanical substitute for eating and drinking; the hands moved for the -jaws and the digestive apparatus: if the bony fingers had been still, -the stomachs would have been more famine-pinched. - -But, as the fingers went, the eyes went, and the thoughts. And as Madame -Defarge moved on from group to group, all three went quicker and fiercer -among every little knot of women that she had spoken with, and left -behind. - -Her husband smoked at his door, looking after her with admiration. "A -great woman," said he, "a strong woman, a grand woman, a frightfully -grand woman!" - -Darkness closed around, and then came the ringing of church bells and -the distant beating of the military drums in the Palace Courtyard, as -the women sat knitting, knitting. Darkness encompassed them. Another -darkness was closing in as surely, when the church bells, then ringing -pleasantly in many an airy steeple over France, should be melted into -thundering cannon; when the military drums should be beating to drown a -wretched voice, that night all potent as the voice of Power and Plenty, -Freedom and Life. So much was closing in about the women who sat -knitting, knitting, that they their very selves were closing in around -a structure yet unbuilt, where they were to sit knitting, knitting, -counting dropping heads. - - - - -XVII. One Night - - -Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in -Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter sat -under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder -radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still -seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves. - -Lucie was to be married to-morrow. She had reserved this last evening -for her father, and they sat alone under the plane-tree. - -"You are happy, my dear father?" - -"Quite, my child." - -They had said little, though they had been there a long time. When it -was yet light enough to work and read, she had neither engaged herself -in her usual work, nor had she read to him. She had employed herself in -both ways, at his side under the tree, many and many a time; but, this -time was not quite like any other, and nothing could make it so. - -"And I am very happy to-night, dear father. I am deeply happy in the -love that Heaven has so blessed--my love for Charles, and Charles's love -for me. But, if my life were not to be still consecrated to you, or -if my marriage were so arranged as that it would part us, even by -the length of a few of these streets, I should be more unhappy and -self-reproachful now than I can tell you. Even as it is--" - -Even as it was, she could not command her voice. - -In the sad moonlight, she clasped him by the neck, and laid her face -upon his breast. In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of -the sun itself is--as the light called human life is--at its coming and -its going. - -"Dearest dear! Can you tell me, this last time, that you feel quite, -quite sure, no new affections of mine, and no new duties of mine, will -ever interpose between us? _I_ know it well, but do you know it? In your -own heart, do you feel quite certain?" - -Her father answered, with a cheerful firmness of conviction he could -scarcely have assumed, "Quite sure, my darling! More than that," he -added, as he tenderly kissed her: "my future is far brighter, Lucie, -seen through your marriage, than it could have been--nay, than it ever -was--without it." - -"If I could hope _that_, my father!--" - -"Believe it, love! Indeed it is so. Consider how natural and how plain -it is, my dear, that it should be so. You, devoted and young, cannot -fully appreciate the anxiety I have felt that your life should not be -wasted--" - -She moved her hand towards his lips, but he took it in his, and repeated -the word. - -"--wasted, my child--should not be wasted, struck aside from the -natural order of things--for my sake. Your unselfishness cannot entirely -comprehend how much my mind has gone on this; but, only ask yourself, -how could 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 -me--rather, 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 way--have affected me with something as -like a sorrowful sense of peace, as any emotion that had pain for its -foundations could--I 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; the--the--image; 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 too--as you -have--but was not the same. Can you follow me, Lucie? Hardly, I think? -I doubt you must have been a solitary prisoner to understand these -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 full 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; but 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-bye, they went into the -house. - -There was no one bidden 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 -downstairs 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. - - - - -XVIII. Nine Days - - -The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outside the -closed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking with Charles -Darnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride, Mr. -Lorry, and Miss Pross--to whom the event, through a gradual process of -reconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolute bliss, -but for the yet lingering consideration that her brother Solomon should -have been the bridegroom. - -"And so," said Mr. Lorry, who could not sufficiently admire the bride, -and who had been moving round her to take in every point of her quiet, -pretty dress; "and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I brought -you across the Channel, such a baby! Lord bless me! How little I thought -what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was conferring -on my friend Mr. Charles!" - -"You didn't mean it," remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, "and -therefore how could you know it? Nonsense!" - -"Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry. - -"I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "_you_ are." - -"I, my Pross?" (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with her, -on occasion.) - -"You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such -a present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into -anybody's eyes. There's not a fork or a spoon in the collection," said -Miss Pross, "that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came, till -I couldn't see it." - -"I am highly gratified," said Mr. Lorry, "though, upon my honour, I -had no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembrance -invisible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a man -speculate on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that there -might have been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!" - -"Not at all!" From Miss Pross. - -"You think there never might have been a Mrs. Lorry?" asked the -gentleman of that name. - -"Pooh!" rejoined Miss Pross; "you were a bachelor in your cradle." - -"Well!" observed Mr. Lorry, beamingly adjusting his little wig, "that -seems probable, too." - -"And you were cut out for a bachelor," pursued Miss Pross, "before you -were put in your cradle." - -"Then, I think," said Mr. Lorry, "that I was very unhandsomely dealt -with, and that I ought to have had a voice in the selection of my -pattern. Enough! Now, my dear Lucie," drawing his arm soothingly round -her waist, "I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Pross and -I, as two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose the final -opportunity of saying something to you that you wish to hear. You leave -your good father, my dear, in hands as earnest and as loving as your -own; he shall be taken every conceivable care of; during the next -fortnight, while you are in Warwickshire and thereabouts, even Tellson's -shall go to the wall (comparatively speaking) before him. And when, at -the fortnight's end, he comes to join you and your beloved husband, on -your other fortnight's trip in Wales, you shall say that we have sent -him to you in the best health and in the happiest frame. Now, I hear -Somebody's step coming to the door. Let me kiss my dear girl with an -old-fashioned bachelor blessing, before Somebody comes to claim his -own." - -For a moment, he held the fair face from him to look at the -well-remembered expression on the forehead, and then laid the bright -golden hair against his little brown wig, with a genuine tenderness and -delicacy which, if such things be old-fashioned, were as old as Adam. - -The door of the Doctor's room opened, and he came out with Charles -Darnay. He was so deadly pale--which had not been the case when they -went in together--that no vestige of colour was to be seen in his face. -But, in the composure of his manner he was unaltered, except that to the -shrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed some shadowy indication that the -old air of avoidance and dread had lately passed over him, like a cold -wind. - -He gave his arm to his daughter, and took her down-stairs to the chariot -which Mr. Lorry had hired in honour of the day. The rest followed in -another carriage, and soon, in a neighbouring church, where no strange -eyes looked on, Charles Darnay and Lucie Manette were happily married. - -Besides the glancing tears that shone among the smiles of the little -group when it was done, some diamonds, very bright and sparkling, -glanced on the bride's hand, which were newly released from the -dark obscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pockets. They returned home to -breakfast, and all went well, and in due course the golden hair that had -mingled with the poor shoemaker's white locks in the Paris garret, were -mingled with them again in the morning sunlight, on the threshold of the -door at parting. - -It was a hard parting, though it was not for long. But her father -cheered her, and said at last, gently disengaging himself from her -enfolding arms, "Take her, Charles! She is yours!" - -And her agitated hand waved to them from a chaise window, and she was -gone. - -The corner being out of the way of the idle and curious, and the -preparations having been very simple and few, the Doctor, Mr. Lorry, -and Miss Pross, were left quite alone. It was when they turned into -the welcome shade of the cool old hall, that Mr. Lorry observed a great -change to have come over the Doctor; as if the golden arm uplifted -there, had struck him a poisoned blow. - -He had naturally repressed much, and some revulsion might have been -expected in him when the occasion for repression was gone. But, it was -the old scared lost look that troubled Mr. Lorry; and through his absent -manner of clasping his head and drearily wandering away into his own -room when they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was reminded of Defarge the -wine-shop keeper, and the starlight ride. - -"I think," he whispered to Miss Pross, after anxious consideration, "I -think we had best not speak to him just now, or at all disturb him. -I must look in at Tellson's; so I will go there at once and come back -presently. Then, we will take him a ride into the country, and dine -there, and all will be well." - -It was easier for Mr. Lorry to look in at Tellson's, than to look out of -Tellson's. He was detained two hours. When he came back, he ascended the -old staircase alone, having asked no question of the servant; going thus -into the Doctor's rooms, he was stopped by a low sound of knocking. - -"Good God!" he said, with a start. "What's that?" - -Miss Pross, with a terrified face, was at his ear. "O me, O me! All is -lost!" cried she, wringing her hands. "What is to be told to Ladybird? -He doesn't know me, and is making shoes!" - -Mr. Lorry said what he could to calm her, and went himself into the -Doctor's room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it had been -when he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his head was bent -down, and he was very busy. - -"Doctor Manette. My dear friend, Doctor Manette!" - -The Doctor looked at him for a moment--half inquiringly, half as if he -were angry at being spoken to--and bent over his work again. - -He had laid aside his coat and waistcoat; his shirt was open at the -throat, as it used to be when he did that work; and even the old -haggard, faded surface of face had come back to him. He worked -hard--impatiently--as if in some sense of having been interrupted. - -Mr. Lorry glanced at the work in his hand, and observed that it was a -shoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lying by -him, and asked what it was. - -"A young lady's walking shoe," he muttered, without looking up. "It -ought to have been finished long ago. Let it be." - -"But, Doctor Manette. Look at me!" - -He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, without pausing in -his work. - -"You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your proper -occupation. Think, dear friend!" - -Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an instant at -a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no persuasion would extract -a word from him. He worked, and worked, and worked, in silence, and -words fell on him as they would have fallen on an echoless wall, or on -the air. The only ray of hope that Mr. Lorry could discover, was, that -he sometimes furtively looked up without being asked. In that, there -seemed a faint expression of curiosity or perplexity--as though he were -trying to reconcile some doubts in his mind. - -Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as important above -all others; the first, that this must be kept secret from Lucie; -the second, that it must be kept secret from all who knew him. In -conjunction with Miss Pross, he took immediate steps towards the latter -precaution, by giving out that the Doctor was not well, and required a -few days of complete rest. In aid of the kind deception to be practised -on his daughter, Miss Pross was to write, describing his having been -called away professionally, and referring to an imaginary letter of -two or three hurried lines in his own hand, represented to have been -addressed to her by the same post. - -These measures, advisable to be taken in any case, Mr. Lorry took in -the hope of his coming to himself. If that should happen soon, he kept -another course in reserve; which was, to have a certain opinion that he -thought the best, on the Doctor's case. - -In the hope of his recovery, and of resort to this third course -being thereby rendered practicable, Mr. Lorry resolved to watch him -attentively, with as little appearance as possible of doing so. He -therefore made arrangements to absent himself from Tellson's for the -first time in his life, and took his post by the window in the same -room. - -He was not long in discovering that it was worse than useless to speak -to him, since, on being pressed, he became worried. He abandoned that -attempt on the first day, and resolved merely to keep himself always -before him, as a silent protest against the delusion into which he had -fallen, or was falling. He remained, therefore, in his seat near the -window, reading and writing, and expressing in as many pleasant and -natural ways as he could think of, that it was a free place. - -Doctor Manette took what was given him to eat and drink, and worked on, -that first day, until it was too dark to see--worked on, half an hour -after Mr. Lorry could not have seen, for his life, to read or write. -When he put his tools aside as useless, until morning, Mr. Lorry rose -and said to him: - -"Will you go out?" - -He looked down at the floor on either side of him in the old manner, -looked up in the old manner, and repeated in the old low voice: - -"Out?" - -"Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?" - -He made no effort to say why not, and said not a word more. But, Mr. -Lorry thought he saw, as he leaned forward on his bench in the dusk, -with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, that he was in -some misty way asking himself, "Why not?" The sagacity of the man of -business perceived an advantage here, and determined to hold it. - -Miss Pross and he divided the night into two watches, and observed him -at intervals from the adjoining room. He paced up and down for a long -time before he lay down; but, when he did finally lay himself down, he -fell asleep. In the morning, he was up betimes, and went straight to his -bench and to work. - -On this second day, Mr. Lorry saluted him cheerfully by his name, -and spoke to him on topics that had been of late familiar to them. He -returned no reply, but it was evident that he heard what was said, and -that he thought about it, however confusedly. This encouraged Mr. Lorry -to have Miss Pross in with her work, several times during the day; -at those times, they quietly spoke of Lucie, and of her father then -present, precisely in the usual manner, and as if there were nothing -amiss. This was done without any demonstrative accompaniment, not long -enough, or often enough to harass him; and it lightened Mr. Lorry's -friendly heart to believe that he looked up oftener, and that he -appeared to be stirred by some perception of inconsistencies surrounding -him. - -When it fell dark again, Mr. Lorry asked him as before: - -"Dear Doctor, will you go out?" - -As before, he repeated, "Out?" - -"Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?" - -This time, Mr. Lorry feigned to go out when he could extract no answer -from him, and, after remaining absent for an hour, returned. In the -meanwhile, the Doctor had removed to the seat in the window, and had -sat there looking down at the plane-tree; but, on Mr. Lorry's return, he -slipped away to his bench. - -The time went very slowly on, and Mr. Lorry's hope darkened, and his -heart grew heavier again, and grew yet heavier and heavier every day. -The third day came and went, the fourth, the fifth. Five days, six days, -seven days, eight days, nine days. - -With a hope ever darkening, and with a heart always growing heavier and -heavier, Mr. Lorry passed through this anxious time. The secret was -well kept, and Lucie was unconscious and happy; but he could not fail to -observe that the shoemaker, whose hand had been a little out at first, -was growing dreadfully skilful, and that he had never been so intent on -his work, and that his hands had never been so nimble and expert, as in -the dusk of the ninth evening. - - - - -XIX. An Opinion - - -Worn out by anxious watching, Mr. Lorry fell asleep at his post. On the -tenth morning of his suspense, he was startled by the shining of the sun -into the room where a heavy slumber had overtaken him when it was dark -night. - -He rubbed his eyes and roused himself; but he doubted, when he had -done so, whether he was not still asleep. For, going to the door of the -Doctor's room and looking in, he perceived that the shoemaker's bench -and tools were put aside again, and that the Doctor himself sat reading -at the window. He was in his usual morning dress, and his face (which -Mr. Lorry could distinctly see), though still very pale, was calmly -studious and attentive. - -Even when he had satisfied himself that he was awake, Mr. Lorry felt -giddily uncertain for some few moments whether the late shoemaking might -not be a disturbed dream of his own; for, did not his eyes show him his -friend before him in his accustomed clothing and aspect, and employed -as usual; and was there any sign within their range, that the change of -which he had so strong an impression had actually happened? - -It was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, the -answer being obvious. If the impression were not produced by a real -corresponding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there? -How came he to have fallen asleep, in his clothes, on the sofa in Doctor -Manette's consulting-room, and to be debating these points outside the -Doctor's bedroom door in the early morning? - -Within a few minutes, Miss Pross stood whispering at his side. If he -had had any particle of doubt left, her talk would of necessity have -resolved it; but he was by that time clear-headed, and had none. -He advised that they should let the time go by until the regular -breakfast-hour, and should then meet the Doctor as if nothing unusual -had occurred. If he appeared to be in his customary state of mind, Mr. -Lorry would then cautiously proceed to seek direction and guidance from -the opinion he had been, in his anxiety, so anxious to obtain. - -Miss Pross, submitting herself to his judgment, the scheme was worked -out with care. Having abundance of time for his usual methodical -toilette, Mr. Lorry presented himself at the breakfast-hour in his usual -white linen, and with his usual neat leg. The Doctor was summoned in the -usual way, and came to breakfast. - -So far as it was possible to comprehend him without overstepping those -delicate and gradual approaches which Mr. Lorry felt to be the only safe -advance, he at first supposed that his daughter's marriage had taken -place yesterday. An incidental allusion, purposely thrown out, to -the day of the week, and the day of the month, set him thinking and -counting, and evidently made him uneasy. In all other respects, however, -he was so composedly himself, that Mr. Lorry determined to have the aid -he sought. And that aid was his own. - -Therefore, when the breakfast was done and cleared away, and he and the -Doctor were left together, Mr. Lorry said, feelingly: - -"My dear Manette, I am anxious to have your opinion, in confidence, on a -very curious case in which I am deeply interested; that is to say, it is -very curious to me; perhaps, to your better information it may be less -so." - -Glancing at his hands, which were discoloured by his late work, the -Doctor looked troubled, and listened attentively. He had already glanced -at his hands more than once. - -"Doctor Manette," said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on the -arm, "the case is the case of a particularly dear friend of mine. Pray -give your mind to it, and advise me well for his sake--and above all, -for his daughter's--his daughter's, my dear Manette." - -"If I understand," said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, "some mental -shock--?" - -"Yes!" - -"Be explicit," said the Doctor. "Spare no detail." - -Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded. - -"My dear Manette, it is the case of an old and a prolonged shock, -of great acuteness and severity to the affections, the feelings, -the--the--as you express it--the mind. The mind. It is the case of a -shock under which the sufferer was borne down, one cannot say for how -long, because I believe he cannot calculate the time himself, and there -are no other means of getting at it. It is the case of a shock from -which the sufferer recovered, by a process that he cannot trace -himself--as I once heard him publicly relate in a striking manner. It is -the case of a shock from which he has recovered, so completely, as to -be a highly intelligent man, capable of close application of mind, and -great exertion of body, and of constantly making fresh additions to his -stock of knowledge, which was already very large. But, unfortunately, -there has been," he paused and took a deep breath--"a slight relapse." - -The Doctor, in a low voice, asked, "Of how long duration?" - -"Nine days and nights." - -"How did it show itself? I infer," glancing at his hands again, "in the -resumption of some old pursuit connected with the shock?" - -"That is the fact." - -"Now, did you ever see him," asked the Doctor, distinctly and -collectedly, though in the same low voice, "engaged in that pursuit -originally?" - -"Once." - -"And when the relapse fell on him, was he in most respects--or in all -respects--as he was then?" - -"I think in all respects." - -"You spoke of his daughter. Does his daughter know of the relapse?" - -"No. It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from her. -It is known only to myself, and to one other who may be trusted." - -The Doctor grasped his hand, and murmured, "That was very kind. That was -very thoughtful!" Mr. Lorry grasped his hand in return, and neither of -the two spoke for a little while. - -"Now, my dear Manette," said Mr. Lorry, at length, in his most -considerate and most affectionate way, "I am a mere man of business, -and unfit to cope with such intricate and difficult matters. I do not -possess the kind of information necessary; I do not possess the kind of -intelligence; I want guiding. There is no man in this world on whom -I could so rely for right guidance, as on you. Tell me, how does this -relapse come about? Is there danger of another? Could a repetition of it -be prevented? How should a repetition of it be treated? How does it come -about at all? What can I do for my friend? No man ever can have been -more desirous in his heart to serve a friend, than I am to serve mine, -if I knew how. - -"But I don't know how to originate, in such a case. If your sagacity, -knowledge, and experience, could put me on the right track, I might be -able to do so much; unenlightened and undirected, I can do so little. -Pray discuss it with me; pray enable me to see it a little more clearly, -and teach me how to be a little more useful." - -Doctor Manette sat meditating after these earnest words were spoken, and -Mr. Lorry did not press him. - -"I think it probable," said the Doctor, breaking silence with an effort, -"that the relapse you have described, my dear friend, was not quite -unforeseen by its subject." - -"Was it dreaded by him?" Mr. Lorry ventured to ask. - -"Very much." He said it with an involuntary shudder. - -"You have no idea how such an apprehension weighs on the sufferer's -mind, and how difficult--how almost impossible--it is, for him to force -himself to utter a word upon the topic that oppresses him." - -"Would he," asked Mr. Lorry, "be sensibly relieved if he could prevail -upon himself to impart that secret brooding to any one, when it is on -him?" - -"I think so. But it is, as I have told you, next to impossible. I even -believe it--in some cases--to be quite impossible." - -"Now," said Mr. Lorry, gently laying his hand on the Doctor's arm again, -after a short silence on both sides, "to what would you refer this -attack?" - -"I believe," returned Doctor Manette, "that there had been a strong and -extraordinary revival of the train of thought and remembrance that -was the first cause of the malady. Some intense associations of a most -distressing nature were vividly recalled, I think. It is probable that -there had long been a dread lurking in his mind, that those associations -would be recalled--say, under certain circumstances--say, on a -particular occasion. He tried to prepare himself in vain; perhaps the -effort to prepare himself made him less able to bear it." - -"Would he remember what took place in the relapse?" asked Mr. Lorry, -with natural hesitation. - -The Doctor looked desolately round the room, shook his head, and -answered, in a low voice, "Not at all." - -"Now, as to the future," hinted Mr. Lorry. - -"As to the future," said the Doctor, recovering firmness, "I should have -great hope. As it pleased Heaven in its mercy to restore him so soon, I -should have great hope. He, yielding under the pressure of a complicated -something, long dreaded and long vaguely foreseen and contended against, -and recovering after the cloud had burst and passed, I should hope that -the worst was over." - -"Well, well! That's good comfort. I am thankful!" said Mr. Lorry. - -"I am thankful!" repeated the Doctor, bending his head with reverence. - -"There are two other points," said Mr. Lorry, "on which I am anxious to -be instructed. I may go on?" - -"You cannot do your friend a better service." The Doctor gave him his -hand. - -"To the first, then. He is of a studious habit, and unusually energetic; -he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisition of professional -knowledge, to the conducting of experiments, to many things. Now, does -he do too much?" - -"I think not. It may be the character of his mind, to be always in -singular need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; in -part, the result of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthy -things, the more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthy -direction. He may have observed himself, and made the discovery." - -"You are sure that he is not under too great a strain?" - -"I think I am quite sure of it." - -"My dear Manette, if he were overworked now--" - -"My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be. There has been a -violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight." - -"Excuse me, as a persistent man of business. Assuming for a moment, -that he _was_ overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of this -disorder?" - -"I do not think so. I do not think," said Doctor Manette with the -firmness of self-conviction, "that anything but the one train of -association would renew it. I think that, henceforth, nothing but some -extraordinary jarring of that chord could renew it. After what has -happened, and after his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine any -such violent sounding of that string again. I trust, and I almost -believe, that the circumstances likely to renew it are exhausted." - -He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thing -would overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with the -confidence of a man who had slowly won his assurance out of personal -endurance and distress. It was not for his friend to abate that -confidence. He professed himself more relieved and encouraged than he -really was, and approached his second and last point. He felt it to -be the most difficult of all; but, remembering his old Sunday morning -conversation with Miss Pross, and remembering what he had seen in the -last nine days, he knew that he must face it. - -"The occupation resumed under the influence of this passing affliction -so happily recovered from," said Mr. Lorry, clearing his throat, "we -will call--Blacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work. We will say, to put a -case and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad -time, to work at a little forge. We will say that he was unexpectedly -found at his forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it by -him?" - -The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his foot -nervously on the ground. - -"He has always kept it by him," said Mr. Lorry, with an anxious look at -his friend. "Now, would it not be better that he should let it go?" - -Still, the Doctor, with shaded forehead, beat his foot nervously on the -ground. - -"You do not find it easy to advise me?" said Mr. Lorry. "I quite -understand it to be a nice question. And yet I think--" And there he -shook his head, and stopped. - -"You see," said Doctor Manette, turning to him after an uneasy pause, -"it is very hard to explain, consistently, the innermost workings -of this poor man's mind. He once yearned so frightfully for that -occupation, and it was so welcome when it came; no doubt it relieved -his pain so much, by substituting the perplexity of the fingers for -the perplexity of the brain, and by substituting, as he became more -practised, the ingenuity of the hands, for the ingenuity of the mental -torture; that he has never been able to bear the thought of putting it -quite out of his reach. Even now, when I believe he is more hopeful of -himself than he has ever been, and even speaks of himself with a kind -of confidence, the idea that he might need that old employment, and not -find it, gives him a sudden sense of terror, like that which one may -fancy strikes to the heart of a lost child." - -He looked like his illustration, as he raised his eyes to Mr. Lorry's -face. - -"But may not--mind! I ask for information, as a plodding man of business -who only deals with such material objects as guineas, shillings, and -bank-notes--may not the retention of the thing involve the retention of -the idea? If the thing were gone, my dear Manette, might not the fear go -with it? In short, is it not a concession to the misgiving, to keep the -forge?" - -There was another silence. - -"You see, too," said the Doctor, tremulously, "it is such an old -companion." - -"I would not keep it," said Mr. Lorry, shaking his head; for he gained -in firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted. "I would recommend him to -sacrifice it. I only want your authority. I am sure it does no good. -Come! Give me your authority, like a dear good man. For his daughter's -sake, my dear Manette!" - -Very strange to see what a struggle there was within him! - -"In her name, then, let it be done; I sanction it. But, I would not take -it away while he was present. Let it be removed when he is not there; -let him miss his old companion after an absence." - -Mr. Lorry readily engaged for that, and the conference was ended. They -passed the day in the country, and the Doctor was quite restored. On the -three following days he remained perfectly well, and on the fourteenth -day he went away to join Lucie and her husband. The precaution that -had been taken to account for his silence, Mr. Lorry had previously -explained to him, and he had written to Lucie in accordance with it, and -she had no suspicions. - -On the night of the day on which he left the house, Mr. Lorry went into -his room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer, attended by Miss Pross -carrying a light. There, with closed doors, and in a mysterious and -guilty manner, Mr. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, while -Miss Pross held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder--for -which, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure. The -burning of the body (previously reduced to pieces convenient for the -purpose) was commenced without delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools, -shoes, and leather, were buried in the garden. So wicked do destruction -and secrecy appear to honest minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross, -while engaged in the commission of their deed and in the removal of its -traces, almost felt, and almost looked, like accomplices in a horrible -crime. - - - - -XX. A Plea - - -When the newly-married pair came home, the first person who appeared, to -offer his congratulations, was Sydney Carton. They had not been at home -many hours, when he presented himself. He was not improved in habits, or -in looks, or in manner; but there was a certain rugged air of fidelity -about him, which was new to the observation of Charles Darnay. - -He watched his opportunity of taking Darnay aside into a window, and of -speaking to him when no one overheard. - -"Mr. Darnay," said Carton, "I wish we might be friends." - -"We are already friends, I hope." - -"You are good enough to say so, as a fashion of speech; but, I don't -mean any fashion of speech. Indeed, when I say I wish we might be -friends, I scarcely mean quite that, either." - -Charles Darnay--as was natural--asked him, in all good-humour and -good-fellowship, what he did mean? - -"Upon my life," said Carton, smiling, "I find that easier to comprehend -in my own mind, than to convey to yours. However, let me try. You -remember a certain famous occasion when I was more drunk than--than -usual?" - -"I remember a certain famous occasion when you forced me to confess that -you had been drinking." - -"I remember it too. The curse of those occasions is heavy upon me, for I -always remember them. I hope it may be taken into account one day, -when all days are at an end for me! Don't be alarmed; I am not going to -preach." - -"I am not at all alarmed. Earnestness in you, is anything but alarming -to me." - -"Ah!" said Carton, with a careless wave of his hand, as if he waved that -away. "On the drunken occasion in question (one of a large number, as -you know), I was insufferable about liking you, and not liking you. I -wish you would forget it." - -"I forgot it long ago." - -"Fashion of speech again! But, Mr. Darnay, oblivion is not so easy to -me, as you represent it to be to you. I have by no means forgotten it, -and a light answer does not help me to forget it." - -"If it was a light answer," returned Darnay, "I beg your forgiveness -for it. I had no other object than to turn a slight thing, which, to my -surprise, seems to trouble you too much, aside. I declare to you, on the -faith of a gentleman, that I have long dismissed it from my mind. Good -Heaven, what was there to dismiss! Have I had nothing more important to -remember, in the great service you rendered me that day?" - -"As to the great service," said Carton, "I am bound to avow to you, when -you speak of it in that way, that it was mere professional claptrap, I -don't know that I cared what became of you, when I rendered it.--Mind! I -say when I rendered it; I am speaking of the past." - -"You make light of the obligation," returned Darnay, "but I will not -quarrel with _your_ light answer." - -"Genuine truth, Mr. Darnay, trust me! I have gone aside from my purpose; -I was speaking about our being friends. Now, you know me; you know I am -incapable of all the higher and better flights of men. If you doubt it, -ask Stryver, and he'll tell you so." - -"I prefer to form my own opinion, without the aid of his." - -"Well! At any rate you know me as a dissolute dog, who has never done -any good, and never will." - -"I don't know that you 'never will.'" - -"But I do, and you must take my word for it. Well! If you could endure -to have such a worthless fellow, and a fellow of such indifferent -reputation, coming and going at odd times, I should ask that I might be -permitted to come and go as a privileged person here; that I might -be regarded as an useless (and I would add, if it were not for the -resemblance I detected between you and me, an unornamental) piece of -furniture, tolerated for its old service, and taken no notice of. I -doubt if I should abuse the permission. It is a hundred to one if I -should avail myself of it four times in a year. It would satisfy me, I -dare say, to know that I had it." - -"Will you try?" - -"That is another way of saying that I am placed on the footing I have -indicated. I thank you, Darnay. I may use that freedom with your name?" - -"I think so, Carton, by this time." - -They shook hands upon it, and Sydney turned away. Within a minute -afterwards, he was, to all outward appearance, as unsubstantial as ever. - -When he was gone, and in the course of an evening passed with Miss -Pross, the Doctor, and Mr. Lorry, Charles Darnay made some mention of -this conversation in general terms, and spoke of Sydney Carton as a -problem of carelessness and recklessness. He spoke of him, in short, not -bitterly or meaning to bear hard upon him, but as anybody might who saw -him as he showed himself. - -He had no idea that this could dwell in the thoughts of his fair young -wife; but, when he afterwards joined her in their own rooms, he found -her waiting for him with the old pretty lifting of the forehead strongly -marked. - -"We are thoughtful to-night!" said Darnay, drawing his arm about her. - -"Yes, dearest Charles," with her hands on his breast, and the inquiring -and attentive expression fixed upon him; "we are rather thoughtful -to-night, for we have something on our mind to-night." - -"What is it, my Lucie?" - -"Will you promise not to press one question on me, if I beg you not to -ask it?" - -"Will I promise? What will I not promise to my Love?" - -What, indeed, with his hand putting aside the golden hair from the -cheek, and his other hand against the heart that beat for him! - -"I think, Charles, poor Mr. Carton deserves more consideration and -respect than you expressed for him to-night." - -"Indeed, my own? Why so?" - -"That is what you are not to ask me. But I think--I know--he does." - -"If you know it, it is enough. What would you have me do, my Life?" - -"I would ask you, dearest, to be very generous with him always, and very -lenient on his faults when he is not by. I would ask you to believe that -he has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and that there are deep -wounds in it. My dear, I have seen it bleeding." - -"It is a painful reflection to me," said Charles Darnay, quite -astounded, "that I should have done him any wrong. I never thought this -of him." - -"My husband, it is so. I fear he is not to be reclaimed; there is -scarcely a hope that anything in his character or fortunes is reparable -now. But, I am sure that he is capable of good things, gentle things, -even magnanimous things." - -She looked so beautiful in the purity of her faith in this lost man, -that her husband could have looked at her as she was for hours. - -"And, O my dearest Love!" she urged, clinging nearer to him, laying her -head upon his breast, and raising her eyes to his, "remember how strong -we are in our happiness, and how weak he is in his misery!" - -The supplication touched him home. "I will always remember it, dear -Heart! I will remember it as long as I live." - -He bent over the golden head, and put the rosy lips to his, and folded -her in his arms. If one forlorn wanderer then pacing the dark streets, -could have heard her innocent disclosure, and could have seen the drops -of pity kissed away by her husband from the soft blue eyes so loving of -that husband, he might have cried to the night--and the words would not -have parted from his lips for the first time-- - -"God bless her for her sweet compassion!" - - - - -XXI. Echoing Footsteps - - -A wonderful corner for echoes, it has been remarked, that corner where -the Doctor lived. Ever busily winding the golden thread which bound -her husband, and her father, and herself, and her old directress and -companion, in a life of quiet bliss, Lucie sat in the still house in -the tranquilly resounding corner, listening to the echoing footsteps of -years. - -At first, there were times, though she was a perfectly happy young wife, -when her work would slowly fall from her hands, and her eyes would be -dimmed. For, there was something coming in the echoes, something light, -afar off, and scarcely audible yet, that stirred her heart too much. -Fluttering hopes and doubts--hopes, of a love as yet unknown to her: -doubts, of her remaining upon earth, to enjoy that new delight--divided -her breast. Among the echoes then, there would arise the sound of -footsteps at her own early grave; and thoughts of the husband who would -be left so desolate, and who would mourn for her so much, swelled to her -eyes, and broke like waves. - -That time passed, and her little Lucie lay on her bosom. Then, among the -advancing echoes, there was the tread of her tiny feet and the sound of -her prattling words. Let greater echoes resound as they would, the young -mother at the cradle side could always hear those coming. They came, and -the shady house was sunny with a child's laugh, and the Divine friend of -children, to whom in her trouble she had confided hers, seemed to take -her child in his arms, as He took the child of old, and made it a sacred -joy to her. - -Ever busily winding the golden thread that bound them all together, -weaving the service of her happy influence through the tissue of all -their lives, and making it predominate nowhere, Lucie heard in the -echoes of years none but friendly and soothing sounds. Her husband's -step was strong and prosperous among them; her father's firm and equal. -Lo, Miss Pross, in harness of string, awakening the echoes, as an -unruly charger, whip-corrected, snorting and pawing the earth under the -plane-tree in the garden! - -Even when there were sounds of sorrow among the rest, they were not -harsh nor cruel. Even when golden hair, like her own, lay in a halo on a -pillow round the worn face of a little boy, and he said, with a radiant -smile, "Dear papa and mamma, I am very sorry to leave you both, and to -leave my pretty sister; but I am called, and I must go!" those were not -tears all of agony that wetted his young mother's cheek, as the spirit -departed from her embrace that had been entrusted to it. Suffer them and -forbid them not. They see my Father's face. O Father, blessed words! - -Thus, the rustling of an Angel's wings got blended with the other -echoes, and they were not wholly of earth, but had in them that breath -of Heaven. Sighs of the winds that blew over a little garden-tomb were -mingled with them also, and both were audible to Lucie, in a hushed -murmur--like the breathing of a summer sea asleep upon a sandy shore--as -the little Lucie, comically studious at the task of the morning, or -dressing a doll at her mother's footstool, chattered in the tongues of -the Two Cities that were blended in her life. - -The Echoes rarely answered to the actual tread of Sydney Carton. Some -half-dozen times a year, at most, he claimed his privilege of coming in -uninvited, and would sit among them through the evening, as he had once -done often. He never came there heated with wine. And one other thing -regarding him was whispered in the echoes, which has been whispered by -all true echoes for ages and ages. - -No man ever really loved a woman, lost her, and knew her with a -blameless though an unchanged mind, when she was a wife and a mother, -but her children had a strange sympathy with him--an instinctive -delicacy of pity for him. What fine hidden sensibilities are touched in -such a case, no echoes tell; but it is so, and it was so here. Carton -was the first stranger to whom little Lucie held out her chubby arms, -and he kept his place with her as she grew. The little boy had spoken of -him, almost at the last. "Poor Carton! Kiss him for me!" - -Mr. Stryver shouldered his way through the law, like some great engine -forcing itself through turbid water, and dragged his useful friend in -his wake, like a boat towed astern. As the boat so favoured is usually -in a rough plight, and mostly under water, so, Sydney had a swamped -life of it. But, easy and strong custom, unhappily so much easier and -stronger in him than any stimulating sense of desert or disgrace, made -it the life he was to lead; and he no more thought of emerging from his -state of lion's jackal, than any real jackal may be supposed to think of -rising to be a lion. Stryver was rich; had married a florid widow with -property and three boys, who had nothing particularly shining about them -but the straight hair of their dumpling heads. - -These three young gentlemen, Mr. Stryver, exuding patronage of the most -offensive quality from every pore, had walked before him like three -sheep to the quiet corner in Soho, and had offered as pupils to -Lucie's husband: delicately saying "Halloa! here are three lumps of -bread-and-cheese towards your matrimonial picnic, Darnay!" The polite -rejection of the three lumps of bread-and-cheese had quite bloated Mr. -Stryver with indignation, which he afterwards turned to account in the -training of the young gentlemen, by directing them to beware of the -pride of Beggars, like that tutor-fellow. He was also in the habit of -declaiming to Mrs. Stryver, over his full-bodied wine, on the arts -Mrs. Darnay had once put in practice to "catch" him, and on the -diamond-cut-diamond arts in himself, madam, which had rendered him "not -to be caught." Some of his King's Bench familiars, who were occasionally -parties to the full-bodied wine and the lie, excused him for the -latter by saying that he had told it so often, that he believed -it himself--which is surely such an incorrigible aggravation of an -originally bad offence, as to justify any such offender's being carried -off to some suitably retired spot, and there hanged out of the way. - -These were among the echoes to which Lucie, sometimes pensive, sometimes -amused and laughing, listened in the echoing corner, until her little -daughter was six years old. How near to her heart the echoes of her -child's tread came, and those of her own dear father's, always active -and self-possessed, and those of her dear husband's, need not be told. -Nor, how the lightest echo of their united home, directed by herself -with such a wise and elegant thrift that it was more abundant than any -waste, was music to her. Nor, how there were echoes all about her, sweet -in her ears, of the many times her father had told her that he found her -more devoted to him married (if that could be) than single, and of the -many times her husband had said to her that no cares and duties seemed -to divide her love for him or her help to him, and asked her "What is -the magic secret, my darling, of your being everything to all of us, -as if there were only one of us, yet never seeming to be hurried, or to -have too much to do?" - -But, there were other echoes, from a distance, that rumbled menacingly -in the corner all through this space of time. And it was now, about -little Lucie's sixth birthday, that they began to have an awful sound, -as of a great storm in France with a dreadful sea rising. - -On a night in mid-July, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine, Mr. -Lorry came in late, from Tellson's, and sat himself down by Lucie and -her husband in the dark window. It was a hot, wild night, and they were -all three reminded of the old Sunday night when they had looked at the -lightning from the same place. - -"I began to think," said Mr. Lorry, pushing his brown wig back, "that -I should have to pass the night at Tellson's. We have been so full of -business all day, that we have not known what to do first, or which way -to turn. There is such an uneasiness in Paris, that we have actually a -run of confidence upon us! Our customers over there, seem not to be able -to confide their property to us fast enough. There is positively a mania -among some of them for sending it to England." - -"That has a bad look," said Darnay-- - -"A bad look, you say, my dear Darnay? Yes, but we don't know what reason -there is in it. People are so unreasonable! Some of us at Tellson's are -getting old, and we really can't be troubled out of the ordinary course -without due occasion." - -"Still," said Darnay, "you know how gloomy and threatening the sky is." - -"I know that, to be sure," assented Mr. Lorry, trying to persuade -himself that his sweet temper was soured, and that he grumbled, "but I -am determined to be peevish after my long day's botheration. Where is -Manette?" - -"Here he is," said the Doctor, entering the dark room at the moment. - -"I am quite glad you are at home; for these hurries and forebodings by -which I have been surrounded all day long, have made me nervous without -reason. You are not going out, I hope?" - -"No; I am going to play backgammon with you, if you like," said the -Doctor. - -"I don't think I do like, if I may speak my mind. I am not fit to be -pitted against you to-night. Is the teaboard still there, Lucie? I can't -see." - -"Of course, it has been kept for you." - -"Thank ye, my dear. The precious child is safe in bed?" - -"And sleeping soundly." - -"That's right; all safe and well! I don't know why anything should be -otherwise than safe and well here, thank God; but I have been so put out -all day, and I am not as young as I was! My tea, my dear! Thank ye. Now, -come and take your place in the circle, and let us sit quiet, and hear -the echoes about which you have your theory." - -"Not a theory; it was a fancy." - -"A fancy, then, my wise pet," said Mr. Lorry, patting her hand. "They -are very numerous and very loud, though, are they not? Only hear them!" - -Headlong, mad, and dangerous footsteps to force their way into anybody's -life, footsteps not easily made clean again if once stained red, the -footsteps raging in Saint Antoine afar off, as the little circle sat in -the dark London window. - -Saint Antoine had been, that morning, a vast dusky mass of scarecrows -heaving to and fro, with frequent gleams of light above the billowy -heads, where steel blades and bayonets shone in the sun. A tremendous -roar arose from the throat of Saint Antoine, and a forest of naked arms -struggled in the air like shrivelled branches of trees in a winter wind: -all the fingers convulsively clutching at every weapon or semblance of a -weapon that was thrown up from the depths below, no matter how far off. - -Who gave them out, whence they last came, where they began, through what -agency they crookedly quivered and jerked, scores at a time, over the -heads of the crowd, like a kind of lightning, no eye in the throng could -have told; but, muskets were being distributed--so were cartridges, -powder, and ball, bars of iron and wood, knives, axes, pikes, every -weapon that distracted ingenuity could discover or devise. People who -could lay hold of nothing else, set themselves with bleeding hands to -force stones and bricks out of their places in walls. Every pulse and -heart in Saint Antoine was on high-fever strain and at high-fever heat. -Every living creature there held life as of no account, and was demented -with a passionate readiness to sacrifice it. - -As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a centre point, so, all this raging -circled round Defarge's wine-shop, and every human drop in the caldron -had a tendency to be sucked towards the vortex where Defarge himself, -already begrimed with gunpowder and sweat, issued orders, issued arms, -thrust this man back, dragged this man forward, disarmed one to arm -another, laboured and strove in the thickest of the uproar. - -"Keep near to me, Jacques Three," cried Defarge; "and do you, Jacques -One and Two, separate and put yourselves at the head of as many of these -patriots as you can. Where is my wife?" - -"Eh, well! Here you see me!" said madame, composed as ever, but not -knitting to-day. Madame's resolute right hand was occupied with an axe, -in place of the usual softer implements, and in her girdle were a pistol -and a cruel knife. - -"Where do you go, my wife?" - -"I go," said madame, "with you at present. You shall see me at the head -of women, by-and-bye." - -"Come, then!" cried Defarge, in a resounding voice. "Patriots and -friends, we are ready! The Bastille!" - -With a roar that sounded as if all the breath in France had been shaped -into the detested word, the living sea rose, wave on wave, depth on -depth, and overflowed the city to that point. Alarm-bells ringing, drums -beating, the sea raging and thundering on its new beach, the attack -began. - -Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great -towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. Through the fire and through -the smoke--in the fire and in the smoke, for the sea cast him up against -a cannon, and on the instant he became a cannonier--Defarge of the -wine-shop worked like a manful soldier, Two fierce hours. - -Deep ditch, single drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great towers, -cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. One drawbridge down! "Work, comrades -all, work! Work, Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques One Thousand, Jacques -Two Thousand, Jacques Five-and-Twenty Thousand; in the name of all -the Angels or the Devils--which you prefer--work!" Thus Defarge of the -wine-shop, still at his gun, which had long grown hot. - -"To me, women!" cried madame his wife. "What! We can kill as well as -the men when the place is taken!" And to her, with a shrill thirsty -cry, trooping women variously armed, but all armed alike in hunger and -revenge. - -Cannon, muskets, fire and smoke; but, still the deep ditch, the single -drawbridge, the massive stone walls, and the eight great towers. Slight -displacements of the raging sea, made by the falling wounded. Flashing -weapons, blazing torches, smoking waggonloads of wet straw, hard work -at neighbouring barricades in all directions, shrieks, volleys, -execrations, bravery without stint, boom smash and rattle, and the -furious sounding of the living sea; but, still the deep ditch, and the -single drawbridge, and the massive stone walls, and the eight great -towers, and still Defarge of the wine-shop at his gun, grown doubly hot -by the service of Four fierce hours. - -A white flag from within the fortress, and a parley--this dimly -perceptible through the raging storm, nothing audible in it--suddenly -the sea rose immeasurably wider and higher, and swept Defarge of the -wine-shop over the lowered drawbridge, past the massive stone outer -walls, in among the eight great towers surrendered! - -So resistless was the force of the ocean bearing him on, that even to -draw his breath or turn his head was as impracticable as if he had been -struggling in the surf at the South Sea, until he was landed in the -outer courtyard of the Bastille. There, against an angle of a wall, he -made a struggle to look about him. Jacques Three was nearly at his side; -Madame Defarge, still heading some of her women, was visible in the -inner distance, and her knife was in her hand. Everywhere was tumult, -exultation, deafening and maniacal bewilderment, astounding noise, yet -furious dumb-show. - -"The Prisoners!" - -"The Records!" - -"The secret cells!" - -"The instruments of torture!" - -"The Prisoners!" - -Of all these cries, and ten thousand incoherences, "The Prisoners!" was -the cry most taken up by the sea that rushed in, as if there were an -eternity of people, as well as of time and space. When the foremost -billows rolled past, bearing the prison officers with them, and -threatening them all with instant death if any secret nook remained -undisclosed, Defarge laid his strong hand on the breast of one of -these men--a man with a grey head, who had a lighted torch in his -hand--separated him from the rest, and got him between himself and the -wall. - -"Show me the North Tower!" said Defarge. "Quick!" - -"I will faithfully," replied the man, "if you will come with me. But -there is no one there." - -"What is the meaning of One Hundred and Five, North Tower?" asked -Defarge. "Quick!" - -"The meaning, monsieur?" - -"Does it mean a captive, or a place of captivity? Or do you mean that I -shall strike you dead?" - -"Kill him!" croaked Jacques Three, who had come close up. - -"Monsieur, it is a cell." - -"Show it me!" - -"Pass this way, then." - -Jacques Three, with his usual craving on him, and evidently disappointed -by the dialogue taking a turn that did not seem to promise bloodshed, -held by Defarge's arm as he held by the turnkey's. Their three heads had -been close together during this brief discourse, and it had been as much -as they could do to hear one another, even then: so tremendous was the -noise of the living ocean, in its irruption into the Fortress, and -its inundation of the courts and passages and staircases. All around -outside, too, it beat the walls with a deep, hoarse roar, from which, -occasionally, some partial shouts of tumult broke and leaped into the -air like spray. - -Through gloomy vaults where the light of day had never shone, past -hideous doors of dark dens and cages, down cavernous flights of steps, -and again up steep rugged ascents of stone and brick, more like dry -waterfalls than staircases, Defarge, the turnkey, and Jacques Three, -linked hand and arm, went with all the speed they could make. Here and -there, especially at first, the inundation started on them and swept by; -but when they had done descending, and were winding and climbing up a -tower, they were alone. Hemmed in here by the massive thickness of walls -and arches, the storm within the fortress and without was only audible -to them in a dull, subdued way, as if the noise out of which they had -come had almost destroyed their sense of hearing. - -The turnkey stopped at a low door, put a key in a clashing lock, swung -the door slowly open, and said, as they all bent their heads and passed -in: - -"One hundred and five, North Tower!" - -There was a small, heavily-grated, unglazed window high in the wall, -with a stone screen before it, so that the sky could be only seen by -stooping low and looking up. There was a small chimney, heavily barred -across, a few feet within. There was a heap of old feathery wood-ashes -on the hearth. There was a stool, and table, and a straw bed. There were -the four blackened walls, and a rusted iron ring in one of them. - -"Pass that torch slowly along these walls, that I may see them," said -Defarge to the turnkey. - -The man obeyed, and Defarge followed the light closely with his eyes. - -"Stop!--Look here, Jacques!" - -"A. M.!" croaked Jacques Three, as he read greedily. - -"Alexandre Manette," said Defarge in his ear, following the letters -with his swart forefinger, deeply engrained with gunpowder. "And here he -wrote 'a poor physician.' And it was he, without doubt, who scratched -a calendar on this stone. What is that in your hand? A crowbar? Give it -me!" - -He had still the linstock of his gun in his own hand. He made a sudden -exchange of the two instruments, and turning on the worm-eaten stool and -table, beat them to pieces in a few blows. - -"Hold the light higher!" he said, wrathfully, to the turnkey. "Look -among those fragments with care, Jacques. And see! Here is my knife," -throwing it to him; "rip open that bed, and search the straw. Hold the -light higher, you!" - -With a menacing look at the turnkey he crawled upon the hearth, and, -peering up the chimney, struck and prised at its sides with the crowbar, -and worked at the iron grating across it. In a few minutes, some mortar -and dust came dropping down, which he averted his face to avoid; and -in it, and in the old wood-ashes, and in a crevice in the chimney -into which his weapon had slipped or wrought itself, he groped with a -cautious touch. - -"Nothing in the wood, and nothing in the straw, Jacques?" - -"Nothing." - -"Let us collect them together, in the middle of the cell. So! Light -them, you!" - -The turnkey fired the little pile, which blazed high and hot. Stooping -again to come out at the low-arched door, they left it burning, and -retraced their way to the courtyard; seeming to recover their sense -of hearing as they came down, until they were in the raging flood once -more. - -They found it surging and tossing, in quest of Defarge himself. Saint -Antoine was clamorous to have its wine-shop keeper foremost in the guard -upon the governor who had defended the Bastille and shot the people. -Otherwise, the governor would not be marched to the Hotel de Ville for -judgment. Otherwise, the governor would escape, and the people's -blood (suddenly of some value, after many years of worthlessness) be -unavenged. - -In the howling universe of passion and contention that seemed to -encompass this grim old officer conspicuous in his grey coat and red -decoration, there was but one quite steady figure, and that was a -woman's. "See, there is my husband!" she cried, pointing him out. -"See Defarge!" She stood immovable close to the grim old officer, and -remained immovable close to him; remained immovable close to him through -the streets, as Defarge and the rest bore him along; remained immovable -close to him when he was got near his destination, and began to -be struck at from behind; remained immovable close to him when the -long-gathering rain of stabs and blows fell heavy; was so close to him -when he dropped dead under it, that, suddenly animated, she put her foot -upon his neck, and with her cruel knife--long ready--hewed off his head. - -The hour was come, when Saint Antoine was to execute his horrible idea -of hoisting up men for lamps to show what he could be and do. Saint -Antoine's blood was up, and the blood of tyranny and domination by the -iron hand was down--down on the steps of the Hotel de Ville where the -governor's body lay--down on the sole of the shoe of Madame Defarge -where she had trodden on the body to steady it for mutilation. "Lower -the lamp yonder!" cried Saint Antoine, after glaring round for a new -means of death; "here is one of his soldiers to be left on guard!" The -swinging sentinel was posted, and the sea rushed on. - -The sea of black and threatening waters, and of destructive upheaving -of wave against wave, whose depths were yet unfathomed and whose forces -were yet unknown. The remorseless sea of turbulently swaying shapes, -voices of vengeance, and faces hardened in the furnaces of suffering -until the touch of pity could make no mark on them. - -But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furious expression was -in vivid life, there were two groups of faces--each seven in number--so -fixedly contrasting with the rest, that never did sea roll which bore -more memorable wrecks with it. Seven faces of prisoners, suddenly -released by the storm that had burst their tomb, were carried high -overhead: all scared, all lost, all wondering and amazed, as if the Last -Day were come, and those who rejoiced around them were lost spirits. -Other seven faces there were, carried higher, seven dead faces, whose -drooping eyelids and half-seen eyes awaited the Last Day. Impassive -faces, yet with a suspended--not an abolished--expression on them; -faces, rather, in a fearful pause, as having yet to raise the dropped -lids of the eyes, and bear witness with the bloodless lips, "THOU DIDST -IT!" - -Seven prisoners released, seven gory heads on pikes, the keys of the -accursed fortress of the eight strong towers, some discovered letters -and other memorials of prisoners of old time, long dead of broken -hearts,--such, and such--like, the loudly echoing footsteps of Saint -Antoine escort through the Paris streets in mid-July, one thousand seven -hundred and eighty-nine. Now, Heaven defeat the fancy of Lucie Darnay, -and keep these feet far out of her life! For, they are headlong, mad, -and dangerous; and in the years so long after the breaking of the cask -at Defarge's wine-shop door, they are not easily purified when once -stained red. - - - - -XXII. The Sea Still Rises - - -Haggard Saint Antoine had had only one exultant week, in which to soften -his modicum of hard and bitter bread to such extent as he could, with -the relish of fraternal embraces and congratulations, when Madame -Defarge sat at her counter, as usual, presiding over the customers. -Madame Defarge wore no rose in her head, for the great brotherhood of -Spies had become, even in one short week, extremely chary of trusting -themselves to the saint's mercies. The lamps across his streets had a -portentously elastic swing with them. - -Madame Defarge, with her arms folded, sat in the morning light and heat, -contemplating the wine-shop and the street. In both, there were several -knots of loungers, squalid and miserable, but now with a manifest sense -of power enthroned on their distress. The raggedest nightcap, awry on -the wretchedest head, had this crooked significance in it: "I know how -hard it has grown for me, the wearer of this, to support life in myself; -but do you know how easy it has grown for me, the wearer of this, to -destroy life in you?" Every lean bare arm, that had been without work -before, had this work always ready for it now, that it could strike. -The fingers of the knitting women were vicious, with the experience that -they could tear. There was a change in the appearance of Saint Antoine; -the image had been hammering into this for hundreds of years, and the -last finishing blows had told mightily on the expression. - -Madame Defarge sat observing it, with such suppressed approval as was -to be desired in the leader of the Saint Antoine women. One of her -sisterhood knitted beside her. The short, rather plump wife of a starved -grocer, and the mother of two children withal, this lieutenant had -already earned the complimentary name of The Vengeance. - -"Hark!" said The Vengeance. "Listen, then! Who comes?" - -As if a train of powder laid from the outermost bound of Saint Antoine -Quarter to the wine-shop door, had been suddenly fired, a fast-spreading -murmur came rushing along. - -"It is Defarge," said madame. "Silence, patriots!" - -Defarge came in breathless, pulled off a red cap he wore, and looked -around him! "Listen, everywhere!" said madame again. "Listen to him!" -Defarge stood, panting, against a background of eager eyes and open -mouths, formed outside the door; all those within the wine-shop had -sprung to their feet. - -"Say then, my husband. What is it?" - -"News from the other world!" - -"How, then?" cried madame, contemptuously. "The other world?" - -"Does everybody here recall old Foulon, who told the famished people -that they might eat grass, and who died, and went to Hell?" - -"Everybody!" from all throats. - -"The news is of him. He is among us!" - -"Among us!" from the universal throat again. "And dead?" - -"Not dead! He feared us so much--and with reason--that he caused himself -to be represented as dead, and had a grand mock-funeral. But they have -found him alive, hiding in the country, and have brought him in. I have -seen him but now, on his way to the Hotel de Ville, a prisoner. I have -said that he had reason to fear us. Say all! _Had_ he reason?" - -Wretched old sinner of more than threescore years and ten, if he had -never known it yet, he would have known it in his heart of hearts if he -could have heard the answering cry. - -A moment of profound silence followed. Defarge and his wife looked -steadfastly at one another. The Vengeance stooped, and the jar of a drum -was heard as she moved it at her feet behind the counter. - -"Patriots!" said Defarge, in a determined voice, "are we ready?" - -Instantly Madame Defarge's knife was in her girdle; the drum was beating -in the streets, as if it and a drummer had flown together by magic; and -The Vengeance, uttering terrific shrieks, and flinging her arms about -her head like all the forty Furies at once, was tearing from house to -house, rousing the women. - -The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they looked -from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came pouring down into -the streets; but, the women were a sight to chill the boldest. From -such household occupations as their bare poverty yielded, from their -children, from their aged and their sick crouching on the bare ground -famished and naked, they ran out with streaming hair, urging one -another, and themselves, to madness with the wildest cries and actions. -Villain Foulon taken, my sister! Old Foulon taken, my mother! Miscreant -Foulon taken, my daughter! Then, a score of others ran into the midst of -these, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, and screaming, Foulon -alive! Foulon who told the starving people they might eat grass! Foulon -who told my old father that he might eat grass, when I had no bread -to give him! Foulon who told my baby it might suck grass, when these -breasts were dry with want! O mother of God, this Foulon! O Heaven our -suffering! Hear me, my dead baby and my withered father: I swear on my -knees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Husbands, and brothers, -and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give us the head of Foulon, -Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and soul of Foulon, Rend -Foulon to pieces, and dig him into the ground, that grass may grow from -him! With these cries, numbers of the women, lashed into blind frenzy, -whirled about, striking and tearing at their own friends until they -dropped into a passionate swoon, and were only saved by the men -belonging to them from being trampled under foot. - -Nevertheless, not a moment was lost; not a moment! This Foulon was at -the Hotel de Ville, and might be loosed. Never, if Saint Antoine knew -his own sufferings, insults, and wrongs! Armed men and women flocked out -of the Quarter so fast, and drew even these last dregs after them with -such a force of suction, that within a quarter of an hour there was not -a human creature in Saint Antoine's bosom but a few old crones and the -wailing children. - -No. They were all by that time choking the Hall of Examination where -this old man, ugly and wicked, was, and overflowing into the adjacent -open space and streets. The Defarges, husband and wife, The Vengeance, -and Jacques Three, were in the first press, and at no great distance -from him in the Hall. - -"See!" cried madame, pointing with her knife. "See the old villain bound -with ropes. That was well done to tie a bunch of grass upon his back. -Ha, ha! That was well done. Let him eat it now!" Madame put her knife -under her arm, and clapped her hands as at a play. - -The people immediately behind Madame Defarge, explaining the cause of -her satisfaction to those behind them, and those again explaining to -others, and those to others, the neighbouring streets resounded with the -clapping of hands. Similarly, during two or three hours of drawl, -and the winnowing of many bushels of words, Madame Defarge's frequent -expressions of impatience were taken up, with marvellous quickness, at -a distance: the more readily, because certain men who had by some -wonderful exercise of agility climbed up the external architecture -to look in from the windows, knew Madame Defarge well, and acted as a -telegraph between her and the crowd outside the building. - -At length the sun rose so high that it struck a kindly ray as of hope or -protection, directly down upon the old prisoner's head. The favour was -too much to bear; in an instant the barrier of dust and chaff that had -stood surprisingly long, went to the winds, and Saint Antoine had got -him! - -It was known directly, to the furthest confines of the crowd. Defarge -had but sprung over a railing and a table, and folded the miserable -wretch in a deadly embrace--Madame Defarge had but followed and turned -her hand in one of the ropes with which he was tied--The Vengeance and -Jacques Three were not yet up with them, and the men at the windows -had not yet swooped into the Hall, like birds of prey from their high -perches--when the cry seemed to go up, all over the city, "Bring him -out! Bring him to the lamp!" - -Down, and up, and head foremost on the steps of the building; now, on -his knees; now, on his feet; now, on his back; dragged, and struck at, -and stifled by the bunches of grass and straw that were thrust into his -face by hundreds of hands; torn, bruised, panting, bleeding, yet always -entreating and beseeching for mercy; now full of vehement agony of -action, with a small clear space about him as the people drew one -another back that they might see; now, a log of dead wood drawn through -a forest of legs; he was hauled to the nearest street corner where one -of the fatal lamps swung, and there Madame Defarge let him go--as a cat -might have done to a mouse--and silently and composedly looked at him -while they made ready, and while he besought her: the women passionately -screeching at him all the time, and the men sternly calling out to have -him killed with grass in his mouth. Once, he went aloft, and the rope -broke, and they caught him shrieking; twice, he went aloft, and the rope -broke, and they caught him shrieking; then, the rope was merciful, and -held him, and his head was soon upon a pike, with grass enough in the -mouth for all Saint Antoine to dance at the sight of. - -Nor was this the end of the day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so shouted -and danced his angry blood up, that it boiled again, on hearing when -the day closed in that the son-in-law of the despatched, another of the -people's enemies and insulters, was coming into Paris under a guard -five hundred strong, in cavalry alone. Saint Antoine wrote his crimes -on flaring sheets of paper, seized him--would have torn him out of the -breast of an army to bear Foulon company--set his head and heart on -pikes, and carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession -through the streets. - -Not before dark night did the men and women come back to the children, -wailing and breadless. Then, the miserable bakers' shops were beset by -long files of them, patiently waiting to buy bad bread; and while -they waited with stomachs faint and empty, they beguiled the time by -embracing one another on the triumphs of the day, and achieving them -again in gossip. Gradually, these strings of ragged people shortened and -frayed away; and then poor lights began to shine in high windows, and -slender fires were made in the streets, at which neighbours cooked in -common, afterwards supping at their doors. - -Scanty and insufficient suppers those, and innocent of meat, as of -most other sauce to wretched bread. Yet, human fellowship infused -some nourishment into the flinty viands, and struck some sparks of -cheerfulness out of them. Fathers and mothers who had had their full -share in the 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. - - - - -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 do--beyond 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 them--all 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 chase--now, 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, chiselled, and otherwise beautified and -beautifying 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 it--in 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 paltering 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-bye. - -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 them, a group of soldiers. "Help, gentlemen--officers! The -chateau is on fire; valuable objects may be saved from the flames by -timely aid! Help, help!" The officers looked towards the soldiers who -looked at the fire; gave no orders; and answered, with shrugs and biting -of lips, "It must burn." - -As the rider rattled down the hill again and through the street, the -village was illuminating. The mender of roads, and the two hundred and -fifty particular friends, inspired as one man and woman by the idea of -lighting up, had darted into their houses, and were putting candles in -every dull little pane of glass. The general scarcity of everything, -occasioned candles to be borrowed in a rather peremptory manner of -Monsieur Gabelle; and in a moment of reluctance and hesitation on -that functionary's part, the mender of roads, once so submissive to -authority, had remarked that carriages were good to make bonfires with, -and that post-horses would roast. - -The chateau was left to itself to flame and burn. In the roaring and -raging of the conflagration, a red-hot wind, driving straight from the -infernal regions, seemed to be blowing the edifice away. With the rising -and falling of the blaze, the stone faces showed as if they were in -torment. When great masses of stone and timber fell, the face with the -two dints in the nose became obscured: anon struggled out of the smoke -again, as if it were the face of the cruel Marquis, burning at the stake -and contending with the fire. - -The chateau burned; the nearest trees, laid hold of by the fire, -scorched and shrivelled; trees at a distance, fired by the four fierce -figures, begirt the blazing edifice with a new forest of smoke. Molten -lead and iron boiled in the marble basin of the fountain; the water ran -dry; the extinguisher tops of the towers vanished like ice before the -heat, and trickled down into four rugged wells of flame. Great rents and -splits branched out in the solid walls, like crystallisation; stupefied -birds wheeled about and dropped into the furnace; four fierce figures -trudged away, East, West, North, and South, along the night-enshrouded -roads, guided by the beacon they had lighted, towards their next -destination. The illuminated village had seized hold of the tocsin, and, -abolishing the lawful ringer, rang for joy. - -Not only that; but the village, light-headed with famine, fire, and -bell-ringing, and bethinking itself that Monsieur Gabelle had to do with -the collection of rent and taxes--though it was but a small instalment -of taxes, and no rent at all, that Gabelle had got in those latter -days--became impatient for an interview with him, and, surrounding his -house, summoned him to come forth for personal conference. Whereupon, -Monsieur Gabelle did heavily bar his door, and retire to hold counsel -with himself. The result of that conference was, that Gabelle again -withdrew himself to his housetop behind his stack of chimneys; this time -resolved, if his door were broken in (he was a small Southern man -of retaliative temperament), to pitch himself head foremost over the -parapet, and crush a man or two below. - -Probably, Monsieur Gabelle passed a long night up there, with the -distant chateau for fire and candle, and the beating at his door, -combined with the joy-ringing, for music; not to mention his having an -ill-omened lamp slung across the road before his posting-house gate, -which the village showed a lively inclination to displace in his favour. -A trying suspense, to be passing a whole summer night on the brink of -the black ocean, ready to take that plunge into it upon which Monsieur -Gabelle had resolved! But, the friendly dawn appearing at last, and the -rush-candles of the village guttering out, the people happily dispersed, -and Monsieur Gabelle came down bringing his life with him for that -while. - -Within a hundred miles, and in the light of other fires, there were -other functionaries less fortunate, that night and other nights, whom -the rising sun found hanging across once-peaceful streets, where they -had been born and bred; also, there were other villagers and townspeople -less fortunate than the mender of roads and his fellows, upon whom the -functionaries and soldiery turned with success, and whom they strung up -in their turn. But, the fierce figures were steadily wending East, West, -North, and South, be that as it would; and whosoever hung, fire burned. -The altitude of the gallows that would turn to water and quench it, -no functionary, by any stretch of mathematics, was able to calculate -successfully. - - - - -XXIV. Drawn to the Loadstone Rock - - -In such risings of fire and risings of sea--the firm earth shaken by -the rushes of an angry ocean which had now no ebb, but was always on the -flow, higher and higher, to the terror and wonder of the beholders on -the shore--three years of tempest were consumed. Three more birthdays -of little Lucie had been woven by the golden thread into the peaceful -tissue of the life of her home. - -Many a night and many a day had its inmates listened to the echoes in -the corner, with hearts that failed them when they heard the thronging -feet. For, the footsteps had become to their minds as the footsteps of -a people, tumultuous under a red flag and with their country declared in -danger, changed into wild beasts, by terrible enchantment long persisted -in. - -Monseigneur, as a class, had dissociated himself from the phenomenon of -his not being appreciated: of his being so little wanted in France, as -to incur considerable danger of receiving his dismissal from it, and -this life together. Like the fabled rustic who raised the Devil with -infinite pains, and was so terrified at the sight of him that he could -ask the Enemy no question, but immediately fled; so, Monseigneur, after -boldly reading the Lord's Prayer backwards for a great number of years, -and performing many other potent spells for compelling the Evil One, no -sooner beheld him in his terrors than he took to his noble heels. - -The shining Bull's Eye of the Court was gone, or it would have been the -mark for a hurricane of national bullets. It had never been a good -eye to see with--had long had the mote in it of Lucifer's pride, -Sardanapalus's luxury, and a mole's blindness--but it had dropped -out and was gone. The Court, from that exclusive inner circle to its -outermost rotten ring of intrigue, corruption, and dissimulation, was -all gone together. Royalty was gone; had been besieged in its Palace and -"suspended," when the last tidings came over. - -The August of the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two was -come, and Monseigneur was by this time scattered far and wide. - -As was natural, the head-quarters and great gathering-place of -Monseigneur, in London, was Tellson's Bank. Spirits are supposed to -haunt the places where their bodies most resorted, and Monseigneur -without a guinea haunted the spot where his guineas used to be. -Moreover, it was the spot to which such French intelligence as was most -to be relied upon, came quickest. Again: Tellson's was a munificent -house, and extended great liberality to old customers who had fallen -from their high estate. Again: those nobles who had seen the coming -storm in time, and anticipating plunder or confiscation, had made -provident remittances to Tellson's, were always to be heard of there -by their needy brethren. To which it must be added that every new-comer -from France reported himself and his tidings at Tellson's, almost as -a matter of course. For such variety of reasons, Tellson's was at that -time, as to French intelligence, a kind of High Exchange; and this -was so well known to the public, and the inquiries made there were in -consequence so numerous, that Tellson's sometimes wrote the latest news -out in a line or so and posted it in the Bank windows, for all who ran -through Temple Bar to read. - -On a steaming, misty afternoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk, and Charles -Darnay stood leaning on it, talking with him in a low voice. The -penitential den once set apart for interviews with the House, was now -the news-Exchange, and was filled to overflowing. It was within half an -hour or so of the time of closing. - -"But, although you are the youngest man that ever lived," said Charles -Darnay, rather hesitating, "I must still suggest to you--" - -"I understand. That I am too old?" said Mr. Lorry. - -"Unsettled weather, a long journey, uncertain means of travelling, a -disorganised country, a city that may not be even safe for you." - -"My dear Charles," said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence, "you touch -some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying away. It is safe -enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with an old fellow of hard -upon fourscore when there are so many people there much better worth -interfering with. As to its being a disorganised city, if it were not a -disorganised city there would be no occasion to send somebody from our -House here to our House there, who knows the city and the business, of -old, and is in Tellson's confidence. As to the uncertain travelling, the -long journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to submit -myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson's, after all -these years, who ought to be?" - -"I wish I were going myself," said Charles Darnay, somewhat restlessly, -and like one thinking aloud. - -"Indeed! You are a pretty fellow to object and advise!" exclaimed Mr. -Lorry. "You wish you were going yourself? And you a Frenchman born? You -are a wise counsellor." - -"My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that the -thought (which I did not mean to utter here, however) has passed through -my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having had some sympathy for -the miserable people, and having abandoned something to them," he spoke -here in his former thoughtful manner, "that one might be listened to, -and might have the power to persuade to some restraint. Only last night, -after you had left us, when I was talking to Lucie--" - -"When you were talking to Lucie," Mr. Lorry repeated. "Yes. I wonder you -are not ashamed to mention the name of Lucie! Wishing you were going to -France at this time of day!" - -"However, I am not going," said Charles Darnay, with a smile. "It is -more to the purpose that you say you are." - -"And I am, in plain reality. The truth is, my dear Charles," Mr. Lorry -glanced at the distant House, and lowered his voice, "you can have no -conception of the difficulty with which our business is transacted, and -of the peril in which our books and papers over yonder are involved. The -Lord above knows what the compromising consequences would be to numbers -of people, if some of our documents were seized or destroyed; and they -might be, at any time, you know, for who can say that Paris is not set -afire to-day, or sacked to-morrow! Now, a judicious selection from these -with the least possible delay, and the burying of them, or otherwise -getting of them out of harm's way, is within the power (without loss of -precious time) of scarcely any one but myself, if any one. And shall -I hang back, when Tellson's knows this and says this--Tellson's, whose -bread I have eaten these sixty years--because I am a little stiff about -the joints? Why, I am a boy, sir, to half a dozen old codgers here!" - -"How I admire the gallantry of your youthful spirit, Mr. Lorry." - -"Tut! Nonsense, sir!--And, my dear Charles," said Mr. Lorry, glancing at -the House again, "you are to remember, that getting things out of -Paris at this present time, no matter what things, is next to an -impossibility. Papers and precious matters were this very day brought -to us here (I speak in strict confidence; it is not business-like to -whisper it, even to you), by the strangest bearers you can imagine, -every one of whom had his head hanging on by a single hair as he passed -the Barriers. At another time, our parcels would come and go, as easily -as in business-like Old England; but now, everything is stopped." - -"And do you really go to-night?" - -"I really go to-night, for the case has become too pressing to admit of -delay." - -"And do you take no one with you?" - -"All sorts of people have been proposed to me, but I will have nothing -to say to any of them. I intend to take Jerry. Jerry has been my -bodyguard on Sunday nights for a long time past and I am used to him. -Nobody will suspect Jerry of being anything but an English bull-dog, or -of having any design in his head but to fly at anybody who touches his -master." - -"I must say again that I heartily admire your gallantry and -youthfulness." - -"I must say again, nonsense, nonsense! When I have executed this little -commission, I shall, perhaps, accept Tellson's proposal to retire and -live at my ease. Time enough, then, to think about growing old." - -This dialogue had taken place at Mr. Lorry's usual desk, with -Monseigneur swarming within a yard or two of it, boastful of what he -would do to avenge himself on the rascal-people before long. It was too -much the way of Monseigneur under his reverses as a refugee, and it -was much too much the way of native British orthodoxy, to talk of this -terrible Revolution as if it were the only harvest ever known under -the skies that had not been sown--as if nothing had ever been done, or -omitted to be done, that had led to it--as if observers of the wretched -millions in France, and of the misused and perverted resources that -should have made them prosperous, had not seen it inevitably coming, -years before, and had not in plain words recorded what they saw. Such -vapouring, combined with the extravagant plots of Monseigneur for the -restoration of a state of things that had utterly exhausted itself, -and worn out Heaven and earth as well as itself, was hard to be endured -without some remonstrance by any sane man who knew the truth. And it was -such vapouring all about his ears, like a troublesome confusion of blood -in his own head, added to a latent uneasiness in his mind, which had -already made Charles Darnay restless, and which still kept him so. - -Among the talkers, was Stryver, of the King's Bench Bar, far on his -way to state promotion, and, therefore, loud on the theme: broaching -to Monseigneur, his devices for blowing the people up and exterminating -them from the face of the earth, and doing without them: and for -accomplishing many similar objects akin in their nature to the abolition -of eagles by sprinkling salt on the tails of the race. Him, Darnay heard -with a particular feeling of objection; and Darnay stood divided between -going away that he might hear no more, and remaining to interpose his -word, when the thing that was to be, went on to shape itself out. - -The House approached Mr. Lorry, and laying a soiled and unopened letter -before him, asked if he had yet discovered any traces of the person to -whom it was addressed? The House laid the letter down so close to Darnay -that he saw the direction--the more quickly because it was his own right -name. The address, turned into English, ran: - -"Very pressing. To Monsieur heretofore the Marquis St. Evremonde, of -France. Confided to the cares of Messrs. Tellson and Co., Bankers, -London, England." - -On the marriage morning, Doctor Manette had made it his one urgent and -express request to Charles Darnay, that the secret of this name should -be--unless he, the Doctor, dissolved the obligation--kept inviolate -between them. Nobody else knew it to be his name; his own wife had no -suspicion of the fact; Mr. Lorry could have none. - -"No," said Mr. Lorry, in reply to the House; "I have referred it, -I think, to everybody now here, and no one can tell me where this -gentleman is to be found." - -The hands of the clock verging upon the hour of closing the Bank, there -was a general set of the current of talkers past Mr. Lorry's desk. He -held the letter out inquiringly; and Monseigneur looked at it, in the -person of this plotting and indignant refugee; and Monseigneur looked at -it in the person of that plotting and indignant refugee; and This, That, -and The Other, all had something disparaging to say, in French or in -English, concerning the Marquis who was not to be found. - -"Nephew, I believe--but in any case degenerate successor--of the -polished Marquis who was murdered," said one. "Happy to say, I never -knew him." - -"A craven who abandoned his post," said another--this Monseigneur had -been got out of Paris, legs uppermost and half suffocated, in a load of -hay--"some years ago." - -"Infected with the new doctrines," said a third, eyeing the direction -through his glass in passing; "set himself in opposition to the last -Marquis, abandoned the estates when he inherited them, and left them to -the ruffian herd. They will recompense him now, I hope, as he deserves." - -"Hey?" cried the blatant Stryver. "Did he though? Is that the sort of -fellow? Let us look at his infamous name. D--n the fellow!" - -Darnay, unable to restrain himself any longer, touched Mr. Stryver on -the shoulder, and said: - -"I know the fellow." - -"Do you, by Jupiter?" said Stryver. "I am sorry for it." - -"Why?" - -"Why, Mr. Darnay? D'ye hear what he did? Don't ask, why, in these -times." - -"But I do ask why?" - -"Then I tell you again, Mr. Darnay, I am sorry for it. I am sorry to -hear you putting any such extraordinary questions. Here is a fellow, -who, infected by the most pestilent and blasphemous code of devilry that -ever was known, abandoned his property to the vilest scum of the earth -that ever did murder by wholesale, and you ask me why I am sorry that a -man who instructs youth knows him? Well, but I'll answer you. I am sorry -because I believe there is contamination in such a scoundrel. That's -why." - -Mindful of the secret, Darnay with great difficulty checked himself, and -said: "You may not understand the gentleman." - -"I understand how to put _you_ in a corner, Mr. Darnay," said Bully -Stryver, "and I'll do it. If this fellow is a gentleman, I _don't_ -understand him. You may tell him so, with my compliments. You may also -tell him, from me, that after abandoning his worldly goods and position -to this butcherly mob, I wonder he is not at the head of them. But, no, -gentlemen," said Stryver, looking all round, and snapping his fingers, -"I know something of human nature, and I tell you that you'll never -find a fellow like this fellow, trusting himself to the mercies of such -precious _proteges_. No, gentlemen; he'll always show 'em a clean pair -of heels very early in the scuffle, and sneak away." - -With those words, and a final snap of his fingers, Mr. Stryver -shouldered himself into Fleet-street, amidst the general approbation of -his hearers. Mr. Lorry and Charles Darnay were left alone at the desk, -in the general departure from the Bank. - -"Will you take charge of the letter?" said Mr. Lorry. "You know where to -deliver it?" - -"I do." - -"Will you undertake to explain, that we suppose it to have been -addressed here, on the chance of our knowing where to forward it, and -that it has been here some time?" - -"I will do so. Do you start for Paris from here?" - -"From here, at eight." - -"I will come back, to see you off." - -Very ill at ease with himself, and with Stryver and most other men, -Darnay made the best of his way into the quiet of the Temple, opened the -letter, and read it. These were its contents: - - -"Prison of the Abbaye, Paris. - -"June 21, 1792. "MONSIEUR HERETOFORE THE MARQUIS. - -"After having long been in danger of my life at the hands of the -village, I have been seized, with great violence and indignity, and -brought a long journey on foot to Paris. On the road I have suffered a -great deal. Nor is that all; my house has been destroyed--razed to the -ground. - -"The crime for which I am imprisoned, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, -and for which I shall be summoned before the tribunal, and shall lose my -life (without your so generous help), is, they tell me, treason against -the majesty of the people, in that I have acted against them for an -emigrant. It is in vain I represent that I have acted for them, and not -against, according to your commands. It is in vain I represent that, -before the sequestration of emigrant property, I had remitted the -imposts they had ceased to pay; that I had collected no rent; that I had -had recourse to no process. The only response is, that I have acted for -an emigrant, and where is that emigrant? - -"Ah! most gracious Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, where is that -emigrant? I cry in my sleep where is he? I demand of Heaven, will he -not come to deliver me? No answer. Ah Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, -I send my desolate cry across the sea, hoping it may perhaps reach your -ears through the great bank of Tilson known at Paris! - -"For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of -your noble name, I supplicate you, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, to -succour and release me. My fault is, that I have been true to you. Oh -Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, I pray you be you true to me! - -"From this prison here of horror, whence I every hour tend nearer and -nearer to destruction, I send you, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, the -assurance of my dolorous and unhappy service. - -"Your afflicted, - -"Gabelle." - - -The latent uneasiness in Darnay's mind was roused to vigourous life -by this letter. The peril of an old servant and a good one, whose -only crime was fidelity to himself and his family, stared him so -reproachfully in the face, that, as he walked to and fro in the Temple -considering what to do, he almost hid his face from the passersby. - -He knew very well, that in his horror of the deed which had culminated -the bad deeds and bad reputation of the old family house, in his -resentful suspicions of his uncle, and in the aversion with which his -conscience regarded the crumbling fabric that he was supposed to uphold, -he had acted imperfectly. He knew very well, that in his love for Lucie, -his renunciation of his social place, though by no means new to his own -mind, had been hurried and incomplete. He knew that he ought to have -systematically worked it out and supervised it, and that he had meant to -do it, and that it had never been done. - -The happiness of his own chosen English home, the necessity of being -always actively employed, the swift changes and troubles of the time -which had followed on one another so fast, that the events of this week -annihilated the immature plans of last week, and the events of the week -following made all new again; he knew very well, that to the force of -these circumstances he had yielded:--not without disquiet, but still -without continuous and accumulating resistance. That he had watched -the times for a time of action, and that they had shifted and struggled -until the time had gone by, and the nobility were trooping from -France by every highway and byway, and their property was in course of -confiscation and destruction, and their very names were blotting out, -was as well known to himself as it could be to any new authority in -France that might impeach him for it. - -But, he had oppressed no man, he had imprisoned no man; he was so -far from having harshly exacted payment of his dues, that he had -relinquished them of his own will, thrown himself on a world with no -favour in it, won his own private place there, and earned his own -bread. Monsieur Gabelle had held the impoverished and involved estate -on written instructions, to spare the people, to give them what little -there was to give--such fuel as the heavy creditors would let them have -in the winter, and such produce as could be saved from the same grip in -the summer--and no doubt he had put the fact in plea and proof, for his -own safety, so that it could not but appear now. - -This favoured the desperate resolution Charles Darnay had begun to make, -that he would go to Paris. - -Yes. Like the mariner in the old story, the winds and streams had driven -him within the influence of the Loadstone Rock, and it was drawing him -to itself, and he must go. Everything that arose before his mind drifted -him on, faster and faster, more and more steadily, to the terrible -attraction. His latent uneasiness had been, that bad aims were being -worked out in his own unhappy land by bad instruments, and that he who -could not fail to know that he was better than they, was not there, -trying to do something to stay bloodshed, and assert the claims of mercy -and humanity. With this uneasiness half stifled, and half reproaching -him, he had been brought to the pointed comparison of himself with the -brave old gentleman in whom duty was so strong; upon that comparison -(injurious to himself) had instantly followed the sneers of Monseigneur, -which had stung him bitterly, and those of Stryver, which above all were -coarse and galling, for old reasons. Upon those, had followed Gabelle's -letter: the appeal of an innocent prisoner, in danger of death, to his -justice, honour, and good name. - -His resolution was made. He must go to Paris. - -Yes. The Loadstone Rock was drawing him, and he must sail on, until he -struck. He knew of no rock; he saw hardly any danger. The intention -with which he had done what he had done, even although he had left -it incomplete, presented it before him in an aspect that would be -gratefully acknowledged in France on his presenting himself to assert -it. Then, that glorious vision of doing good, which is so often the -sanguine mirage of so many good minds, arose before him, and he even -saw himself in the illusion with some influence to guide this raging -Revolution that was running so fearfully wild. - -As he walked to and fro with his resolution made, he considered that -neither Lucie nor her father must know of it until he was gone. -Lucie should be spared the pain of separation; and her father, always -reluctant to turn his thoughts towards the dangerous ground of old, -should come to the knowledge of the step, as a step taken, and not in -the balance of suspense and doubt. How much of the incompleteness of his -situation was referable to her father, through the painful anxiety -to avoid reviving old associations of France in his mind, he did not -discuss with himself. But, that circumstance too, had had its influence -in his course. - -He walked to and fro, with thoughts very busy, until it was time to -return to Tellson's and take leave of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he arrived -in Paris he would present himself to this old friend, but he must say -nothing of his intention now. - -A carriage with post-horses was ready at the Bank door, and Jerry was -booted and equipped. - -"I have delivered that letter," said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry. "I -would not consent to your being charged with any written answer, but -perhaps you will take a verbal one?" - -"That I will, and readily," said Mr. Lorry, "if it is not dangerous." - -"Not at all. Though it is to a prisoner in the Abbaye." - -"What is his name?" said Mr. Lorry, with his open pocket-book in his -hand. - -"Gabelle." - -"Gabelle. And what is the message to the unfortunate Gabelle in prison?" - -"Simply, 'that he has received the letter, and will come.'" - -"Any time mentioned?" - -"He will start upon his journey to-morrow night." - -"Any person mentioned?" - -"No." - -He helped Mr. Lorry to wrap himself in a number of coats and cloaks, -and went out with him from the warm atmosphere of the old Bank, into the -misty air of Fleet-street. "My love to Lucie, and to little Lucie," said -Mr. Lorry at parting, "and take precious care of them till I come back." -Charles Darnay shook his head and doubtfully smiled, as the carriage -rolled away. - -That night--it was the fourteenth of August--he sat up late, and wrote -two fervent letters; one was to Lucie, explaining the strong obligation -he was under to go to Paris, and showing her, at length, the reasons -that he had, for feeling confident that he could become involved in no -personal danger there; the other was to the Doctor, confiding Lucie and -their dear child to his care, and dwelling on the same topics with the -strongest assurances. To both, he wrote that he would despatch letters -in proof of his safety, immediately after his arrival. - -It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first -reservation of their joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matter to -preserve the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly unsuspicious. -But, an affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him -resolute not to tell her what impended (he had been half moved to do it, -so strange it was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid), and -the day passed quickly. Early in the evening he embraced her, and her -scarcely less dear namesake, pretending that he would return by-and-bye -(an imaginary engagement took him out, and he had secreted a valise -of clothes ready), and so he emerged into the heavy mist of the heavy -streets, with a heavier heart. - -The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all the tides -and winds were setting straight and strong towards it. He left his -two letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour before -midnight, and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began his journey. -"For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of -your noble name!" was the poor prisoner's cry with which he strengthened -his sinking heart, as he left all that was dear on earth behind him, and -floated away for the Loadstone Rock. - - -The end of the second book. - - - - - -Book the Third--the Track of a Storm - - - - -I. In Secret - - -The traveller fared slowly on his way, who fared towards Paris from -England in the autumn of the year one thousand seven hundred and -ninety-two. More than enough of bad roads, bad equipages, and bad -horses, he would have encountered to delay him, though the fallen and -unfortunate King of France had been upon his throne in all his glory; -but, the changed times were fraught with other obstacles than -these. Every town-gate and village taxing-house had its band of -citizen-patriots, with their national muskets in a most explosive state -of readiness, who stopped all comers and goers, cross-questioned them, -inspected their papers, looked for their names in lists of their own, -turned them back, or sent them on, or stopped them and laid them in -hold, as their capricious judgment or fancy deemed best for the dawning -Republic One and Indivisible, of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or -Death. - -A very few French leagues of his journey were accomplished, when Charles -Darnay began to perceive that for him along these country roads there -was no hope of return until he should have been declared a good citizen -at Paris. Whatever might befall now, he must on to his journey's end. -Not a mean village closed upon him, not a common barrier dropped across -the road behind him, but he knew it to be another iron door in -the series that was barred between him and England. The universal -watchfulness so encompassed him, that if he had been taken in a net, -or were being forwarded to his destination in a cage, he could not have -felt his freedom more completely gone. - -This universal watchfulness not only stopped him on the highway twenty -times in a stage, but retarded his progress twenty times in a day, by -riding after him and taking him back, riding before him and stopping him -by anticipation, riding with him and keeping him in charge. He had been -days upon his journey in France alone, when he went to bed tired out, in -a little town on the high road, still a long way from Paris. - -Nothing but the production of the afflicted Gabelle's letter from his -prison of the Abbaye would have got him on so far. His difficulty at the -guard-house in this small place had been such, that he felt his journey -to have come to a crisis. And he was, therefore, as little surprised as -a man could be, to find himself awakened at the small inn to which he -had been remitted until morning, in the middle of the night. - -Awakened by a timid local functionary and three armed patriots in rough -red caps and with pipes in their mouths, who sat down on the bed. - -"Emigrant," said the functionary, "I am going to send you on to Paris, -under an escort." - -"Citizen, I desire nothing more than to get to Paris, though I could -dispense with the escort." - -"Silence!" growled a red-cap, striking at the coverlet with the butt-end -of his musket. "Peace, aristocrat!" - -"It is as the good patriot says," observed the timid functionary. "You -are an aristocrat, and must have an escort--and must pay for it." - -"I have no choice," said Charles Darnay. - -"Choice! Listen to him!" cried the same scowling red-cap. "As if it was -not a favour to be protected from the lamp-iron!" - -"It is always as the good patriot says," observed the functionary. "Rise -and dress yourself, emigrant." - -Darnay complied, and was taken back to the guard-house, where other -patriots in rough red caps were smoking, drinking, and sleeping, by -a watch-fire. Here he paid a heavy price for his escort, and hence he -started with it on the wet, wet roads at three o'clock in the morning. - -The escort were two mounted patriots in red caps and tri-coloured -cockades, armed with national muskets and sabres, who rode one on either -side of him. - -The escorted governed his own horse, but a loose line was attached to -his bridle, the end of which one of the patriots kept girded round his -wrist. In this state they set forth with the sharp rain driving in their -faces: clattering at a heavy dragoon trot over the uneven town pavement, -and out upon the mire-deep roads. In this state they traversed without -change, except of horses and pace, all the mire-deep leagues that lay -between them and the capital. - -They travelled in the night, halting an hour or two after daybreak, and -lying by until the twilight fell. The escort were so wretchedly clothed, -that they twisted straw round their bare legs, and thatched their ragged -shoulders to keep the wet off. Apart from the personal discomfort of -being so attended, and apart from such considerations of present danger -as arose from one of the patriots being chronically drunk, and carrying -his musket very recklessly, Charles Darnay did not allow the restraint -that was laid upon him to awaken any serious fears in his breast; for, -he reasoned with himself that it could have no reference to the merits -of an individual case that was not yet stated, and of representations, -confirmable by the prisoner in the Abbaye, that were not yet made. - -But when they came to the town of Beauvais--which they did at eventide, -when the streets were filled with people--he could not conceal from -himself that the aspect of affairs was very alarming. An ominous crowd -gathered to see him dismount of the posting-yard, and many voices called -out loudly, "Down with the emigrant!" - -He stopped in the act of swinging himself out of his saddle, and, -resuming it as his safest place, said: - -"Emigrant, my friends! Do you not see me here, in France, of my own -will?" - -"You are a cursed emigrant," cried a farrier, making at him in a -furious manner through the press, hammer in hand; "and you are a cursed -aristocrat!" - -The postmaster interposed himself between this man and the rider's -bridle (at which he was evidently making), and soothingly said, "Let him -be; let him be! He will be judged at Paris." - -"Judged!" repeated the farrier, swinging his hammer. "Ay! and condemned -as a traitor." At this the crowd roared approval. - -Checking the postmaster, who was for turning his horse's head to the -yard (the drunken patriot sat composedly in his saddle looking on, with -the line round his wrist), Darnay said, as soon as he could make his -voice heard: - -"Friends, you deceive yourselves, or you are deceived. I am not a -traitor." - -"He lies!" cried the smith. "He is a traitor since the decree. His life -is forfeit to the people. His cursed life is not his own!" - -At the instant when Darnay saw a rush in the eyes of the crowd, which -another instant would have brought upon him, the postmaster turned his -horse into the yard, the escort rode in close upon his horse's flanks, -and the postmaster shut and barred the crazy double gates. The farrier -struck a blow upon them with his hammer, and the crowd groaned; but, no -more was done. - -"What is this decree that the smith spoke of?" Darnay asked the -postmaster, when he had thanked him, and stood beside him in the yard. - -"Truly, a decree for selling the property of emigrants." - -"When passed?" - -"On the fourteenth." - -"The day I left England!" - -"Everybody says it is but one of several, and that there will be -others--if there are not already--banishing all emigrants, and -condemning all to death who return. That is what he meant when he said -your life was not your own." - -"But there are no such decrees yet?" - -"What do I know!" said the postmaster, shrugging his shoulders; "there -may be, or there will be. It is all the same. What would you have?" - -They rested on some straw in a loft until the middle of the night, and -then rode forward again when all the town was asleep. Among the many -wild changes observable on familiar things which made this wild ride -unreal, not the least was the seeming rarity of sleep. After long and -lonely spurring over dreary roads, they would come to a cluster of poor -cottages, not steeped in darkness, but all glittering with lights, and -would find the people, in a ghostly manner in the dead of the night, -circling hand in hand round a shrivelled tree of Liberty, or all drawn -up together singing a Liberty song. Happily, however, there was sleep in -Beauvais that night to help them out of it and they passed on once more -into solitude and loneliness: jingling through the untimely cold and -wet, among impoverished fields that had yielded no fruits of the earth -that year, diversified by the blackened remains of burnt houses, and by -the sudden emergence from ambuscade, and sharp reining up across their -way, of patriot patrols on the watch on all the roads. - -Daylight at last found them before the wall of Paris. The barrier was -closed and strongly guarded when they rode up to it. - -"Where are the papers of this prisoner?" demanded a resolute-looking man -in authority, who was summoned out by the guard. - -Naturally struck by the disagreeable word, Charles Darnay requested the -speaker to take notice that he was a free traveller and French citizen, -in charge of an escort which the disturbed state of the country had -imposed upon him, and which he had paid for. - -"Where," repeated the same personage, without taking any heed of him -whatever, "are the papers of this prisoner?" - -The drunken patriot had them in his cap, and produced them. Casting his -eyes over Gabelle's letter, the same personage in authority showed some -disorder and surprise, and looked at Darnay with a close attention. - -He left escort and escorted without saying a word, however, and went -into the guard-room; meanwhile, they sat upon their horses outside the -gate. Looking about him while in this state of suspense, Charles -Darnay observed that the gate was held by a mixed guard of soldiers and -patriots, the latter far outnumbering the former; and that while ingress -into the city for peasants' carts bringing in supplies, and for similar -traffic and traffickers, was easy enough, egress, even for the homeliest -people, was very difficult. A numerous medley of men and women, not -to mention beasts and vehicles of various sorts, was waiting to issue -forth; but, the previous identification was so strict, that they -filtered through the barrier very slowly. Some of these people knew -their turn for examination to be so far off, that they lay down on the -ground to sleep or smoke, while others talked together, or loitered -about. The red cap and tri-colour cockade were universal, both among men -and women. - -When he had sat in his saddle some half-hour, taking note of these -things, Darnay found himself confronted by the same man in authority, -who directed the guard to open the barrier. Then he delivered to the -escort, drunk and sober, a receipt for the escorted, and requested him -to dismount. He did so, and the two patriots, leading his tired horse, -turned and rode away without entering the city. - -He accompanied his conductor into a guard-room, smelling of common wine -and tobacco, where certain soldiers and patriots, asleep and awake, -drunk and sober, and in various neutral states between sleeping and -waking, drunkenness and sobriety, were standing and lying about. The -light in the guard-house, half derived from the waning oil-lamps of -the night, and half from the overcast day, was in a correspondingly -uncertain condition. Some registers were lying open on a desk, and an -officer of a coarse, dark aspect, presided over these. - -"Citizen Defarge," said he to Darnay's conductor, as he took a slip of -paper to write on. "Is this the emigrant Evremonde?" - -"This is the man." - -"Your age, Evremonde?" - -"Thirty-seven." - -"Married, Evremonde?" - -"Yes." - -"Where married?" - -"In England." - -"Without doubt. Where is your wife, Evremonde?" - -"In England." - -"Without doubt. You are consigned, Evremonde, to the prison of La -Force." - -"Just Heaven!" exclaimed Darnay. "Under what law, and for what offence?" - -The officer looked up from his slip of paper for a moment. - -"We have new laws, Evremonde, and new offences, since you were here." He -said it with a hard smile, and went on writing. - -"I entreat you to observe that I have come here voluntarily, in response -to that written appeal of a fellow-countryman which lies before you. I -demand no more than the opportunity to do so without delay. Is not that -my right?" - -"Emigrants have no rights, Evremonde," was the stolid reply. The officer -wrote until he had finished, read over to himself what he had written, -sanded it, and handed it to Defarge, with the words "In secret." - -Defarge motioned with the paper to the prisoner that he must accompany -him. The prisoner obeyed, and a guard of two armed patriots attended -them. - -"Is it you," said Defarge, in a low voice, as they went down the -guardhouse steps and turned into Paris, "who married the daughter of -Doctor Manette, once a prisoner in the Bastille that is no more?" - -"Yes," replied Darnay, looking at him with surprise. - -"My name is Defarge, and I keep a wine-shop in the Quarter Saint -Antoine. Possibly you have heard of me." - -"My wife came to your house to reclaim her father? Yes!" - -The word "wife" seemed to serve as a gloomy reminder to Defarge, to say -with sudden impatience, "In the name of that sharp female newly-born, -and called La Guillotine, why did you come to France?" - -"You heard me say why, a minute ago. Do you not believe it is the -truth?" - -"A bad truth for you," said Defarge, speaking with knitted brows, and -looking straight before him. - -"Indeed I am lost here. All here is so unprecedented, so changed, so -sudden and unfair, that I am absolutely lost. Will you render me a -little help?" - -"None." Defarge spoke, always looking straight before him. - -"Will you answer me a single question?" - -"Perhaps. According to its nature. You can say what it is." - -"In this prison that I am going to so unjustly, shall I have some free -communication with the world outside?" - -"You will see." - -"I am not to be buried there, prejudged, and without any means of -presenting my case?" - -"You will see. But, what then? Other people have been similarly buried -in worse prisons, before now." - -"But never by me, Citizen Defarge." - -Defarge glanced darkly at him for answer, and walked on in a steady -and set silence. The deeper he sank into this silence, the fainter hope -there was--or so Darnay thought--of his softening in any slight degree. -He, therefore, made haste to say: - -"It is of the utmost importance to me (you know, Citizen, even better -than I, of how much importance), that I should be able to communicate to -Mr. Lorry of Tellson's Bank, an English gentleman who is now in Paris, -the simple fact, without comment, that I have been thrown into the -prison of La Force. Will you cause that to be done for me?" - -"I will do," Defarge doggedly rejoined, "nothing for you. My duty is to -my country and the People. I am the sworn servant of both, against you. -I will do nothing for you." - -Charles Darnay felt it hopeless to entreat him further, and his pride -was touched besides. As they walked on in silence, he could not but see -how used the people were to the spectacle of prisoners passing along the -streets. The very children scarcely noticed him. A few passers turned -their heads, and a few shook their fingers at him as an aristocrat; -otherwise, that a man in good clothes should be going to prison, was no -more remarkable than that a labourer in working clothes should be -going to work. In one narrow, dark, and dirty street through which they -passed, an excited orator, mounted on a stool, was addressing an excited -audience on the crimes against the people, of the king and the royal -family. The few words that he caught from this man's lips, first made -it known to Charles Darnay that the king was in prison, and that the -foreign ambassadors had one and all left Paris. On the road (except at -Beauvais) he had heard absolutely nothing. The escort and the universal -watchfulness had completely isolated him. - -That he had fallen among far greater dangers than those which had -developed themselves when he left England, he of course knew now. That -perils had thickened about him fast, and might thicken faster and faster -yet, he of course knew now. He could not but admit to himself that he -might not have made this journey, if he could have foreseen the events -of a few days. And yet his misgivings were not so dark as, imagined by -the light of this later time, they would appear. Troubled as the future -was, it was the unknown future, and in its obscurity there was ignorant -hope. The horrible massacre, days and nights long, which, within a few -rounds of the clock, was to set a great mark of blood upon the blessed -garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his knowledge as if it had -been a hundred thousand years away. The "sharp female newly-born, and -called La Guillotine," was hardly known to him, or to the generality -of people, by name. The frightful deeds that were to be soon done, were -probably unimagined at that time in the brains of the doers. How could -they have a place in the shadowy conceptions of a gentle mind? - -Of unjust treatment in detention and hardship, and in cruel separation -from his wife and child, he foreshadowed the likelihood, or the -certainty; but, beyond this, he dreaded nothing distinctly. With this on -his mind, which was enough to carry into a dreary prison courtyard, he -arrived at the prison of La Force. - -A man with a bloated face opened the strong wicket, to whom Defarge -presented "The Emigrant Evremonde." - -"What the Devil! How many more of them!" exclaimed the man with the -bloated face. - -Defarge took his receipt without noticing the exclamation, and withdrew, -with his two fellow-patriots. - -"What the Devil, I say again!" exclaimed the gaoler, left with his wife. -"How many more!" - -The gaoler's wife, being provided with no answer to the question, merely -replied, "One must have patience, my dear!" Three turnkeys who entered -responsive to a bell she rang, echoed the sentiment, and one added, "For -the love of Liberty;" which sounded in that place like an inappropriate -conclusion. - -The prison of La Force was a gloomy prison, dark and filthy, and with a -horrible smell of foul sleep in it. Extraordinary how soon the noisome -flavour of imprisoned sleep, becomes manifest in all such places that -are ill cared for! - -"In secret, too," grumbled the gaoler, looking at the written paper. "As -if I was not already full to bursting!" - -He stuck the paper on a file, in an ill-humour, and Charles Darnay -awaited his further pleasure for half an hour: sometimes, pacing to and -fro in the strong arched room: sometimes, resting on a stone seat: in -either case detained to be imprinted on the memory of the chief and his -subordinates. - -"Come!" said the chief, at length taking up his keys, "come with me, -emigrant." - -Through the dismal prison twilight, his new charge accompanied him by -corridor and staircase, many doors clanging and locking behind them, -until they came into a large, low, vaulted chamber, crowded with -prisoners of both sexes. The women were seated at a long table, reading -and writing, knitting, sewing, and embroidering; the men were for the -most part standing behind their chairs, or lingering up and down the -room. - -In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and -disgrace, the new-comer recoiled from this company. But the crowning -unreality of his long unreal ride, was, their all at once rising to -receive him, with every refinement of manner known to the time, and with -all the engaging graces and courtesies of life. - -So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and -gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and -misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand -in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost -of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of -frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all -waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes -that were changed by the death they had died in coming there. - -It struck him motionless. The gaoler standing at his side, and the other -gaolers moving about, who would have been well enough as to appearance -in the ordinary exercise of their functions, looked so extravagantly -coarse contrasted with sorrowing mothers and blooming daughters who were -there--with the apparitions of the coquette, the young beauty, and the -mature woman delicately bred--that the inversion of all experience and -likelihood which the scene of shadows presented, was heightened to its -utmost. Surely, ghosts all. Surely, the long unreal ride some progress -of disease that had brought him to these gloomy shades! - -"In the name of the assembled companions in misfortune," said a -gentleman of courtly appearance and address, coming forward, "I have the -honour of giving you welcome to La Force, and of condoling with you -on the calamity that has brought you among us. May it soon terminate -happily! It would be an impertinence elsewhere, but it is not so here, -to ask your name and condition?" - -Charles Darnay roused himself, and gave the required information, in -words as suitable as he could find. - -"But I hope," said the gentleman, following the chief gaoler with his -eyes, who moved across the room, "that you are not in secret?" - -"I do not understand the meaning of the term, but I have heard them say -so." - -"Ah, what a pity! We so much regret it! But take courage; several -members of our society have been in secret, at first, and it has lasted -but a short time." Then he added, raising his voice, "I grieve to inform -the society--in secret." - -There was a murmur of commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the room -to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him, and many voices--among -which, the soft and compassionate voices of women were conspicuous--gave -him good wishes and encouragement. He turned at the grated door, to -render the thanks of his heart; it closed under the gaoler's hand; and -the apparitions vanished from his sight forever. - -The wicket opened on a stone staircase, leading upward. When they had -ascended forty steps (the prisoner of half an hour already counted -them), the gaoler opened a low black door, and they passed into a -solitary cell. It struck cold and damp, but was not dark. - -"Yours," said the gaoler. - -"Why am I confined alone?" - -"How do I know!" - -"I can buy pen, ink, and paper?" - -"Such are not my orders. You will be visited, and can ask then. At -present, you may buy your food, and nothing more." - -There were in the cell, a chair, a table, and a straw mattress. As -the gaoler made a general inspection of these objects, and of the four -walls, before going out, a wandering fancy wandered through the mind of -the prisoner leaning against the wall opposite to him, that this gaoler -was so unwholesomely bloated, both in face and person, as to look like -a man who had been drowned and filled with water. When the gaoler was -gone, he thought in the same wandering way, "Now am I left, as if I were -dead." Stopping then, to look down at the mattress, he turned from it -with a sick feeling, and thought, "And here in these crawling creatures -is the first condition of the body after death." - -"Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five -paces by four and a half." The prisoner walked to and fro in his cell, -counting its measurement, and the roar of the city arose like muffled -drums with a wild swell of voices added to them. "He made shoes, he made -shoes, he made shoes." The prisoner counted the measurement again, and -paced faster, to draw his mind with him from that latter repetition. -"The ghosts that vanished when the wicket closed. There was one among -them, the appearance of a lady dressed in black, who was leaning in the -embrasure of a window, and she had a light shining upon her golden -hair, and she looked like * * * * Let us ride on again, for God's sake, -through the illuminated villages with the people all awake! * * * * He -made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes. * * * * Five paces by four and -a half." With such scraps tossing and rolling upward from the depths of -his mind, the prisoner walked faster and faster, obstinately counting -and counting; and the roar of the city changed to this extent--that it -still rolled in like muffled drums, but with the wail of voices that he -knew, in the swell that rose above them. - - - - -II. The Grindstone - - -Tellson's Bank, established in the Saint Germain Quarter of Paris, was -in a wing of a large house, approached by a courtyard and shut off from -the street by a high wall and a strong gate. The house belonged to -a great nobleman who had lived in it until he made a flight from the -troubles, in his own cook's dress, and got across the borders. A -mere beast of the chase flying from hunters, he was still in his -metempsychosis no other than the same Monseigneur, the preparation -of whose chocolate for whose lips had once occupied three strong men -besides the cook in question. - -Monseigneur gone, and the three strong men absolving themselves from the -sin of having drawn his high wages, by being more than ready and -willing to cut his throat on the altar of the dawning Republic one and -indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, Monseigneur's -house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, all -things moved so fast, and decree followed decree with that fierce -precipitation, that now upon the third night of the autumn month -of September, patriot emissaries of the law were in possession of -Monseigneur's house, and had marked it with the tri-colour, and were -drinking brandy in its state apartments. - -A place of business in London like Tellson's place of business in Paris, -would soon have driven the House out of its mind and into the Gazette. -For, what would staid British responsibility and respectability have -said to orange-trees in boxes in a Bank courtyard, and even to a Cupid -over the counter? Yet such things were. Tellson's had whitewashed the -Cupid, but he was still to be seen on the ceiling, in the coolest -linen, aiming (as he very often does) at money from morning to -night. Bankruptcy must inevitably have come of this young Pagan, in -Lombard-street, London, and also of a curtained alcove in the rear of -the immortal boy, and also of a looking-glass let into the wall, and -also of clerks not at all old, who danced in public on the slightest -provocation. Yet, a French Tellson's could get on with these things -exceedingly well, and, as long as the times held together, no man had -taken fright at them, and drawn out his money. - -What money would be drawn out of Tellson's henceforth, and what would -lie there, lost and forgotten; what plate and jewels would tarnish in -Tellson's hiding-places, while the depositors rusted in prisons, -and when they should have violently perished; how many accounts with -Tellson's never to be balanced in this world, must be carried over into -the next; no man could have said, that night, any more than Mr. Jarvis -Lorry could, though he thought heavily of these questions. He sat by -a newly-lighted wood fire (the blighted and unfruitful year was -prematurely cold), and on his honest and courageous face there was a -deeper shade than the pendent lamp could throw, or any object in the -room distortedly reflect--a shade of horror. - -He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of which -he had grown to be a part, like strong root-ivy. It chanced that they -derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation of the main -building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never calculated about -that. All such circumstances were indifferent to him, so that he did -his duty. On the opposite side of the courtyard, under a colonnade, -was extensive standing--for carriages--where, indeed, some carriages -of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of the pillars were fastened two -great flaring flambeaux, and in the light of these, standing out in the -open air, was a large grindstone: a roughly mounted thing which appeared -to have hurriedly been brought there from some neighbouring smithy, -or other workshop. Rising and looking out of window at these harmless -objects, Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had -opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it, and -he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame. - -From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate, there came -the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an indescribable ring -in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted sounds of a terrible -nature were going up to Heaven. - -"Thank God," said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, "that no one near and -dear to me is in this dreadful town to-night. May He have mercy on all -who are in danger!" - -Soon afterwards, the bell at the great gate sounded, and he thought, -"They have come back!" and sat listening. But, there was no loud -irruption into the courtyard, as he had expected, and he heard the gate -clash again, and all was quiet. - -The nervousness and dread that were upon him inspired that vague -uneasiness respecting the Bank, which a great change would naturally -awaken, with such feelings roused. It was well guarded, and he got up to -go among the trusty people who were watching it, when his door suddenly -opened, and two figures rushed in, at sight of which he fell back in -amazement. - -Lucie and her father! Lucie with her arms stretched out to him, and with -that old look of earnestness so concentrated and intensified, that it -seemed as though it had been stamped upon her face expressly to give -force and power to it in this one passage of her life. - -"What is this?" cried Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused. "What is the -matter? Lucie! Manette! What has happened? What has brought you here? -What is it?" - -With the look fixed upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she panted -out in his arms, imploringly, "O my dear friend! My husband!" - -"Your husband, Lucie?" - -"Charles." - -"What of Charles?" - -"Here. - -"Here, in Paris?" - -"Has been here some days--three or four--I don't know how many--I can't -collect my thoughts. An errand of generosity brought him here unknown to -us; he was stopped at the barrier, and sent to prison." - -The old man uttered an irrepressible cry. Almost at the same moment, the -bell of the great gate rang again, and a loud noise of feet and voices -came pouring into the courtyard. - -"What is that noise?" said the Doctor, turning towards the window. - -"Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry. "Don't look out! Manette, for your life, -don't touch the blind!" - -The Doctor turned, with his hand upon the fastening of the window, and -said, with a cool, bold smile: - -"My dear friend, I have a charmed life in this city. I have been -a Bastille prisoner. There is no patriot in Paris--in Paris? In -France--who, knowing me to have been a prisoner in the Bastille, would -touch me, except to overwhelm me with embraces, or carry me in triumph. -My old pain has given me a power that has brought us through the -barrier, and gained us news of Charles there, and brought us here. I -knew it would be so; I knew I could help Charles out of all danger; I -told Lucie so.--What is that noise?" His hand was again upon the window. - -"Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry, absolutely desperate. "No, Lucie, my -dear, nor you!" He got his arm round her, and held her. "Don't be so -terrified, my love. I solemnly swear to you that I know of no harm -having happened to Charles; that I had no suspicion even of his being in -this fatal place. What prison is he in?" - -"La Force!" - -"La Force! Lucie, my child, if ever you were brave and serviceable in -your life--and you were always both--you will compose yourself now, to -do exactly as I bid you; for more depends upon it than you can think, or -I can say. There is no help for you in any action on your part to-night; -you cannot possibly stir out. I say this, because what I must bid you -to do for Charles's sake, is the hardest thing to do of all. You must -instantly be obedient, still, and quiet. You must let me put you in a -room at the back here. You must leave your father and me alone for -two minutes, and as there are Life and Death in the world you must not -delay." - -"I will be submissive to you. I see in your face that you know I can do -nothing else than this. I know you are true." - -The old man kissed her, and hurried her into his room, and turned the -key; then, came hurrying back to the Doctor, and opened the window and -partly opened the blind, and put his hand upon the Doctor's arm, and -looked out with him into the courtyard. - -Looked out upon a throng of men and women: not enough in number, or near -enough, to fill the courtyard: not more than forty or fifty in all. The -people in possession of the house had let them in at the gate, and they -had rushed in to work at the grindstone; it had evidently been set up -there for their purpose, as in a convenient and retired spot. - -But, such awful workers, and such awful work! - -The grindstone had a double handle, and, turning at it madly were two -men, whose faces, as their long hair flapped back when the whirlings of -the grindstone brought their faces up, were more horrible and cruel than -the visages of the wildest savages in their most barbarous disguise. -False eyebrows and false moustaches were stuck upon them, and their -hideous countenances were all bloody and sweaty, and all awry with -howling, and all staring and glaring with beastly excitement and want of -sleep. As these ruffians turned and turned, their matted locks now flung -forward over their eyes, now flung backward over their necks, some women -held wine to their mouths that they might drink; and what with dropping -blood, and what with dropping wine, and what with the stream of sparks -struck out of the stone, all their wicked atmosphere seemed gore and -fire. The eye could not detect one creature in the group free from -the smear of blood. Shouldering one another to get next at the -sharpening-stone, were men stripped to the waist, with the stain all -over their limbs and bodies; men in all sorts of rags, with the stain -upon those rags; men devilishly set off with spoils of women's lace -and silk and ribbon, with the stain dyeing those trifles through -and through. Hatchets, knives, bayonets, swords, all brought to be -sharpened, were all red with it. Some of the hacked swords were tied to -the wrists of those who carried them, with strips of linen and fragments -of dress: ligatures various in kind, but all deep of the one colour. And -as the frantic wielders of these weapons snatched them from the stream -of sparks and tore away into the streets, the same red hue was red in -their frenzied eyes;--eyes which any unbrutalised beholder would have -given twenty years of life, to petrify with a well-directed gun. - -All this was seen in a moment, as the vision of a drowning man, or of -any human creature at any very great pass, could see a world if it -were there. They drew back from the window, and the Doctor looked for -explanation in his friend's ashy face. - -"They are," Mr. Lorry whispered the words, glancing fearfully round at -the locked room, "murdering the prisoners. If you are sure of what you -say; if you really have the power you think you have--as I believe you -have--make yourself known to these devils, and get taken to La Force. It -may be too late, I don't know, but let it not be a minute later!" - -Doctor Manette pressed his hand, hastened bareheaded out of the room, -and was in the courtyard when Mr. Lorry regained the blind. - -His streaming white hair, his remarkable face, and the impetuous -confidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water, -carried him in an instant to the heart of the concourse at the stone. -For a few moments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmur, and -the unintelligible sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw him, -surrounded by all, and in the midst of a line of twenty men long, all -linked shoulder to shoulder, and hand to shoulder, hurried out with -cries of--"Live the Bastille prisoner! Help for the Bastille prisoner's -kindred in La Force! Room for the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save -the prisoner Evremonde at La Force!" and a thousand answering shouts. - -He closed the lattice again with a fluttering heart, closed the window -and the curtain, hastened to Lucie, and told her that her father was -assisted by the people, and gone in search of her husband. He found -her child and Miss Pross with her; but, it never occurred to him to be -surprised by their appearance until a long time afterwards, when he sat -watching them in such quiet as the night knew. - -Lucie had, by that time, fallen into a stupor on the floor at his feet, -clinging to his hand. Miss Pross had laid the child down on his own -bed, and her head had gradually fallen on the pillow beside her pretty -charge. O the long, long night, with the moans of the poor wife! And O -the long, long night, with no return of her father and no tidings! - -Twice more in the darkness the bell at the great gate sounded, and the -irruption was repeated, and the grindstone whirled and spluttered. -"What is it?" cried Lucie, affrighted. "Hush! The soldiers' swords are -sharpened there," said Mr. Lorry. "The place is national property now, -and used as a kind of armoury, my love." - -Twice more in all; but, the last spell of work was feeble and fitful. -Soon afterwards the day began to dawn, and he softly detached himself -from the clasping hand, and cautiously looked out again. A man, so -besmeared that he might have been a sorely wounded soldier creeping back -to consciousness on a field of slain, was rising from the pavement by -the side of the grindstone, and looking about him with a vacant air. -Shortly, this worn-out murderer descried in the imperfect light one of -the carriages of Monseigneur, and, staggering to that gorgeous vehicle, -climbed in at the door, and shut himself up to take his rest on its -dainty cushions. - -The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, -and the sun was red on the courtyard. But, the lesser grindstone stood -alone there in the calm morning air, with a red upon it that the sun had -never given, and would never take away. - - - - -III. The Shadow - - -One of the first considerations which arose in the business mind of Mr. -Lorry when business hours came round, was this:--that he had no right to -imperil Tellson's by sheltering the wife of an emigrant prisoner under -the Bank roof. His own possessions, safety, life, he would have hazarded -for Lucie and her child, without a moment's demur; but the great trust -he held was not his own, and as to that business charge he was a strict -man of business. - -At first, his mind reverted to Defarge, and he thought of finding out -the wine-shop again and taking counsel with its master in reference to -the safest dwelling-place in the distracted state of the city. But, the -same consideration that suggested him, repudiated him; he lived in the -most violent Quarter, and doubtless was influential there, and deep in -its dangerous workings. - -Noon coming, and the Doctor not returning, and every minute's delay -tending to compromise Tellson's, Mr. Lorry advised with Lucie. She said -that her father had spoken of hiring a lodging for a short term, in that -Quarter, near the Banking-house. As there was no business objection to -this, and as he foresaw that even if it were all well with Charles, and -he were to be released, he could not hope to leave the city, Mr. Lorry -went out in quest of such a lodging, and found a suitable one, high up -in a removed by-street where the closed blinds in all the other windows -of a high melancholy square of buildings marked deserted homes. - -To this lodging he at once removed Lucie and her child, and Miss Pross: -giving them what comfort he could, and much more than he had himself. -He left Jerry with them, as a figure to fill a doorway that would bear -considerable knocking on the head, and returned to his own occupations. -A disturbed and doleful mind he brought to bear upon them, and slowly -and heavily the day lagged on with him. - -It wore itself out, and wore him out with it, until the Bank closed. He -was again alone in his room of the previous night, considering what to -do next, when he heard a foot upon the stair. In a few moments, a -man stood in his presence, who, with a keenly observant look at him, -addressed him by his name. - -"Your servant," said Mr. Lorry. "Do you know me?" - -He was a strongly made man with dark curling hair, from forty-five -to fifty years of age. For answer he repeated, without any change of -emphasis, the words: - -"Do you know me?" - -"I have seen you somewhere." - -"Perhaps at my wine-shop?" - -Much interested and agitated, Mr. Lorry said: "You come from Doctor -Manette?" - -"Yes. I come from Doctor Manette." - -"And what says he? What does he send me?" - -Defarge gave into his anxious hand, an open scrap of paper. It bore the -words in the Doctor's writing: - - "Charles is safe, but I cannot safely leave this place yet. - I have obtained the favour that the bearer has a short note - from Charles to his wife. Let the bearer see his wife." - -It was dated from La Force, within an hour. - -"Will you accompany me," said Mr. Lorry, joyfully relieved after reading -this note aloud, "to where his wife resides?" - -"Yes," returned Defarge. - -Scarcely noticing as yet, in what a curiously reserved and mechanical -way Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into the -courtyard. There, they found two women; one, knitting. - -"Madame Defarge, surely!" said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactly -the same attitude some seventeen years ago. - -"It is she," observed her husband. - -"Does Madame go with us?" inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she moved as -they moved. - -"Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the persons. -It is for their safety." - -Beginning to be struck by Defarge's manner, Mr. Lorry looked dubiously -at him, and led the way. Both the women followed; the second woman being -The Vengeance. - -They passed through the intervening streets as quickly as they might, -ascended the staircase of the new domicile, were admitted by Jerry, -and found Lucie weeping, alone. She was thrown into a transport by the -tidings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husband, and clasped the hand that -delivered his note--little thinking what it had been doing near him in -the night, and might, but for a chance, have done to him. - - "DEAREST,--Take courage. I am well, and your father has - influence around me. You cannot answer this. - Kiss our child for me." - -That was all the writing. It was so much, however, to her who received -it, that she turned from Defarge to his wife, and kissed one of the -hands that knitted. It was a passionate, loving, thankful, womanly -action, but the hand made no response--dropped cold and heavy, and took -to its knitting again. - -There was something in its touch that gave Lucie a check. She stopped in -the act of putting the note in her bosom, and, with her hands yet at her -neck, looked terrified at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met the lifted -eyebrows and forehead with a cold, impassive stare. - -"My dear," said Mr. Lorry, striking in to explain; "there are frequent -risings in the streets; and, although it is not likely they will ever -trouble you, Madame Defarge wishes to see those whom she has the power -to protect at such times, to the end that she may know them--that she -may identify them. I believe," said Mr. Lorry, rather halting in his -reassuring words, as the stony manner of all the three impressed itself -upon him more and more, "I state the case, Citizen Defarge?" - -Defarge looked gloomily at his wife, and gave no other answer than a -gruff sound of acquiescence. - -"You had better, Lucie," said Mr. Lorry, doing all he could to -propitiate, by tone and manner, "have the dear child here, and our -good Pross. Our good Pross, Defarge, is an English lady, and knows no -French." - -The lady in question, whose rooted conviction that she was more than a -match for any foreigner, was not to be shaken by distress and, danger, -appeared with folded arms, and observed in English to The Vengeance, -whom her eyes first encountered, "Well, I am sure, Boldface! I hope -_you_ are pretty well!" She also bestowed a British cough on Madame -Defarge; but, neither of the two took much heed of her. - -"Is that his child?" said Madame Defarge, stopping in her work for the -first time, and pointing her knitting-needle at little Lucie as if it -were the finger of Fate. - -"Yes, madame," answered Mr. Lorry; "this is our poor prisoner's darling -daughter, and only child." - -The shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed to fall so -threatening and dark on the child, that her mother instinctively -kneeled on the ground beside her, and held her to her breast. The -shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed then to fall, -threatening and dark, on both the mother and the child. - -"It is enough, my husband," said Madame Defarge. "I have seen them. We -may go." - -But, the suppressed manner had enough of menace in it--not visible and -presented, but indistinct and withheld--to alarm Lucie into saying, as -she laid her appealing hand on Madame Defarge's dress: - -"You will be good to my poor husband. You will do him no harm. You will -help me to see him if you can?" - -"Your husband is not my business here," returned Madame Defarge, looking -down at her with perfect composure. "It is the daughter of your father -who is my business here." - -"For my sake, then, be merciful to my husband. For my child's sake! She -will put her hands together and pray you to be merciful. We are more -afraid of you than of these others." - -Madame Defarge received it as a compliment, and looked at her husband. -Defarge, who had been uneasily biting his thumb-nail and looking at her, -collected his face into a sterner expression. - -"What is it that your husband says in that little letter?" asked Madame -Defarge, with a lowering smile. "Influence; he says something touching -influence?" - -"That my father," said Lucie, hurriedly taking the paper from her -breast, but with her alarmed eyes on her questioner and not on it, "has -much influence around him." - -"Surely it will release him!" said Madame Defarge. "Let it do so." - -"As a wife and mother," cried Lucie, most earnestly, "I implore you to -have pity on me and not to exercise any power that you possess, against -my innocent husband, but to use it in his behalf. O sister-woman, think -of me. As a wife and mother!" - -Madame Defarge looked, coldly as ever, at the suppliant, and said, -turning to her friend The Vengeance: - -"The wives and mothers we have been used to see, since we were as little -as this child, and much less, have not been greatly considered? We have -known _their_ husbands and fathers laid in prison and kept from them, -often enough? All our lives, we have seen our sister-women suffer, in -themselves and in their children, poverty, nakedness, hunger, thirst, -sickness, misery, oppression and neglect of all kinds?" - -"We have seen nothing else," returned The Vengeance. - -"We have borne this a long time," said Madame Defarge, turning her eyes -again upon Lucie. "Judge you! Is it likely that the trouble of one wife -and mother would be much to us now?" - -She resumed her knitting and went out. The Vengeance followed. Defarge -went last, and closed the door. - -"Courage, my dear Lucie," said Mr. Lorry, as he raised her. "Courage, -courage! So far all goes well with us--much, much better than it has of -late gone with many poor souls. Cheer up, and have a thankful heart." - -"I am not thankless, I hope, but that dreadful woman seems to throw a -shadow on me and on all my hopes." - -"Tut, tut!" said Mr. Lorry; "what is this despondency in the brave -little breast? A shadow indeed! No substance in it, Lucie." - -But the shadow of the manner of these Defarges was dark upon himself, -for all that, and in his secret mind it troubled him greatly. - - - - -IV. Calm in Storm - - -Doctor Manette did not return until the morning of the fourth day of his -absence. So much of what had happened in that dreadful time as could be -kept from the knowledge of Lucie was so well concealed from her, that -not until long afterwards, when France and she were far apart, did she -know that eleven hundred defenceless prisoners of both sexes and all -ages had been killed by the populace; that four days and nights had been -darkened by this deed of horror; and that the air around her had been -tainted by the slain. She only knew that there had been an attack upon -the prisons, that all political prisoners had been in danger, and that -some had been dragged out by the crowd and murdered. - -To Mr. Lorry, the Doctor communicated under an injunction of secrecy on -which he had no need to dwell, that the crowd had taken him through a -scene of carnage to the prison of La Force. That, in the prison he had -found a self-appointed Tribunal sitting, before which the prisoners were -brought singly, and by which they were rapidly ordered to be put forth -to be massacred, or to be released, or (in a few cases) to be sent back -to their cells. That, presented by his conductors to this Tribunal, he -had announced himself by name and profession as having been for eighteen -years a secret and unaccused prisoner in the Bastille; that, one of the -body so sitting in judgment had risen and identified him, and that this -man was Defarge. - -That, hereupon he had ascertained, through the registers on the table, -that his son-in-law was among the living prisoners, and had pleaded hard -to the Tribunal--of whom some members were asleep and some awake, some -dirty with murder and some clean, some sober and some not--for his life -and liberty. That, in the first frantic greetings lavished on himself as -a notable sufferer under the overthrown system, it had been accorded -to him to have Charles Darnay brought before the lawless Court, and -examined. That, he seemed on the point of being at once released, when -the tide in his favour met with some unexplained check (not intelligible -to the Doctor), which led to a few words of secret conference. That, -the man sitting as President had then informed Doctor Manette that -the prisoner must remain in custody, but should, for his sake, be held -inviolate in safe custody. That, immediately, on a signal, the prisoner -was removed to the interior of the prison again; but, that he, the -Doctor, had then so strongly pleaded for permission to remain and -assure himself that his son-in-law was, through no malice or mischance, -delivered to the concourse whose murderous yells outside the gate had -often drowned the proceedings, that he had obtained the permission, and -had remained in that Hall of Blood until the danger was over. - -The sights he had seen there, with brief snatches of food and sleep by -intervals, shall remain untold. The mad joy over the prisoners who were -saved, had astounded him scarcely less than the mad ferocity against -those who were cut to pieces. One prisoner there was, he said, who had -been discharged into the street free, but at whom a mistaken savage had -thrust a pike as he passed out. Being besought to go to him and dress -the wound, the Doctor had passed out at the same gate, and had found him -in the arms of a company of Samaritans, who were seated on the bodies -of their victims. With an inconsistency as monstrous as anything in this -awful nightmare, they had helped the healer, and tended the wounded man -with the gentlest solicitude--had made a litter for him and escorted him -carefully from the spot--had then caught up their weapons and plunged -anew into a butchery so dreadful, that the Doctor had covered his eyes -with his hands, and swooned away in the midst of it. - -As Mr. Lorry received these confidences, and as he watched the face of -his friend now sixty-two years of age, a misgiving arose within him that -such dread experiences would revive the old danger. - -But, he had never seen his friend in his present aspect: he had never -at all known him in his present character. For the first time the Doctor -felt, now, that his suffering was strength and power. For the first time -he felt that in that sharp fire, he had slowly forged the iron which -could break the prison door of his daughter's husband, and deliver him. -"It all tended to a good end, my friend; it was not mere waste and ruin. -As my beloved child was helpful in restoring me to myself, I will be -helpful now in restoring the dearest part of herself to her; by the aid -of Heaven I will do it!" Thus, Doctor Manette. And when Jarvis Lorry saw -the kindled eyes, the resolute face, the calm strong look and bearing -of the man whose life always seemed to him to have been stopped, like a -clock, for so many years, and then set going again with an energy which -had lain dormant during the cessation of its usefulness, he believed. - -Greater things than the Doctor had at that time to contend with, would -have yielded before his persevering purpose. While he kept himself -in his place, as a physician, whose business was with all degrees -of mankind, bond and free, rich and poor, bad and good, he used his -personal influence so wisely, that he was soon the inspecting physician -of three prisons, and among them of La Force. He could now assure Lucie -that her husband was no longer confined alone, but was mixed with the -general body of prisoners; he saw her husband weekly, and brought sweet -messages to her, straight from his lips; sometimes her husband himself -sent a letter to her (though never by the Doctor's hand), but she was -not permitted to write to him: for, among the many wild suspicions of -plots in the prisons, the wildest of all pointed at emigrants who were -known to have made friends or permanent connections abroad. - -This new life of the Doctor's was an anxious life, no doubt; still, the -sagacious Mr. Lorry saw that there was a new sustaining pride in it. -Nothing unbecoming tinged the pride; it was a natural and worthy one; -but he observed it as a curiosity. The Doctor knew, that up to that -time, his imprisonment had been associated in the minds of his daughter -and his friend, with his personal affliction, deprivation, and weakness. -Now that this was changed, and he knew himself to be invested through -that old trial with forces to which they both looked for Charles's -ultimate safety and deliverance, he became so far exalted by the change, -that he took the lead and direction, and required them as the weak, to -trust to him as the strong. The preceding relative positions of himself -and Lucie were reversed, yet only as the liveliest gratitude and -affection could reverse them, for he could have had no pride but in -rendering some service to her who had rendered so much to him. "All -curious to see," thought Mr. Lorry, in his amiably shrewd way, "but all -natural and right; so, take the lead, my dear friend, and keep it; it -couldn't be in better hands." - -But, though the Doctor tried hard, and never ceased trying, to get -Charles Darnay set at liberty, or at least to get him brought to trial, -the public current of the time set too strong and fast for him. The new -era began; the king was tried, doomed, and beheaded; the Republic of -Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, declared for victory or death -against the world in arms; the black flag waved night and day from the -great towers of Notre Dame; three hundred thousand men, summoned to rise -against the tyrants of the earth, rose from all the varying soils -of France, as if the dragon's teeth had been sown broadcast, and -had yielded fruit equally on hill and plain, on rock, in gravel, and -alluvial mud, under the bright sky of the South and under the clouds of -the North, in fell and forest, in the vineyards and the olive-grounds -and among the cropped grass and the stubble of the corn, along the -fruitful banks of the broad rivers, and in the sand of the sea-shore. -What private solicitude could rear itself against the deluge of the Year -One of Liberty--the deluge rising from below, not falling from above, -and with the windows of Heaven shut, not opened! - -There was no pause, no pity, no peace, no interval of relenting rest, no -measurement of time. Though days and nights circled as regularly as when -time was young, and the evening and morning were the first day, other -count of time there was none. Hold of it was lost in the raging fever -of a nation, as it is in the fever of one patient. Now, breaking the -unnatural silence of a whole city, the executioner showed the people the -head of the king--and now, it seemed almost in the same breath, the -head of his fair wife which had had eight weary months of imprisoned -widowhood and misery, to turn it grey. - -And yet, observing the strange law of contradiction which obtains in -all such cases, the time was long, while it flamed by so fast. A -revolutionary tribunal in the capital, and forty or fifty thousand -revolutionary committees all over the land; a law of the Suspected, -which struck away all security for liberty or life, and delivered over -any good and innocent person to any bad and guilty one; prisons gorged -with people who had committed no offence, and could obtain no hearing; -these things became the established order and nature of appointed -things, and seemed to be ancient usage before they were many weeks old. -Above all, one hideous figure grew as familiar as if it had been before -the general gaze from the foundations of the world--the figure of the -sharp female called La Guillotine. - -It was the popular theme for jests; it was the best cure for headache, -it infallibly prevented the hair from turning grey, it imparted a -peculiar delicacy to the complexion, it was the National Razor which -shaved close: who kissed La Guillotine, looked through the little window -and sneezed into the sack. It was the sign of the regeneration of the -human race. It superseded the Cross. Models of it were worn on breasts -from which the Cross was discarded, and it was bowed down to and -believed in where the Cross was denied. - -It sheared off heads so many, that it, and the ground it most polluted, -were a rotten red. It was taken to pieces, like a toy-puzzle for a young -Devil, and was put together again when the occasion wanted it. It hushed -the eloquent, struck down the powerful, abolished the beautiful and -good. Twenty-two friends of high public mark, twenty-one living and one -dead, it had lopped the heads off, in one morning, in as many minutes. -The name of the strong man of Old Scripture had descended to the chief -functionary who worked it; but, so armed, he was stronger than his -namesake, and blinder, and tore away the gates of God's own Temple every -day. - -Among these terrors, and the brood belonging to them, the Doctor walked -with a steady head: confident in his power, cautiously persistent in his -end, never doubting that he would save Lucie's husband at last. Yet the -current of the time swept by, so strong and deep, and carried the time -away so fiercely, that Charles had lain in prison one year and three -months when the Doctor was thus steady and confident. So much more -wicked and distracted had the Revolution grown in that December month, -that the rivers of the South were encumbered with the bodies of the -violently drowned by night, and prisoners were shot in lines and squares -under the southern wintry sun. Still, the Doctor walked among the -terrors with a steady head. No man better known than he, in Paris at -that day; no man in a stranger situation. Silent, humane, indispensable -in hospital and prison, using his art equally among assassins and -victims, he was a man apart. In the exercise of his skill, the -appearance and the story of the Bastille Captive removed him from all -other men. He was not suspected or brought in question, any more than if -he had indeed been recalled to life some eighteen years before, or were -a Spirit moving among mortals. - - - - -V. The Wood-Sawyer - - -One year and three months. During all that time Lucie was never -sure, from hour to hour, but that the Guillotine would strike off her -husband's head next day. Every day, through the stony streets, the -tumbrils now jolted heavily, filled with Condemned. Lovely girls; bright -women, brown-haired, black-haired, and grey; youths; stalwart men and -old; gentle born and peasant born; all red wine for La Guillotine, all -daily brought into light from the dark cellars of the loathsome prisons, -and carried to her through the streets to slake her devouring thirst. -Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death;--the last, much the easiest to -bestow, O Guillotine! - -If the suddenness of her calamity, and the whirling wheels of the time, -had stunned the Doctor's daughter into awaiting the result in idle -despair, it would but have been with her as it was with many. But, from -the hour when she had taken the white head to her fresh young bosom in -the garret of Saint Antoine, she had been true to her duties. She was -truest to them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good -will always be. - -As soon as they were established in their new residence, and her father -had entered on the routine of his avocations, she arranged the little -household as exactly as if her husband had been there. Everything had -its appointed place and its appointed time. Little Lucie she taught, -as regularly, as if they had all been united in their English home. The -slight devices with which she cheated herself into the show of a belief -that they would soon be reunited--the little preparations for his speedy -return, the setting aside of his chair and his books--these, and the -solemn prayer at night for one dear prisoner especially, among the many -unhappy souls in prison and the shadow of death--were almost the only -outspoken reliefs of her heavy mind. - -She did not greatly alter in appearance. The plain dark dresses, akin to -mourning dresses, which she and her child wore, were as neat and as well -attended to as the brighter clothes of happy days. She lost her colour, -and the old and intent expression was a constant, not an occasional, -thing; otherwise, she remained very pretty and comely. Sometimes, at -night on kissing her father, she would burst into the grief she had -repressed all day, and would say that her sole reliance, under Heaven, -was on him. He always resolutely answered: "Nothing can happen to him -without my knowledge, and I know that I can save him, Lucie." - -They had not made the round of their changed life many weeks, when her -father said to her, on coming home one evening: - -"My dear, there is an upper window in the prison, to which Charles can -sometimes gain access at three in the afternoon. When he can get to -it--which depends on many uncertainties and incidents--he might see you -in the street, he thinks, if you stood in a certain place that I can -show you. But you will not be able to see him, my poor child, and even -if you could, it would be unsafe for you to make a sign of recognition." - -"O show me the place, my father, and I will go there every day." - -From that time, in all weathers, she waited there two hours. As the -clock struck two, she was there, and at four she turned resignedly away. -When it was not too wet or inclement for her child to be with her, they -went together; at other times she was alone; but, she never missed a -single day. - -It was the dark and dirty corner of a small winding street. The hovel -of a cutter of wood into lengths for burning, was the only house at that -end; all else was wall. On the third day of her being there, he noticed -her. - -"Good day, citizeness." - -"Good day, citizen." - -This mode of address was now prescribed by decree. It had been -established voluntarily some time ago, among the more thorough patriots; -but, was now law for everybody. - -"Walking here again, citizeness?" - -"You see me, citizen!" - -The wood-sawyer, who was a little man with a redundancy of gesture (he -had once been a mender of roads), cast a glance at the prison, pointed -at the prison, and putting his ten fingers before his face to represent -bars, peeped through them jocosely. - -"But it's not my business," said he. And went on sawing his wood. - -Next day he was looking out for her, and accosted her the moment she -appeared. - -"What? Walking here again, citizeness?" - -"Yes, citizen." - -"Ah! A child too! Your mother, is it not, my little citizeness?" - -"Do I say yes, mamma?" whispered little Lucie, drawing close to her. - -"Yes, dearest." - -"Yes, citizen." - -"Ah! But it's not my business. My work is my business. See my saw! I -call it my Little Guillotine. La, la, la; La, la, la! And off his head -comes!" - -The billet fell as he spoke, and he threw it into a basket. - -"I call myself the Samson of the firewood guillotine. See here again! -Loo, loo, loo; Loo, loo, loo! And off _her_ head comes! Now, a child. -Tickle, tickle; Pickle, pickle! And off _its_ head comes. All the -family!" - -Lucie shuddered as he threw two more billets into his basket, but it was -impossible to be there while the wood-sawyer was at work, and not be in -his sight. Thenceforth, to secure his good will, she always spoke to him -first, and often gave him drink-money, which he readily received. - -He was an inquisitive fellow, and sometimes when she had quite forgotten -him in gazing at the prison roof and grates, and in lifting her heart -up to her husband, she would come to herself to find him looking at her, -with his knee on his bench and his saw stopped in its work. "But it's -not my business!" he would generally say at those times, and would -briskly fall to his sawing again. - -In all weathers, in the snow and frost of winter, in the bitter winds of -spring, in the hot sunshine of summer, in the rains of autumn, and again -in the snow and frost of winter, Lucie passed two hours of every day at -this place; and every day on leaving it, she kissed the prison wall. -Her husband saw her (so she learned from her father) it might be once in -five or six times: it might be twice or thrice running: it might be, not -for a week or a fortnight together. It was enough that he could and did -see her when the chances served, and on that possibility she would have -waited out the day, seven days a week. - -These occupations brought her round to the December month, wherein her -father walked among the terrors with a steady head. On a lightly-snowing -afternoon she arrived at the usual corner. It was a day of some wild -rejoicing, and a festival. She had seen the houses, as she came along, -decorated with little pikes, and with little red caps stuck upon them; -also, with tricoloured ribbons; also, with the standard inscription -(tricoloured letters were the favourite), Republic One and Indivisible. -Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death! - -The miserable shop of the wood-sawyer was so small, that its whole -surface furnished very indifferent space for this legend. He had got -somebody to scrawl it up for him, however, who had squeezed Death in -with most inappropriate difficulty. On his house-top, he displayed pike -and cap, as a good citizen must, and in a window he had stationed his -saw inscribed as his "Little Sainte Guillotine"--for the great sharp -female was by that time popularly canonised. His shop was shut and he -was not there, which was a relief to Lucie, and left her quite alone. - -But, he was not far off, for presently she heard a troubled movement -and a shouting coming along, which filled her with fear. A moment -afterwards, and a throng of people came pouring round the corner by the -prison wall, in the midst of whom was the wood-sawyer hand in hand with -The Vengeance. There could not be fewer than five hundred people, and -they were dancing like five thousand demons. There was no other music -than their own singing. They danced to the popular Revolution song, -keeping a ferocious time that was like a gnashing of teeth in unison. -Men and women danced together, women danced together, men danced -together, as hazard had brought them together. At first, they were a -mere storm of coarse red caps and coarse woollen rags; but, as they -filled the place, and stopped to dance about Lucie, some ghastly -apparition of a dance-figure gone raving mad arose among them. They -advanced, retreated, struck at one another's hands, clutched at one -another's heads, spun round alone, caught one another and spun round -in pairs, until many of them dropped. While those were down, the rest -linked hand in hand, and all spun round together: then the ring broke, -and in separate rings of two and four they turned and turned until they -all stopped at once, began again, struck, clutched, and tore, and then -reversed the spin, and all spun round another way. Suddenly they stopped -again, paused, struck out the time afresh, formed into lines the width -of the public way, and, with their heads low down and their hands high -up, swooped screaming off. No fight could have been half so terrible -as this dance. It was so emphatically a fallen sport--a something, once -innocent, delivered over to all devilry--a healthy pastime changed into -a means of angering the blood, bewildering the senses, and steeling the -heart. Such grace as was visible in it, made it the uglier, showing how -warped and perverted all things good by nature were become. The maidenly -bosom bared to this, the pretty almost-child's head thus distracted, the -delicate foot mincing in this slough of blood and dirt, were types of -the disjointed time. - -This was the Carmagnole. As it passed, leaving Lucie frightened and -bewildered in the doorway of the wood-sawyer's house, the feathery snow -fell as quietly and lay as white and soft, as if it had never been. - -"O my father!" for he stood before her when she lifted up the eyes she -had momentarily darkened with her hand; "such a cruel, bad sight." - -"I know, my dear, I know. I have seen it many times. Don't be -frightened! Not one of them would harm you." - -"I am not frightened for myself, my father. But when I think of my -husband, and the mercies of these people--" - -"We will set him above their mercies very soon. I left him climbing to -the window, and I came to tell you. There is no one here to see. You may -kiss your hand towards that highest shelving roof." - -"I do so, father, and I send him my Soul with it!" - -"You cannot see him, my poor dear?" - -"No, father," said Lucie, yearning and weeping as she kissed her hand, -"no." - -A footstep in the snow. Madame Defarge. "I salute you, citizeness," -from the Doctor. "I salute you, citizen." This in passing. Nothing more. -Madame Defarge gone, like a shadow over the white road. - -"Give me your arm, my love. Pass from here with an air of cheerfulness -and courage, for his sake. That was well done;" they had left the spot; -"it shall not be in vain. Charles is summoned for to-morrow." - -"For to-morrow!" - -"There is no time to lose. I am well prepared, but there are precautions -to be taken, that could not be taken until he was actually summoned -before the Tribunal. He has not received the notice yet, but I know -that he will presently be summoned for to-morrow, and removed to the -Conciergerie; I have timely information. You are not afraid?" - -She could scarcely answer, "I trust in you." - -"Do so, implicitly. Your suspense is nearly ended, my darling; he shall -be restored to you within a few hours; I have encompassed him with every -protection. I must see Lorry." - -He stopped. There was a heavy lumbering of wheels within hearing. They -both knew too well what it meant. One. Two. Three. Three tumbrils faring -away with their dread loads over the hushing snow. - -"I must see Lorry," the Doctor repeated, turning her another way. - -The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left it. He -and his books were in frequent requisition as to property confiscated -and made national. What he could save for the owners, he saved. No -better man living to hold fast by what Tellson's had in keeping, and to -hold his peace. - -A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine, denoted -the approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they arrived at the -Bank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was altogether blighted and -deserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes in the court, ran the letters: -National Property. Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, -Fraternity, or Death! - -Who could that be with Mr. Lorry--the owner of the riding-coat upon the -chair--who must not be seen? From whom newly arrived, did he come out, -agitated and surprised, to take his favourite in his arms? To whom did -he appear to repeat her faltering words, when, raising his voice and -turning his head towards the door of the room from which he had issued, -he said: "Removed to the Conciergerie, and summoned for to-morrow?" - - - - -VI. Triumph - - -The dread tribunal of five Judges, Public Prosecutor, and determined -Jury, sat every day. Their lists went forth every evening, and were -read out by the gaolers of the various prisons to their prisoners. The -standard gaoler-joke was, "Come out and listen to the Evening Paper, you -inside there!" - -"Charles Evremonde, called Darnay!" - -So at last began the Evening Paper at La Force. - -When a name was called, its owner stepped apart into a spot reserved -for those who were announced as being thus fatally recorded. Charles -Evremonde, called Darnay, had reason to know the usage; he had seen -hundreds pass away so. - -His bloated gaoler, who wore spectacles to read with, glanced over them -to assure himself that he had taken his place, and went through the -list, making a similar short pause at each name. There were twenty-three -names, but only twenty were responded to; for one of the prisoners so -summoned had died in gaol and been forgotten, and two had already been -guillotined and forgotten. The list was read, in the vaulted chamber -where Darnay had seen the associated prisoners on the night of his -arrival. Every one of those had perished in the massacre; every human -creature he had since cared for and parted with, had died on the -scaffold. - -There were hurried words of farewell and kindness, but the parting was -soon over. It was the incident of every day, and the society of La Force -were engaged in the preparation of some games of forfeits and a little -concert, for that evening. They crowded to the grates and shed tears -there; but, twenty places in the projected entertainments had to be -refilled, and the time was, at best, short to the lock-up hour, when the -common rooms and corridors would be delivered over to the great dogs -who kept watch there through the night. The prisoners were far from -insensible or unfeeling; their ways arose out of the condition of the -time. Similarly, though with a subtle difference, a species of fervour -or intoxication, known, without doubt, to have led some persons to -brave the guillotine unnecessarily, and to die by it, was not mere -boastfulness, but a wild infection of the wildly shaken public mind. In -seasons of pestilence, some of us will have a secret attraction to the -disease--a terrible passing inclination to die of it. And all of us have -like wonders hidden in our breasts, only needing circumstances to evoke -them. - -The passage to the Conciergerie was short and dark; the night in its -vermin-haunted cells was long and cold. Next day, fifteen prisoners were -put to the bar before Charles Darnay's name was called. All the fifteen -were condemned, and the trials of the whole occupied an hour and a half. - -"Charles Evremonde, called Darnay," was at length arraigned. - -His judges sat upon the Bench in feathered hats; but the rough red cap -and tricoloured cockade was the head-dress otherwise prevailing. Looking -at the Jury and the turbulent audience, he might have thought that the -usual order of things was reversed, and that the felons were trying the -honest men. The lowest, cruelest, and worst populace of a city, never -without its quantity of low, cruel, and bad, were the directing -spirits of the scene: noisily commenting, applauding, disapproving, -anticipating, and precipitating the result, without a check. Of the men, -the greater part were armed in various ways; of the women, some wore -knives, some daggers, some ate and drank as they looked on, many -knitted. Among these last, was one, with a spare piece of knitting under -her arm as she worked. She was in a front row, by the side of a man whom -he had never seen since his arrival at the Barrier, but whom he directly -remembered as Defarge. He noticed that she once or twice whispered in -his ear, and that she seemed to be his wife; but, what he most noticed -in the two figures was, that although they were posted as close to -himself as they could be, they never looked towards him. They seemed to -be waiting for something with a dogged determination, and they looked at -the Jury, but at nothing else. Under the President sat Doctor Manette, -in his usual quiet dress. As well as the prisoner could see, he and Mr. -Lorry were the only men there, unconnected with the Tribunal, who -wore their usual clothes, and had not assumed the coarse garb of the -Carmagnole. - -Charles Evremonde, called Darnay, was accused by the public prosecutor -as an emigrant, whose life was forfeit to the Republic, under the decree -which banished all emigrants on pain of Death. It was nothing that the -decree bore date since his return to France. There he was, and there was -the decree; he had been taken in France, and his head was demanded. - -"Take off his head!" cried the audience. "An enemy to the Republic!" - -The President rang his bell to silence those cries, and asked the -prisoner whether it was not true that he had lived many years in -England? - -Undoubtedly it was. - -Was he not an emigrant then? What did he call himself? - -Not an emigrant, he hoped, within the sense and spirit of the law. - -Why not? the President desired to know. - -Because he had voluntarily relinquished a title that was distasteful -to him, and a station that was distasteful to him, and had left -his country--he submitted before the word emigrant in the present -acceptation by the Tribunal was in use--to live by his own industry in -England, rather than on the industry of the overladen people of France. - -What proof had he of this? - -He handed in the names of two witnesses; Theophile Gabelle, and -Alexandre Manette. - -But he had married in England? the President reminded him. - -True, but not an English woman. - -A citizeness of France? - -Yes. By birth. - -Her name and family? - -"Lucie Manette, only daughter of Doctor Manette, the good physician who -sits there." - -This answer had a happy effect upon the audience. Cries in exaltation -of the well-known good physician rent the hall. So capriciously were -the people moved, that tears immediately rolled down several ferocious -countenances which had been glaring at the prisoner a moment before, as -if with impatience to pluck him out into the streets and kill him. - -On these few steps of his dangerous way, Charles Darnay had set his foot -according to Doctor Manette's reiterated instructions. The same cautious -counsel directed every step that lay before him, and had prepared every -inch of his road. - -The President asked, why had he returned to France when he did, and not -sooner? - -He had not returned sooner, he replied, simply because he had no means -of living in France, save those he had resigned; whereas, in England, -he lived by giving instruction in the French language and literature. -He had returned when he did, on the pressing and written entreaty of -a French citizen, who represented that his life was endangered by his -absence. He had come back, to save a citizen's life, and to bear his -testimony, at whatever personal hazard, to the truth. Was that criminal -in the eyes of the Republic? - -The populace cried enthusiastically, "No!" and the President rang his -bell to quiet them. Which it did not, for they continued to cry "No!" -until they left off, of their own will. - -The President required the name of that citizen. The accused explained -that the citizen was his first witness. He also referred with confidence -to the citizen's letter, which had been taken from him at the Barrier, -but which he did not doubt would be found among the papers then before -the President. - -The Doctor had taken care that it should be there--had assured him that -it would be there--and at this stage of the proceedings it was produced -and read. Citizen Gabelle was called to confirm it, and did so. Citizen -Gabelle hinted, with infinite delicacy and politeness, that in the -pressure of business imposed on the Tribunal by the multitude of -enemies of the Republic with which it had to deal, he had been slightly -overlooked in his prison of the Abbaye--in fact, had rather passed out -of the Tribunal's patriotic remembrance--until three days ago; when he -had been summoned before it, and had been set at liberty on the Jury's -declaring themselves satisfied that the accusation against him was -answered, as to himself, by the surrender of the citizen Evremonde, -called Darnay. - -Doctor Manette was next questioned. His high personal popularity, -and the clearness of his answers, made a great impression; but, as he -proceeded, as he showed that the Accused was his first friend on his -release from his long imprisonment; that, the accused had remained in -England, always faithful and devoted to his daughter and himself in -their exile; that, so far from being in favour with the Aristocrat -government there, he had actually been tried for his life by it, as -the foe of England and friend of the United States--as he brought these -circumstances into view, with the greatest discretion and with the -straightforward force of truth and earnestness, the Jury and the -populace became one. At last, when he appealed by name to Monsieur -Lorry, an English gentleman then and there present, who, like himself, -had been a witness on that English trial and could corroborate his -account of it, the Jury declared that they had heard enough, and that -they were ready with their votes if the President were content to -receive them. - -At every vote (the Jurymen voted aloud and individually), the populace -set up a shout of applause. All the voices were in the prisoner's -favour, and the President declared him free. - -Then, began one of those extraordinary scenes with which the populace -sometimes gratified their fickleness, or their better impulses towards -generosity and mercy, or which they regarded as some set-off against -their swollen account of cruel rage. No man can decide now to which of -these motives such extraordinary scenes were referable; it is probable, -to a blending of all the three, with the second predominating. No sooner -was the acquittal pronounced, than tears were shed as freely as blood -at another time, and such fraternal embraces were bestowed upon the -prisoner by as many of both sexes as could rush at him, that after -his long and unwholesome confinement he was in danger of fainting from -exhaustion; none the less because he knew very well, that the very same -people, carried by another current, would have rushed at him with -the very same intensity, to rend him to pieces and strew him over the -streets. - -His removal, to make way for other accused persons who were to be tried, -rescued him from these caresses for the moment. Five were to be tried -together, next, as enemies of the Republic, forasmuch as they had not -assisted it by word or deed. So quick was the Tribunal to compensate -itself and the nation for a chance lost, that these five came down to -him before he left the place, condemned to die within twenty-four -hours. The first of them told him so, with the customary prison sign -of Death--a raised finger--and they all added in words, "Long live the -Republic!" - -The five had had, it is true, no audience to lengthen their proceedings, -for when he and Doctor Manette emerged from the gate, there was a great -crowd about it, in which there seemed to be every face he had seen in -Court--except two, for which he looked in vain. On his coming out, the -concourse made at him anew, weeping, embracing, and shouting, all by -turns and all together, until the very tide of the river on the bank of -which the mad scene was acted, seemed to run mad, like the people on the -shore. - -They put him into a great chair they had among them, and which they had -taken either out of the Court itself, or one of its rooms or passages. -Over the chair they had thrown a red flag, and to the back of it they -had bound a pike with a red cap on its top. In this car of triumph, not -even the Doctor's entreaties could prevent his being carried to his home -on men's shoulders, with a confused sea of red caps heaving about him, -and casting up to sight from the stormy deep such wrecks of faces, that -he more than once misdoubted his mind being in confusion, and that he -was in the tumbril on his way to the Guillotine. - -In wild dreamlike procession, embracing whom they met and pointing -him out, they carried him on. Reddening the snowy streets with the -prevailing Republican colour, in winding and tramping through them, as -they had reddened them below the snow with a deeper dye, they carried -him thus into the courtyard of the building where he lived. Her father -had gone on before, to prepare her, and when her husband stood upon his -feet, she dropped insensible in his arms. - -As he held her to his heart and turned her beautiful head between his -face and the brawling crowd, so that his tears and her lips might come -together unseen, a few of the people fell to dancing. Instantly, all the -rest fell to dancing, and the courtyard overflowed with the Carmagnole. -Then, they elevated into the vacant chair a young woman from the -crowd to be carried as the Goddess of Liberty, and then swelling and -overflowing out into the adjacent streets, and along the river's bank, -and over the bridge, the Carmagnole absorbed them every one and whirled -them away. - -After grasping the Doctor's hand, as he stood victorious and proud -before him; after grasping the hand of Mr. Lorry, who came panting in -breathless from his struggle against the waterspout of the Carmagnole; -after kissing little Lucie, who was lifted up to clasp her arms round -his neck; and after embracing the ever zealous and faithful Pross who -lifted her; he took his wife in his arms, and carried her up to their -rooms. - -"Lucie! My own! I am safe." - -"O dearest Charles, let me thank God for this on my knees as I have -prayed to Him." - -They all reverently bowed their heads and hearts. When she was again in -his arms, he said to her: - -"And now speak to your father, dearest. No other man in all this France -could have done what he has done for me." - -She laid her head upon her father's breast, as she had laid his poor -head on her own breast, long, long ago. He was happy in the return he -had made her, he was recompensed for his suffering, he was proud of his -strength. "You must not be weak, my darling," he remonstrated; "don't -tremble so. I have saved him." - - - - -VII. A Knock at the Door - - -"I have saved him." It was not another of the dreams in which he had -often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a -vague but heavy fear was upon her. - -All the air round was so thick and dark, the people were so passionately -revengeful and fitful, the innocent were so constantly put to death on -vague suspicion and black malice, it was so impossible to forget that -many as blameless as her husband and as dear to others as he was to -her, every day shared the fate from which he had been clutched, that her -heart could not be as lightened of its load as she felt it ought to be. -The shadows of the wintry afternoon were beginning to fall, and even now -the dreadful carts were rolling through the streets. Her mind pursued -them, looking for him among the Condemned; and then she clung closer to -his real presence and trembled more. - -Her father, cheering her, showed a compassionate superiority to this -woman's weakness, which was wonderful to see. No garret, no shoemaking, -no One Hundred and Five, North Tower, now! He had accomplished the task -he had set himself, his promise was redeemed, he had saved Charles. Let -them all lean upon him. - -Their housekeeping was of a very frugal kind: not only because that was -the safest way of life, involving the least offence to the people, but -because they were not rich, and Charles, throughout his imprisonment, -had had to pay heavily for his bad food, and for his guard, and towards -the living of the poorer prisoners. Partly on this account, and -partly to avoid a domestic spy, they kept no servant; the citizen and -citizeness who acted as porters at the courtyard gate, rendered them -occasional service; and Jerry (almost wholly transferred to them by -Mr. Lorry) had become their daily retainer, and had his bed there every -night. - -It was an ordinance of the Republic One and Indivisible of Liberty, -Equality, Fraternity, or Death, that on the door or doorpost of every -house, the name of every inmate must be legibly inscribed in letters -of a certain size, at a certain convenient height from the ground. Mr. -Jerry Cruncher's name, therefore, duly embellished the doorpost down -below; and, as the afternoon shadows deepened, the owner of that name -himself appeared, from overlooking a painter whom Doctor Manette had -employed to add to the list the name of Charles Evremonde, called -Darnay. - -In the universal fear and distrust that darkened the time, all the usual -harmless ways of life were changed. In the Doctor's little household, as -in very many others, the articles of daily consumption that were wanted -were purchased every evening, in small quantities and at various small -shops. To avoid attracting notice, and to give as little occasion as -possible for talk and envy, was the general desire. - -For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher had discharged the -office of purveyors; the former carrying the money; the latter, the -basket. Every afternoon at about the time when the public lamps were -lighted, they fared forth on this duty, and made and brought home -such purchases as were needful. Although Miss Pross, through her long -association with a French family, might have known as much of their -language as of her own, if she had had a mind, she had no mind in that -direction; consequently she knew no more of that "nonsense" (as she was -pleased to call it) than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manner of marketing -was to plump a noun-substantive at the head of a shopkeeper without any -introduction in the nature of an article, and, if it happened not to be -the name of the thing she wanted, to look round for that thing, lay hold -of it, and hold on by it until the bargain was concluded. She always -made a bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement of its just price, -one finger less than the merchant held up, whatever his number might be. - -"Now, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, whose eyes were red with felicity; -"if you are ready, I am." - -Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss Pross's service. He had worn -all his rust off long ago, but nothing would file his spiky head down. - -"There's all manner of things wanted," said Miss Pross, "and we shall -have a precious time of it. We want wine, among the rest. Nice toasts -these Redheads will be drinking, wherever we buy it." - -"It will be much the same to your knowledge, miss, I should think," -retorted Jerry, "whether they drink your health or the Old Un's." - -"Who's he?" said Miss Pross. - -Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself as meaning "Old -Nick's." - -"Ha!" said Miss Pross, "it doesn't need an interpreter to explain the -meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it's Midnight Murder, -and Mischief." - -"Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!" cried Lucie. - -"Yes, yes, yes, I'll be cautious," said Miss Pross; "but I may say -among ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony and tobaccoey -smotherings in the form of embracings all round, going on in the -streets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till I come back! -Take care of the dear husband you have recovered, and don't move your -pretty head from his shoulder as you have it now, till you see me again! -May I ask a question, Doctor Manette, before I go?" - -"I think you may take that liberty," the Doctor answered, smiling. - -"For gracious sake, don't talk about Liberty; we have quite enough of -that," said Miss Pross. - -"Hush, dear! Again?" Lucie remonstrated. - -"Well, my sweet," said Miss Pross, nodding her head emphatically, "the -short and the long of it is, that I am a subject of His Most Gracious -Majesty King George the Third;" Miss Pross curtseyed at the name; "and -as such, my maxim is, Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish -tricks, On him our hopes we fix, God save the King!" - -Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated the words -after Miss Pross, like somebody at church. - -"I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, though I wish you -had never taken that cold in your voice," said Miss Pross, approvingly. -"But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there"--it was the good creature's -way to affect to make light of anything that was a great anxiety -with them all, and to come at it in this chance manner--"is there any -prospect yet, of our getting out of this place?" - -"I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet." - -"Heigh-ho-hum!" said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sigh as she -glanced at her darling's golden hair in the light of the fire, "then we -must have patience and wait: that's all. We must hold up our heads and -fight low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now, Mr. Cruncher!--Don't -you move, Ladybird!" - -They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father, and the -child, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presently from the -Banking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but had put it aside in -a corner, that they might enjoy the fire-light undisturbed. Little Lucie -sat by her grandfather with her hands clasped through his arm: and he, -in a tone not rising much above a whisper, began to tell her a story of -a great and powerful Fairy who had opened a prison-wall and let out -a captive who had once done the Fairy a service. All was subdued and -quiet, and Lucie was more at ease than she had been. - -"What is that?" she cried, all at once. - -"My dear!" said her father, stopping in his story, and laying his hand -on hers, "command yourself. What a disordered state you are in! The -least thing--nothing--startles you! _You_, your father's daughter!" - -"I thought, my father," said Lucie, excusing herself, with a pale face -and in a faltering voice, "that I heard strange feet upon the stairs." - -"My love, the staircase is as still as Death." - -As he said the word, a blow was struck upon the door. - -"Oh father, father. What can this be! Hide Charles. Save him!" - -"My child," said the Doctor, rising, and laying his hand upon her -shoulder, "I _have_ saved him. What weakness is this, my dear! Let me go -to the door." - -He took the lamp in his hand, crossed the two intervening outer rooms, -and opened it. A rude clattering of feet over the floor, and four rough -men in red caps, armed with sabres and pistols, entered the room. - -"The Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay," said the first. - -"Who seeks him?" answered Darnay. - -"I seek him. We seek him. I know you, Evremonde; I saw you before the -Tribunal to-day. You are again the prisoner of the Republic." - -The four surrounded him, where he stood with his wife and child clinging -to him. - -"Tell me how and why am I again a prisoner?" - -"It is enough that you return straight to the Conciergerie, and will -know to-morrow. You are summoned for to-morrow." - -Doctor Manette, whom this visitation had so turned into stone, that he -stood with the lamp in his hand, as if he were a statue made to hold it, -moved after these words were spoken, put the lamp down, and confronting -the speaker, and taking him, not ungently, by the loose front of his red -woollen shirt, said: - -"You know him, you have said. Do you know me?" - -"Yes, I know you, Citizen Doctor." - -"We all know you, Citizen Doctor," said the other three. - -He looked abstractedly from one to another, and said, in a lower voice, -after a pause: - -"Will you answer his question to me then? How does this happen?" - -"Citizen Doctor," said the first, reluctantly, "he has been denounced to -the Section of Saint Antoine. This citizen," pointing out the second who -had entered, "is from Saint Antoine." - -The citizen here indicated nodded his head, and added: - -"He is accused by Saint Antoine." - -"Of what?" asked the Doctor. - -"Citizen Doctor," said the first, with his former reluctance, "ask no -more. If the Republic demands sacrifices from you, without doubt you as -a good patriot will be happy to make them. The Republic goes before all. -The People is supreme. Evremonde, we are pressed." - -"One word," the Doctor entreated. "Will you tell me who denounced him?" - -"It is against rule," answered the first; "but you can ask Him of Saint -Antoine here." - -The Doctor turned his eyes upon that man. Who moved uneasily on his -feet, rubbed his beard a little, and at length said: - -"Well! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced--and gravely--by -the Citizen and Citizeness Defarge. And by one other." - -"What other?" - -"Do _you_ ask, Citizen Doctor?" - -"Yes." - -"Then," said he of Saint Antoine, with a strange look, "you will be -answered to-morrow. Now, I am dumb!" - - - - -VIII. A Hand at Cards - - -Happily unconscious of the new calamity at home, Miss Pross threaded her -way along the narrow streets and crossed the river by the bridge of the -Pont-Neuf, reckoning in her mind the number of indispensable purchases -she had to make. Mr. Cruncher, with the basket, walked at her side. They -both looked to the right and to the left into most of the shops they -passed, had a wary eye for all gregarious assemblages of people, and -turned out of their road to avoid any very excited group of talkers. It -was a raw evening, and the misty river, blurred to the eye with blazing -lights and to the ear with harsh noises, showed where the barges were -stationed in which the smiths worked, making guns for the Army of the -Republic. Woe to the man who played tricks with _that_ Army, or got -undeserved promotion in it! Better for him that his beard had never -grown, for the National Razor shaved him close. - -Having purchased a few small articles of grocery, and a measure of oil -for the lamp, Miss Pross bethought herself of the wine they wanted. -After peeping into several wine-shops, she stopped at the sign of the -Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, not far from the National Palace, -once (and twice) the Tuileries, where the aspect of things rather -took her fancy. It had a quieter look than any other place of the same -description they had passed, and, though red with patriotic caps, was -not so red as the rest. Sounding Mr. Cruncher, and finding him of her -opinion, Miss Pross resorted to the Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, -attended by her cavalier. - -Slightly observant of the smoky lights; of the people, pipe in mouth, -playing with limp cards and yellow dominoes; of the one bare-breasted, -bare-armed, soot-begrimed workman reading a journal aloud, and of -the others listening to him; of the weapons worn, or laid aside to be -resumed; of the two or three customers fallen forward asleep, who in the -popular high-shouldered shaggy black spencer looked, in that attitude, -like slumbering bears or dogs; the two outlandish customers approached -the counter, and showed what they wanted. - -As their wine was measuring out, a man parted from another man in a -corner, and rose to depart. In going, he had to face Miss Pross. No -sooner did he face her, than Miss Pross uttered a scream, and clapped -her hands. - -In a moment, the whole company were on their feet. That somebody was -assassinated by somebody vindicating a difference of opinion was the -likeliest occurrence. Everybody looked to see somebody fall, but only -saw a man and a woman standing staring at each other; the man with all -the outward aspect of a Frenchman and a thorough Republican; the woman, -evidently English. - -What was said in this disappointing anti-climax, by the disciples of the -Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, except that it was something very -voluble and loud, would have been as so much Hebrew or Chaldean to Miss -Pross and her protector, though they had been all ears. But, they had no -ears for anything in their surprise. For, it must be recorded, that -not only was Miss Pross lost in amazement and agitation, but, -Mr. Cruncher--though it seemed on his own separate and individual -account--was in a state of the greatest wonder. - -"What is the matter?" said the man who had caused Miss Pross to scream; -speaking in a vexed, abrupt voice (though in a low tone), and in -English. - -"Oh, Solomon, dear Solomon!" cried Miss Pross, clapping her hands again. -"After not setting eyes upon you or hearing of you for so long a time, -do I find you here!" - -"Don't call me Solomon. Do you want to be the death of me?" asked the -man, in a furtive, frightened way. - -"Brother, brother!" cried Miss Pross, bursting into tears. "Have I ever -been so hard with you that you ask me such a cruel question?" - -"Then hold your meddlesome tongue," said Solomon, "and come out, if you -want to speak to me. Pay for your wine, and come out. Who's this man?" - -Miss Pross, shaking her loving and dejected head at her by no means -affectionate brother, said through her tears, "Mr. Cruncher." - -"Let him come out too," said Solomon. "Does he think me a ghost?" - -Apparently, Mr. Cruncher did, to judge from his looks. He said not a -word, however, and Miss Pross, exploring the depths of her reticule -through her tears with great difficulty paid for her wine. As she did -so, Solomon turned to the followers of the Good Republican Brutus -of Antiquity, and offered a few words of explanation in the French -language, which caused them all to relapse into their former places and -pursuits. - -"Now," said Solomon, stopping at the dark street corner, "what do you -want?" - -"How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever turned my love away -from!" cried Miss Pross, "to give me such a greeting, and show me no -affection." - -"There. Confound it! There," said Solomon, making a dab at Miss Pross's -lips with his own. "Now are you content?" - -Miss Pross only shook her head and wept in silence. - -"If you expect me to be surprised," said her brother Solomon, "I am not -surprised; I knew you were here; I know of most people who are here. If -you really don't want to endanger my existence--which I half believe you -do--go your ways as soon as possible, and let me go mine. I am busy. I -am an official." - -"My English brother Solomon," mourned Miss Pross, casting up her -tear-fraught eyes, "that had the makings in him of one of the best and -greatest of men in his native country, an official among foreigners, and -such foreigners! I would almost sooner have seen the dear boy lying in -his--" - -"I said so!" cried her brother, interrupting. "I knew it. You want to be -the death of me. I shall be rendered Suspected, by my own sister. Just -as I am getting on!" - -"The gracious and merciful Heavens forbid!" cried Miss Pross. "Far -rather would I never see you again, dear Solomon, though I have ever -loved you truly, and ever shall. Say but one affectionate word to me, -and tell me there is nothing angry or estranged between us, and I will -detain you no longer." - -Good Miss Pross! As if the estrangement between them had come of any -culpability of hers. As if Mr. Lorry had not known it for a fact, years -ago, in the quiet corner in Soho, that this precious brother had spent -her money and left her! - -He was saying the affectionate word, however, with a far more grudging -condescension and patronage than he could have shown if their relative -merits and positions had been reversed (which is invariably the case, -all the world over), when Mr. Cruncher, touching him on the shoulder, -hoarsely and unexpectedly interposed with the following singular -question: - -"I say! Might I ask the favour? As to whether your name is John Solomon, -or Solomon John?" - -The official turned towards him with sudden distrust. He had not -previously uttered a word. - -"Come!" said Mr. Cruncher. "Speak out, you know." (Which, by the way, -was more than he could do himself.) "John Solomon, or Solomon John? She -calls you Solomon, and she must know, being your sister. And _I_ know -you're John, you know. Which of the two goes first? And regarding that -name of Pross, likewise. That warn't your name over the water." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Well, I don't know all I mean, for I can't call to mind what your name -was, over the water." - -"No?" - -"No. But I'll swear it was a name of two syllables." - -"Indeed?" - -"Yes. T'other one's was one syllable. I know you. You was a spy--witness -at the Bailey. What, in the name of the Father of Lies, own father to -yourself, was you called at that time?" - -"Barsad," said another voice, striking in. - -"That's the name for a thousand pound!" cried Jerry. - -The speaker who struck in, was Sydney Carton. He had his hands behind -him under the skirts of his riding-coat, and he stood at Mr. Cruncher's -elbow as negligently as he might have stood at the Old Bailey itself. - -"Don't be alarmed, my dear Miss Pross. I arrived at Mr. Lorry's, to his -surprise, yesterday evening; we agreed that I would not present myself -elsewhere until all was well, or unless I could be useful; I present -myself here, to beg a little talk with your brother. I wish you had a -better employed brother than Mr. Barsad. I wish for your sake Mr. Barsad -was not a Sheep of the Prisons." - -Sheep was a cant word of the time for a spy, under the gaolers. The spy, -who was pale, turned paler, and asked him how he dared-- - -"I'll tell you," said Sydney. "I lighted on you, Mr. Barsad, coming out -of the prison of the Conciergerie while I was contemplating the walls, -an hour or more ago. You have a face to be remembered, and I remember -faces well. Made curious by seeing you in that connection, and having -a reason, to which you are no stranger, for associating you with -the misfortunes of a friend now very unfortunate, I walked in your -direction. I walked into the wine-shop here, close after you, and -sat near you. I had no difficulty in deducing from your unreserved -conversation, and the rumour openly going about among your admirers, the -nature of your calling. And gradually, what I had done at random, seemed -to shape itself into a purpose, Mr. Barsad." - -"What purpose?" the spy asked. - -"It would be troublesome, and might be dangerous, to explain in the -street. Could you favour me, in confidence, with some minutes of your -company--at the office of Tellson's Bank, for instance?" - -"Under a threat?" - -"Oh! Did I say that?" - -"Then, why should I go there?" - -"Really, Mr. Barsad, I can't say, if you can't." - -"Do you mean that you won't say, sir?" the spy irresolutely asked. - -"You apprehend me very clearly, Mr. Barsad. I won't." - -Carton's negligent recklessness of manner came powerfully in aid of his -quickness and skill, in such a business as he had in his secret mind, -and with such a man as he had to do with. His practised eye saw it, and -made the most of it. - -"Now, I told you so," said the spy, casting a reproachful look at his -sister; "if any trouble comes of this, it's your doing." - -"Come, come, Mr. Barsad!" exclaimed Sydney. "Don't be ungrateful. -But for my great respect for your sister, I might not have led up so -pleasantly to a little proposal that I wish to make for our mutual -satisfaction. Do you go with me to the Bank?" - -"I'll hear what you have got to say. Yes, I'll go with you." - -"I propose that we first conduct your sister safely to the corner of her -own street. Let me take your arm, Miss Pross. This is not a good city, -at this time, for you to be out in, unprotected; and as your escort -knows Mr. Barsad, I will invite him to Mr. Lorry's with us. Are we -ready? Come then!" - -Miss Pross recalled soon afterwards, and to the end of her life -remembered, that as she pressed her hands on Sydney's arm and looked up -in his face, imploring him to do no hurt to Solomon, there was a braced -purpose in the arm and a kind of inspiration in the eyes, which not only -contradicted his light manner, but changed and raised the man. She was -too much occupied then with fears for the brother who so little deserved -her affection, and with Sydney's friendly reassurances, adequately to -heed what she observed. - -They left her at the corner of the street, and Carton led the way to Mr. -Lorry's, which was within a few minutes' walk. John Barsad, or Solomon -Pross, walked at his side. - -Mr. Lorry had just finished his dinner, and was sitting before a cheery -little log or two of fire--perhaps looking into their blaze for the -picture of that younger elderly gentleman from Tellson's, who had looked -into the red coals at the Royal George at Dover, now a good many years -ago. He turned his head as they entered, and showed the surprise with -which he saw a stranger. - -"Miss Pross's brother, sir," said Sydney. "Mr. Barsad." - -"Barsad?" repeated the old gentleman, "Barsad? I have an association -with the name--and with the face." - -"I told you you had a remarkable face, Mr. Barsad," observed Carton, -coolly. "Pray sit down." - -As he took a chair himself, he supplied the link that Mr. Lorry wanted, -by saying to him with a frown, "Witness at that trial." Mr. Lorry -immediately remembered, and regarded his new visitor with an undisguised -look of abhorrence. - -"Mr. Barsad has been recognised by Miss Pross as the affectionate -brother you have heard of," said Sydney, "and has acknowledged the -relationship. I pass to worse news. Darnay has been arrested again." - -Struck with consternation, the old gentleman exclaimed, "What do you -tell me! I left him safe and free within these two hours, and am about -to return to him!" - -"Arrested for all that. When was it done, Mr. Barsad?" - -"Just now, if at all." - -"Mr. Barsad is the best authority possible, sir," said Sydney, "and I -have it from Mr. Barsad's communication to a friend and brother Sheep -over a bottle of wine, that the arrest has taken place. He left the -messengers at the gate, and saw them admitted by the porter. There is no -earthly doubt that he is retaken." - -Mr. Lorry's business eye read in the speaker's face that it was loss -of time to dwell upon the point. Confused, but sensible that something -might depend on his presence of mind, he commanded himself, and was -silently attentive. - -"Now, I trust," said Sydney to him, "that the name and influence of -Doctor Manette may stand him in as good stead to-morrow--you said he -would be before the Tribunal again to-morrow, Mr. Barsad?--" - -"Yes; I believe so." - -"--In as good stead to-morrow as to-day. But it may not be so. I own -to you, I am shaken, Mr. Lorry, by Doctor Manette's not having had the -power to prevent this arrest." - -"He may not have known of it beforehand," said Mr. Lorry. - -"But that very circumstance would be alarming, when we remember how -identified he is with his son-in-law." - -"That's true," Mr. Lorry acknowledged, with his troubled hand at his -chin, and his troubled eyes on Carton. - -"In short," said Sydney, "this is a desperate time, when desperate games -are played for desperate stakes. Let the Doctor play the winning game; I -will play the losing one. No man's life here is worth purchase. Any one -carried home by the people to-day, may be condemned tomorrow. Now, the -stake I have resolved to play for, in case of the worst, is a friend -in the Conciergerie. And the friend I purpose to myself to win, is Mr. -Barsad." - -"You need have good cards, sir," said the spy. - -"I'll run them over. I'll see what I hold,--Mr. Lorry, you know what a -brute I am; I wish you'd give me a little brandy." - -It was put before him, and he drank off a glassful--drank off another -glassful--pushed the bottle thoughtfully away. - -"Mr. Barsad," he went on, in the tone of one who really was looking -over a hand at cards: "Sheep of the prisons, emissary of Republican -committees, now turnkey, now prisoner, always spy and secret informer, -so much the more valuable here for being English that an Englishman -is less open to suspicion of subornation in those characters than a -Frenchman, represents himself to his employers under a false name. -That's a very good card. Mr. Barsad, now in the employ of the republican -French government, was formerly in the employ of the aristocratic -English government, the enemy of France and freedom. That's an excellent -card. Inference clear as day in this region of suspicion, that Mr. -Barsad, still in the pay of the aristocratic English government, is the -spy of Pitt, the treacherous foe of the Republic crouching in its bosom, -the English traitor and agent of all mischief so much spoken of and so -difficult to find. That's a card not to be beaten. Have you followed my -hand, Mr. Barsad?" - -"Not to understand your play," returned the spy, somewhat uneasily. - -"I play my Ace, Denunciation of Mr. Barsad to the nearest Section -Committee. Look over your hand, Mr. Barsad, and see what you have. Don't -hurry." - -He drew the bottle near, poured out another glassful of brandy, and -drank it off. He saw that the spy was fearful of his drinking himself -into a fit state for the immediate denunciation of him. Seeing it, he -poured out and drank another glassful. - -"Look over your hand carefully, Mr. Barsad. Take time." - -It was a poorer hand than he suspected. Mr. Barsad saw losing cards -in it that Sydney Carton knew nothing of. Thrown out of his honourable -employment in England, through too much unsuccessful hard swearing -there--not because he was not wanted there; our English reasons for -vaunting our superiority to secrecy and spies are of very modern -date--he knew that he had crossed the Channel, and accepted service in -France: first, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among his own countrymen -there: gradually, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among the natives. He -knew that under the overthrown government he had been a spy upon Saint -Antoine and Defarge's wine-shop; had received from the watchful police -such heads of information concerning Doctor Manette's imprisonment, -release, and history, as should serve him for an introduction to -familiar conversation with the Defarges; and tried them on Madame -Defarge, and had broken down with them signally. He always remembered -with fear and trembling, that that terrible woman had knitted when he -talked with her, and had looked ominously at him as her fingers moved. -He had since seen her, in the Section of Saint Antoine, over and over -again produce her knitted registers, and denounce people whose lives the -guillotine then surely swallowed up. He knew, as every one employed as -he was did, that he was never safe; that flight was impossible; that -he was tied fast under the shadow of the axe; and that in spite of -his utmost tergiversation and treachery in furtherance of the reigning -terror, a word might bring it down upon him. Once denounced, and on such -grave grounds as had just now been suggested to his mind, he foresaw -that the dreadful woman of whose unrelenting character he had seen many -proofs, would produce against him that fatal register, and would quash -his last chance of life. Besides that all secret men are men soon -terrified, here were surely cards enough of one black suit, to justify -the holder in growing rather livid as he turned them over. - -"You scarcely seem to like your hand," said Sydney, with the greatest -composure. "Do you play?" - -"I think, sir," said the spy, in the meanest manner, as he turned to Mr. -Lorry, "I may appeal to a gentleman of your years and benevolence, to -put it to this other gentleman, so much your junior, whether he can -under any circumstances reconcile it to his station to play that Ace -of which he has spoken. I admit that _I_ am a spy, and that it is -considered a discreditable station--though it must be filled by -somebody; but this gentleman is no spy, and why should he so demean -himself as to make himself one?" - -"I play my Ace, Mr. Barsad," said Carton, taking the answer on himself, -and looking at his watch, "without any scruple, in a very few minutes." - -"I should have hoped, gentlemen both," said the spy, always striving to -hook Mr. Lorry into the discussion, "that your respect for my sister--" - -"I could not better testify my respect for your sister than by finally -relieving her of her brother," said Sydney Carton. - -"You think not, sir?" - -"I have thoroughly made up my mind about it." - -The smooth manner of the spy, curiously in dissonance with his -ostentatiously rough dress, and probably with his usual demeanour, -received such a check from the inscrutability of Carton,--who was a -mystery to wiser and honester men than he,--that it faltered here and -failed him. While he was at a loss, Carton said, resuming his former air -of contemplating cards: - -"And indeed, now I think again, I have a strong impression that I -have another good card here, not yet enumerated. That friend and -fellow-Sheep, who spoke of himself as pasturing in the country prisons; -who was he?" - -"French. You don't know him," said the spy, quickly. - -"French, eh?" repeated Carton, musing, and not appearing to notice him -at all, though he echoed his word. "Well; he may be." - -"Is, I assure you," said the spy; "though it's not important." - -"Though it's not important," repeated Carton, in the same mechanical -way--"though it's not important--No, it's not important. No. Yet I know -the face." - -"I think not. I am sure not. It can't be," said the spy. - -"It-can't-be," muttered Sydney Carton, retrospectively, and idling his -glass (which fortunately was a small one) again. "Can't-be. Spoke good -French. Yet like a foreigner, I thought?" - -"Provincial," said the spy. - -"No. Foreign!" cried Carton, striking his open hand on the table, as a -light broke clearly on his mind. "Cly! Disguised, but the same man. We -had that man before us at the Old Bailey." - -"Now, there you are hasty, sir," said Barsad, with a smile that gave his -aquiline nose an extra inclination to one side; "there you really give -me an advantage over you. Cly (who I will unreservedly admit, at this -distance of time, was a partner of mine) has been dead several years. I -attended him in his last illness. He was buried in London, at the church -of Saint Pancras-in-the-Fields. His unpopularity with the blackguard -multitude at the moment prevented my following his remains, but I helped -to lay him in his coffin." - -Here, Mr. Lorry became aware, from where he sat, of a most remarkable -goblin shadow on the wall. Tracing it to its source, he discovered it -to be caused by a sudden extraordinary rising and stiffening of all the -risen and stiff hair on Mr. Cruncher's head. - -"Let us be reasonable," said the spy, "and let us be fair. To show you -how mistaken you are, and what an unfounded assumption yours is, I will -lay before you a certificate of Cly's burial, which I happened to have -carried in my pocket-book," with a hurried hand he produced and opened -it, "ever since. There it is. Oh, look at it, look at it! You may take -it in your hand; it's no forgery." - -Here, Mr. Lorry perceived the reflection on the wall to elongate, and -Mr. Cruncher rose and stepped forward. His hair could not have been more -violently on end, if it had been that moment dressed by the Cow with the -crumpled horn in the house that Jack built. - -Unseen by the spy, Mr. Cruncher stood at his side, and touched him on -the shoulder like a ghostly bailiff. - -"That there Roger Cly, master," said Mr. Cruncher, with a taciturn and -iron-bound visage. "So _you_ put him in his coffin?" - -"I did." - -"Who took him out of it?" - -Barsad leaned back in his chair, and stammered, "What do you mean?" - -"I mean," said Mr. Cruncher, "that he warn't never in it. No! Not he! -I'll have my head took off, if he was ever in it." - -The spy looked round at the two gentlemen; they both looked in -unspeakable astonishment at Jerry. - -"I tell you," said Jerry, "that you buried paving-stones and earth in -that there coffin. Don't go and tell me that you buried Cly. It was a -take in. Me and two more knows it." - -"How do you know it?" - -"What's that to you? Ecod!" growled Mr. Cruncher, "it's you I have got a -old grudge again, is it, with your shameful impositions upon tradesmen! -I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a guinea." - -Sydney Carton, who, with Mr. Lorry, had been lost in amazement at -this turn of the business, here requested Mr. Cruncher to moderate and -explain himself. - -"At another time, sir," he returned, evasively, "the present time is -ill-conwenient for explainin'. What I stand to, is, that he knows well -wot that there Cly was never in that there coffin. Let him say he was, -in so much as a word of one syllable, and I'll either catch hold of his -throat and choke him for half a guinea;" Mr. Cruncher dwelt upon this as -quite a liberal offer; "or I'll out and announce him." - -"Humph! I see one thing," said Carton. "I hold another card, Mr. Barsad. -Impossible, here in raging Paris, with Suspicion filling the air, for -you to outlive denunciation, when you are in communication with another -aristocratic spy of the same antecedents as yourself, who, moreover, has -the mystery about him of having feigned death and come to life again! -A plot in the prisons, of the foreigner against the Republic. A strong -card--a certain Guillotine card! Do you play?" - -"No!" returned the spy. "I throw up. I confess that we were so unpopular -with the outrageous mob, that I only got away from England at the risk -of being ducked to death, and that Cly was so ferreted up and down, that -he never would have got away at all but for that sham. Though how this -man knows it was a sham, is a wonder of wonders to me." - -"Never you trouble your head about this man," retorted the contentious -Mr. Cruncher; "you'll have trouble enough with giving your attention to -that gentleman. And look here! Once more!"--Mr. Cruncher could not -be restrained from making rather an ostentatious parade of his -liberality--"I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a -guinea." - -The Sheep of the prisons turned from him to Sydney Carton, and said, -with more decision, "It has come to a point. I go on duty soon, and -can't overstay my time. You told me you had a proposal; what is it? -Now, it is of no use asking too much of me. Ask me to do anything in my -office, putting my head in great extra danger, and I had better trust my -life to the chances of a refusal than the chances of consent. In short, -I should make that choice. You talk of desperation. We are all desperate -here. Remember! I may denounce you if I think proper, and I can swear my -way through stone walls, and so can others. Now, what do you want with -me?" - -"Not very much. You are a turnkey at the Conciergerie?" - -"I tell you once for all, there is no such thing as an escape possible," -said the spy, firmly. - -"Why need you tell me what I have not asked? You are a turnkey at the -Conciergerie?" - -"I am sometimes." - -"You can be when you choose?" - -"I can pass in and out when I choose." - -Sydney Carton filled another glass with brandy, poured it slowly out -upon the hearth, and watched it as it dropped. It being all spent, he -said, rising: - -"So far, we have spoken before these two, because it was as well that -the merits of the cards should not rest solely between you and me. Come -into the dark room here, and let us have one final word alone." - - - - -IX. The Game Made - - -While Sydney Carton and the Sheep of the prisons were in the adjoining -dark room, speaking so low that not a sound was heard, Mr. Lorry looked -at Jerry in considerable doubt and mistrust. That honest tradesman's -manner of receiving the look, did not inspire confidence; he changed the -leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of those limbs, -and were trying them all; he examined his finger-nails with a very -questionable closeness of attention; and whenever Mr. Lorry's eye caught -his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the -hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an -infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character. - -"Jerry," said Mr. Lorry. "Come here." - -Mr. Cruncher came forward sideways, with one of his shoulders in advance -of him. - -"What have you been, besides a messenger?" - -After some cogitation, accompanied with an intent look at his patron, -Mr. Cruncher conceived the luminous idea of replying, "Agicultooral -character." - -"My mind misgives me much," said Mr. Lorry, angrily shaking a forefinger -at him, "that you have used the respectable and great house of Tellson's -as a blind, and that you have had an unlawful occupation of an infamous -description. If you have, don't expect me to befriend you when you -get back to England. If you have, don't expect me to keep your secret. -Tellson's shall not be imposed upon." - -"I hope, sir," pleaded the abashed Mr. Cruncher, "that a gentleman like -yourself wot I've had the honour of odd jobbing till I'm grey at it, -would think twice about harming of me, even if it wos so--I don't say it -is, but even if it wos. And which it is to be took into account that if -it wos, it wouldn't, even then, be all o' one side. There'd be two sides -to it. There might be medical doctors at the present hour, a picking -up their guineas where a honest tradesman don't pick up his -fardens--fardens! no, nor yet his half fardens--half fardens! no, nor -yet his quarter--a banking away like smoke at Tellson's, and a cocking -their medical eyes at that tradesman on the sly, a going in and going -out to their own carriages--ah! equally like smoke, if not more so. -Well, that 'ud be imposing, too, on Tellson's. For you cannot sarse the -goose and not the gander. And here's Mrs. Cruncher, or leastways wos -in the Old England times, and would be to-morrow, if cause given, -a floppin' again the business to that degree as is ruinating--stark -ruinating! Whereas them medical doctors' wives don't flop--catch 'em at -it! Or, if they flop, their floppings goes in favour of more patients, -and how can you rightly have one without t'other? Then, wot with -undertakers, and wot with parish clerks, and wot with sextons, and wot -with private watchmen (all awaricious and all in it), a man wouldn't get -much by it, even if it wos so. And wot little a man did get, would never -prosper with him, Mr. Lorry. He'd never have no good of it; he'd want -all along to be out of the line, if he, could see his way out, being -once in--even if it wos so." - -"Ugh!" cried Mr. Lorry, rather relenting, nevertheless, "I am shocked at -the sight of you." - -"Now, what I would humbly offer to you, sir," pursued Mr. Cruncher, -"even if it wos so, which I don't say it is--" - -"Don't prevaricate," said Mr. Lorry. - -"No, I will _not_, sir," returned Mr. Crunches as if nothing were -further from his thoughts or practice--"which I don't say it is--wot I -would humbly offer to you, sir, would be this. Upon that there stool, at -that there Bar, sets that there boy of mine, brought up and growed up to -be a man, wot will errand you, message you, general-light-job you, till -your heels is where your head is, if such should be your wishes. If it -wos so, which I still don't say it is (for I will not prewaricate to -you, sir), let that there boy keep his father's place, and take care of -his mother; don't blow upon that boy's father--do not do it, sir--and -let that father go into the line of the reg'lar diggin', and make amends -for what he would have undug--if it wos so--by diggin' of 'em in with -a will, and with conwictions respectin' the futur' keepin' of 'em safe. -That, Mr. Lorry," said Mr. Cruncher, wiping his forehead with his -arm, as an announcement that he had arrived at the peroration of his -discourse, "is wot I would respectfully offer to you, sir. A man don't -see all this here a goin' on dreadful round him, in the way of Subjects -without heads, dear me, plentiful enough fur to bring the price down -to porterage and hardly that, without havin' his serious thoughts of -things. And these here would be mine, if it wos so, entreatin' of you -fur to bear in mind that wot I said just now, I up and said in the good -cause when I might have kep' it back." - -"That at least is true," said Mr. Lorry. "Say no more now. It may be -that I shall yet stand your friend, if you deserve it, and repent in -action--not in words. I want no more words." - -Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forehead, as Sydney Carton and the spy -returned from the dark room. "Adieu, Mr. Barsad," said the former; "our -arrangement thus made, you have nothing to fear from me." - -He sat down in a chair on the hearth, over against Mr. Lorry. When they -were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done? - -"Not much. If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured access -to him, once." - -Mr. Lorry's countenance fell. - -"It is all I could do," said Carton. "To propose too much, would be -to put this man's head under the axe, and, as he himself said, nothing -worse could happen to him if he were denounced. It was obviously the -weakness of the position. There is no help for it." - -"But access to him," said Mr. Lorry, "if it should go ill before the -Tribunal, will not save him." - -"I never said it would." - -Mr. Lorry's eyes gradually sought the fire; his sympathy with his -darling, and the heavy disappointment of his second arrest, gradually -weakened them; he was an old man now, overborne with anxiety of late, -and his tears fell. - -"You are a good man and a true friend," said Carton, in an altered -voice. "Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could not see my -father weep, and sit by, careless. And I could not respect your -sorrow more, if you were my father. You are free from that misfortune, -however." - -Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual manner, there -was a true feeling and respect both in his tone and in his touch, -that Mr. Lorry, who had never seen the better side of him, was wholly -unprepared for. He gave him his hand, and Carton gently pressed it. - -"To return to poor Darnay," said Carton. "Don't tell Her of this -interview, or this arrangement. It would not enable Her to go to see -him. She might think it was contrived, in case of the worse, to convey -to him the means of anticipating the sentence." - -Mr. Lorry had not thought of that, and he looked quickly at Carton to -see if it were in his mind. It seemed to be; he returned the look, and -evidently understood it. - -"She might think a thousand things," Carton said, "and any of them would -only add to her trouble. Don't speak of me to her. As I said to you when -I first came, I had better not see her. I can put my hand out, to do any -little helpful work for her that my hand can find to do, without that. -You are going to her, I hope? She must be very desolate to-night." - -"I am going now, directly." - -"I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and reliance -on you. How does she look?" - -"Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful." - -"Ah!" - -It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh--almost like a sob. It -attracted Mr. Lorry's eyes to Carton's face, which was turned to the -fire. A light, or a shade (the old gentleman could not have said which), -passed from it as swiftly as a change will sweep over a hill-side on a -wild bright day, and he lifted his foot to put back one of the little -flaming logs, which was tumbling forward. He wore the white riding-coat -and top-boots, then in vogue, and the light of the fire touching their -light surfaces made him look very pale, with his long brown hair, -all untrimmed, hanging loose about him. His indifference to fire was -sufficiently remarkable to elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; -his boot was still upon the hot embers of the flaming log, when it had -broken under the weight of his foot. - -"I forgot it," he said. - -Mr. Lorry's eyes were again attracted to his face. Taking note of the -wasted air which clouded the naturally handsome features, and having -the expression of prisoners' faces fresh in his mind, he was strongly -reminded of that expression. - -"And your duties here have drawn to an end, sir?" said Carton, turning -to him. - -"Yes. As I was telling you last night when Lucie came in so -unexpectedly, I have at length done all that I can do here. I hoped to -have left them in perfect safety, and then to have quitted Paris. I have -my Leave to Pass. I was ready to go." - -They were both silent. - -"Yours is a long life to look back upon, sir?" said Carton, wistfully. - -"I am in my seventy-eighth year." - -"You have been useful all your life; steadily and constantly occupied; -trusted, respected, and looked up to?" - -"I have been a man of business, ever since I have been a man. Indeed, I -may say that I was a man of business when a boy." - -"See what a place you fill at seventy-eight. How many people will miss -you when you leave it empty!" - -"A solitary old bachelor," answered Mr. Lorry, shaking his head. "There -is nobody to weep for me." - -"How can you say that? Wouldn't She weep for you? Wouldn't her child?" - -"Yes, yes, thank God. I didn't quite mean what I said." - -"It _is_ a thing to thank God for; is it not?" - -"Surely, surely." - -"If you could say, with truth, to your own solitary heart, to-night, -'I have secured to myself the love and attachment, the gratitude or -respect, of no human creature; I have won myself a tender place in no -regard; I have done nothing good or serviceable to be remembered by!' -your seventy-eight years would be seventy-eight heavy curses; would they -not?" - -"You say truly, Mr. Carton; I think they would be." - -Sydney turned his eyes again upon the fire, and, after a silence of a -few moments, said: - -"I should like to ask you:--Does your childhood seem far off? Do the -days when you sat at your mother's knee, seem days of very long ago?" - -Responding to his softened manner, Mr. Lorry answered: - -"Twenty years back, yes; at this time of my life, no. For, as I draw -closer and closer to the end, I travel in the circle, nearer and -nearer to the beginning. It seems to be one of the kind smoothings and -preparings of the way. My heart is touched now, by many remembrances -that had long fallen asleep, of my pretty young mother (and I so old!), -and by many associations of the days when what we call the World was not -so real with me, and my faults were not confirmed in me." - -"I understand the feeling!" exclaimed Carton, with a bright flush. "And -you are the better for it?" - -"I hope so." - -Carton terminated the conversation here, by rising to help him on with -his outer coat; "But you," said Mr. Lorry, reverting to the theme, "you -are young." - -"Yes," said Carton. "I am not old, but my young way was never the way to -age. Enough of me." - -"And of me, I am sure," said Mr. Lorry. "Are you going out?" - -"I'll walk with you to her gate. You know my vagabond and restless -habits. If I should prowl about the streets a long time, don't be -uneasy; I shall reappear in the morning. You go to the Court to-morrow?" - -"Yes, unhappily." - -"I shall be there, but only as one of the crowd. My Spy will find a -place for me. Take my arm, sir." - -Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in the streets. A -few minutes brought them to Mr. Lorry's destination. Carton left him -there; but lingered at a little distance, and turned back to the gate -again when it was shut, and touched it. He had heard of her going to -the prison every day. "She came out here," he said, looking about him, -"turned this way, must have trod on these stones often. Let me follow in -her steps." - -It was ten o'clock at night when he stood before the prison of La Force, -where she had stood hundreds of times. A little wood-sawyer, having -closed his shop, was smoking his pipe at his shop-door. - -"Good night, citizen," said Sydney Carton, pausing in going by; for, the -man eyed him inquisitively. - -"Good night, citizen." - -"How goes the Republic?" - -"You mean the Guillotine. Not ill. Sixty-three to-day. We shall mount -to a hundred soon. Samson and his men complain sometimes, of being -exhausted. Ha, ha, ha! He is so droll, that Samson. Such a Barber!" - -"Do you often go to see him--" - -"Shave? Always. Every day. What a barber! You have seen him at work?" - -"Never." - -"Go and see him when he has a good batch. Figure this to yourself, -citizen; he shaved the sixty-three to-day, in less than two pipes! Less -than two pipes. Word of honour!" - -As the grinning little man held out the pipe he was smoking, to explain -how he timed the executioner, Carton was so sensible of a rising desire -to strike the life out of him, that he turned away. - -"But you are not English," said the wood-sawyer, "though you wear -English dress?" - -"Yes," said Carton, pausing again, and answering over his shoulder. - -"You speak like a Frenchman." - -"I am an old student here." - -"Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good night, Englishman." - -"Good night, citizen." - -"But go and see that droll dog," the little man persisted, calling after -him. "And take a pipe with you!" - -Sydney had not gone far out of sight, when he stopped in the middle of -the street under a glimmering lamp, and wrote with his pencil on a scrap -of paper. Then, traversing with the decided step of one who remembered -the way well, several dark and dirty streets--much dirtier than usual, -for the best public thoroughfares remained uncleansed in those times of -terror--he stopped at a chemist's shop, which the owner was closing with -his own hands. A small, dim, crooked shop, kept in a tortuous, up-hill -thoroughfare, by a small, dim, crooked man. - -Giving this citizen, too, good night, as he confronted him at his -counter, he laid the scrap of paper before him. "Whew!" the chemist -whistled softly, as he read it. "Hi! hi! hi!" - -Sydney Carton took no heed, and the chemist said: - -"For you, citizen?" - -"For me." - -"You will be careful to keep them separate, citizen? You know the -consequences of mixing them?" - -"Perfectly." - -Certain small packets were made and given to him. He put them, one by -one, in the breast of his inner coat, counted out the money for them, -and deliberately left the shop. "There is nothing more to do," said he, -glancing upward at the moon, "until to-morrow. I can't sleep." - -It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words -aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of -negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who -had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into -his road and saw its end. - -Long ago, when he had been famous among his earliest competitors as a -youth of great promise, he had followed his father to the grave. His -mother had died, years before. These solemn words, which had been -read at his father's grave, arose in his mind as he went down the dark -streets, among the heavy shadows, with the moon and the clouds sailing -on high above him. "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." - -In a city dominated by the axe, alone at night, with natural sorrow -rising in him for the sixty-three who had been that day put to death, -and for to-morrow's victims then awaiting their doom in the prisons, -and still of to-morrow's and to-morrow'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 be -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 and 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 sheep--whom many fell -away from in dread--pressed 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 Evremonde, called Darnay. Released yesterday. Reaccused 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 Evremonde, -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." - -"Therese 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 stillness--the 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 wife, and all the other eyes there -intent upon the Doctor, who saw none of them--the paper was read, as -follows. - - - - -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 -mind--that my memory is exact and circumstantial--and 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 along behind me, driven very -fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it -might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a -voice called to the driver to stop. - -"The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, -and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage -was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the -door and alight before I came up with it. - -"I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to -conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, -I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather -younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, -and (as far as I could see) face too. - -"'You are Doctor Manette?' said one. - -"I am." - -"'Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,' said the other; 'the young -physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two -has made a rising reputation in Paris?' - -"'Gentlemen,' I returned, 'I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so -graciously.' - -"'We have been to your residence,' said the first, 'and not being -so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were -probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of -overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?' - -"The manner of both was imperious, and they both moved, as these words -were spoken, so as to place me between themselves and the carriage door. -They were armed. I was not. - -"'Gentlemen,' said I, 'pardon me; but I usually inquire who does me -the honour to seek my assistance, and what is the nature of the case to -which I am summoned.' - -"The reply to this was made by him who had spoken second. 'Doctor, -your clients are people of condition. As to the nature of the case, -our confidence in your skill assures us that you will ascertain it for -yourself better than we can describe it. Enough. Will you please to -enter the carriage?' - -"I could do nothing but comply, and I entered it in silence. They both -entered after me--the last springing in, after putting up the steps. The -carriage turned about, and drove on at its former speed. - -"I repeat this conversation exactly as it occurred. I have no doubt that -it is, word for word, the same. I describe everything exactly as it took -place, constraining my mind not to wander from the task. Where I make -the broken marks that follow here, I leave off for the time, and put my -paper in its hiding-place. - - ***** - -"The carriage left the streets behind, passed the North Barrier, and -emerged upon the country road. At two-thirds of a league from the -Barrier--I did not estimate the distance at that time, but afterwards -when I traversed it--it struck out of the main avenue, and presently -stopped at a solitary house, We all three alighted, and walked, by -a damp soft footpath in a garden where a neglected fountain had -overflowed, to the door of the house. It was not opened immediately, in -answer to the ringing of the bell, and one of my two conductors struck -the man who opened it, with his heavy riding glove, across the face. - -"There was nothing in this action to attract my particular attention, -for I had seen common people struck more commonly than dogs. But, the -other of the two, being angry likewise, struck the man in like manner -with his arm; the look and bearing of the brothers were then so exactly -alike, that I then first perceived them to be twin brothers. - -"From the time of our alighting at the outer gate (which we found -locked, and which one of the brothers had opened to admit us, and had -relocked), I had heard cries proceeding from an upper chamber. I was -conducted to this chamber straight, the cries growing louder as we -ascended the stairs, and I found a patient in a high fever of the brain, -lying on a bed. - -"The patient was a woman of great beauty, and young; assuredly not much -past twenty. Her hair was torn and ragged, and her arms were bound to -her sides with sashes and handkerchiefs. I noticed that these bonds were -all portions of a gentleman's dress. On one of them, which was a fringed -scarf for a dress of ceremony, I saw the armorial bearings of a Noble, -and the letter E. - -"I saw this, within the first minute of my contemplation of the patient; -for, in her restless strivings she had turned over on her face on the -edge of the bed, had drawn the end of the scarf into her mouth, and was -in danger of suffocation. My first act was to put out my hand to relieve -her breathing; and in moving the scarf aside, the embroidery in the -corner caught my sight. - -"I turned her gently over, placed my hands upon her breast to calm her -and keep her down, and looked into her face. Her eyes were dilated and -wild, and she constantly uttered piercing shrieks, and repeated the -words, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and then counted up to -twelve, and said, 'Hush!' For an instant, and no more, she would pause -to listen, and then the piercing shrieks would begin again, and she -would repeat the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and -would count up to twelve, and say, 'Hush!' There was no variation in the -order, or the manner. There was no cessation, but the regular moment's -pause, in the utterance of these sounds. - -"'How long,' I asked, 'has this lasted?' - -"To distinguish the brothers, I will call them the elder and the -younger; by the elder, I mean him who exercised the most authority. It -was the elder who replied, 'Since about this hour last night.' - -"'She has a husband, a father, and a brother?' - -"'A brother.' - -"'I do not address her brother?' - -"He answered with great contempt, 'No.' - -"'She has some recent association with the number twelve?' - -"The younger brother impatiently rejoined, 'With twelve o'clock?' - -"'See, gentlemen,' said I, still keeping my hands upon her breast, 'how -useless I am, as you have brought me! If I had known what I was coming -to see, I could have come provided. As it is, time must be lost. There -are no medicines to be obtained in this lonely place.' - -"The elder brother looked to the younger, who said haughtily, 'There is -a case of medicines here;' and brought it from a closet, and put it on -the table. - - ***** - -"I opened some of the bottles, smelt them, and put the stoppers to my -lips. If I had wanted to use anything save narcotic medicines that were -poisons in themselves, I would not have administered any of those. - -"'Do you doubt them?' asked the younger brother. - -"'You see, monsieur, I am going to use them,' I replied, and said no -more. - -"I made the patient swallow, with great difficulty, and after many -efforts, the dose that I desired to give. As I intended to repeat it -after a while, and as it was necessary to watch its influence, I then -sat down by the side of the bed. There was a timid and suppressed woman -in attendance (wife of the man down-stairs), who had retreated into -a corner. The house was damp and decayed, indifferently -furnished--evidently, recently occupied and temporarily used. Some thick -old hangings had been nailed up before the windows, to deaden the -sound of the shrieks. They continued to be uttered in their regular -succession, with the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' the -counting up to twelve, and 'Hush!' The frenzy was so violent, that I had -not unfastened the bandages restraining the arms; but, I had looked to -them, to see that they were not painful. The only spark of encouragement -in the case, was, that my hand upon the sufferer's breast had this much -soothing influence, that for minutes at a time it tranquillised the -figure. It had no effect upon the cries; no pendulum could be more -regular. - -"For the reason that my hand had this effect (I assume), I had sat by -the side of the bed for half an hour, with the two brothers looking on, -before the elder said: - -"'There is another patient.' - -"I was startled, and asked, 'Is it a pressing case?' - -"'You had better see,' he carelessly answered; and took up a light. - - ***** - -"The other patient lay in a back room across a second staircase, which -was a species of loft over a stable. There was a low plastered ceiling -to a part of it; the rest was open, to the ridge of the tiled roof, and -there were beams across. Hay and straw were stored in that portion of -the place, fagots for firing, and a heap of apples in sand. I had to -pass through that part, to get at the other. My memory is circumstantial -and unshaken. I try it with these details, and I see them all, in -this my cell in the Bastille, near the close of the tenth year of my -captivity, as I saw them all that night. - -"On some hay on the ground, with a cushion thrown under his head, lay a -handsome peasant boy--a boy of not more than seventeen at the most. -He lay on his back, with his teeth set, his right hand clenched on his -breast, and his glaring eyes looking straight upward. I could not see -where his wound was, as I kneeled on one knee over him; but, I could see -that he was dying of a wound from a sharp point. - -"'I am a doctor, my poor fellow,' said I. 'Let me examine it.' - -"'I do not want it examined,' he answered; 'let it be.' - -"It was under his hand, and I soothed him to let me move his hand away. -The wound was a sword-thrust, received from twenty to twenty-four hours -before, but no skill could have saved him if it had been looked to -without delay. He was then dying fast. As I turned my eyes to the elder -brother, I saw him looking down at this handsome boy whose life was -ebbing out, as if he were a wounded bird, or hare, or rabbit; not at all -as if he were a fellow-creature. - -"'How has this been done, monsieur?' said I. - -"'A crazed young common dog! A serf! Forced my brother to draw upon him, -and has fallen by my brother's sword--like a gentleman.' - -"There was no touch of pity, sorrow, or kindred humanity, in this -answer. The speaker seemed to acknowledge that it was inconvenient to -have that different order of creature dying there, and that it would -have been better if he had died in the usual obscure routine of his -vermin kind. He was quite incapable of any compassionate feeling about -the boy, or about his fate. - -"The boy's eyes had slowly moved to him as he had spoken, and they now -slowly moved to me. - -"'Doctor, they are very proud, these Nobles; but we common dogs are -proud too, sometimes. They plunder us, outrage us, beat us, kill us; but -we have a little pride left, sometimes. She--have you seen her, Doctor?' - -"The shrieks and the cries were audible there, though subdued by the -distance. He referred to them, as if she were lying in our presence. - -"I said, 'I have seen her.' - -"'She is my sister, Doctor. They have had their shameful rights, these -Nobles, in the modesty and virtue of our sisters, many years, but we -have had good girls among us. I know it, and have heard my father say -so. She was a good girl. She was betrothed to a good young man, too: a -tenant of his. We were all tenants of his--that man's who stands there. -The other is his brother, the worst of a bad race.' - -"It was with the greatest difficulty that the boy gathered bodily force -to speak; but, his spirit spoke with a dreadful emphasis. - -"'We were so robbed by that man who stands there, as all we common dogs -are by those superior Beings--taxed by him without mercy, obliged to -work for him without pay, obliged to grind our corn at his mill, obliged -to feed scores of his tame birds on our wretched crops, and forbidden -for our lives to keep a single tame bird of our own, pillaged and -plundered to that degree that when we chanced to have a bit of meat, we -ate it in fear, with the door barred and the shutters closed, that his -people should not see it and take it from us--I say, we were so robbed, -and hunted, and were made so poor, that our father told us it was a -dreadful thing to bring a child into the world, and that what we should -most pray for, was, that our women might be barren and our miserable -race die out!' - -"I had never before seen the sense of being oppressed, bursting forth -like a fire. I had supposed that it must be latent in the people -somewhere; but, I had never seen it break out, until I saw it in the -dying boy. - -"'Nevertheless, Doctor, my sister married. He was ailing at that time, -poor fellow, and she married her lover, that she might tend and comfort -him in our cottage--our dog-hut, as that man would call it. She had not -been married many weeks, when that man's brother saw her and admired -her, and asked that man to lend her to him--for what are husbands among -us! He was willing enough, but my sister was good and virtuous, and -hated his brother with a hatred as strong as mine. What did the two -then, to persuade her husband to use his influence with her, to make her -willing?' - -"The boy's eyes, which had been fixed on mine, slowly turned to the -looker-on, and I saw in the two faces that all he said was true. The two -opposing kinds of pride confronting one another, I can see, even in this -Bastille; the gentleman's, all negligent indifference; the peasant's, all -trodden-down sentiment, and passionate revenge. - -"'You know, Doctor, that it is among the Rights of these Nobles to -harness us common dogs to carts, and drive us. They so harnessed him and -drove him. You know that it is among their Rights to keep us in their -grounds all night, quieting the frogs, in order that their noble sleep -may not be disturbed. They kept him out in the unwholesome mists at -night, and ordered him back into his harness in the day. But he was -not persuaded. No! Taken out of harness one day at noon, to feed--if he -could find food--he sobbed twelve times, once for every stroke of the -bell, and died on her bosom.' - -"Nothing human could have held life in the boy but his determination to -tell all his wrong. He forced back the gathering shadows of death, as -he forced his clenched right hand to remain clenched, and to cover his -wound. - -"'Then, with that man's permission and even with his aid, his -brother took her away; in spite of what I know she must have told his -brother--and what that is, will not be long unknown to you, Doctor, if -it is now--his brother took her away--for his pleasure and diversion, -for a little while. I saw her pass me on the road. When I took the -tidings home, our father's heart burst; he never spoke one of the words -that filled it. I took my young sister (for I have another) to a place -beyond the reach of this man, and where, at least, she will never be -_his_ vassal. Then, I tracked the brother here, and last night climbed -in--a common dog, but sword in hand.--Where is the loft window? It was -somewhere here?' - -"The room was darkening to his sight; the world was narrowing around -him. I glanced about me, and saw that the hay and straw were trampled -over the floor, as if there had been a struggle. - -"'She heard me, and ran in. I told her not to come near us till he was -dead. He came in and first tossed me some pieces of money; then struck -at me with a whip. But I, though a common dog, so struck at him as to -make him draw. Let him break into as many pieces as he will, the sword -that he stained with my common blood; he drew to defend himself--thrust -at me with all his skill for his life.' - -"My glance had fallen, but a few moments before, on the fragments of -a broken sword, lying among the hay. That weapon was a gentleman's. In -another place, lay an old sword that seemed to have been a soldier's. - -"'Now, lift me up, Doctor; lift me up. Where is he?' - -"'He is not here,' I said, supporting the boy, and thinking that he -referred to the brother. - -"'He! Proud as these nobles are, he is afraid to see me. Where is the -man who was here? Turn my face to him.' - -"I did so, raising the boy's head against my knee. But, invested for the -moment with extraordinary power, he raised himself completely: obliging -me to rise too, or I could not have still supported him. - -"'Marquis,' said the boy, turned to him with his eyes opened wide, and -his right hand raised, 'in the days when all these things are to be -answered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, to -answer for them. I mark this cross of blood upon you, as a sign that -I do it. In the days when all these things are to be answered for, -I summon your brother, the worst of the bad race, to answer for them -separately. I mark this cross of blood upon him, as a sign that I do -it.' - -"Twice, he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with his -forefinger drew a cross in the air. He stood for an instant with the -finger yet raised, and as it dropped, he dropped with it, and I laid him -down dead. - - ***** - -"When I returned to the bedside of the young woman, I found her raving -in precisely the same order of continuity. I knew that this might last -for many hours, and that it would probably end in the silence of the -grave. - -"I repeated the medicines I had given her, and I sat at the side of -the bed until the night was far advanced. She never abated the piercing -quality of her shrieks, never stumbled in the distinctness or the order -of her words. They were always 'My husband, my father, and my brother! -One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, -twelve. Hush!' - -"This lasted twenty-six hours from the time when I first saw her. I had -come and gone twice, and was again sitting by her, when she began to -falter. I did what little could be done to assist that opportunity, and -by-and-bye she sank into a lethargy, and lay like the dead. - -"It was as if the wind and rain had lulled at last, after a long and -fearful storm. I released her arms, and called the woman to assist me to -compose her figure and the dress she had torn. It was then that I knew -her condition to be that of one in whom the first expectations of being -a mother have arisen; and it was then that I lost the little hope I had -had of her. - -"'Is she dead?' asked the Marquis, whom I will still describe as the -elder brother, coming booted into the room from his horse. - -"'Not dead,' said I; 'but like to die.' - -"'What strength there is in these common bodies!' he said, looking down -at her with some curiosity. - -"'There is prodigious strength,' I answered him, 'in sorrow and -despair.' - -"He first laughed at my words, and then frowned at them. He moved a -chair with his foot near to mine, ordered the woman away, and said in a -subdued voice, - -"'Doctor, finding my brother in this difficulty with these hinds, I -recommended that your aid should be invited. Your reputation is high, -and, as a young man with your fortune to make, you are probably mindful -of your interest. The things that you see here, are things to be seen, -and not spoken of.' - -"I listened to the patient's breathing, and avoided answering. - -"'Do you honour me with your attention, Doctor?' - -"'Monsieur,' said I, 'in my profession, the communications of patients -are always received in confidence.' I was guarded in my answer, for I -was troubled in my mind with what I had heard and seen. - -"Her breathing was so difficult to trace, that I carefully tried the -pulse and the heart. There was life, and no more. Looking round as I -resumed my seat, I found both the brothers intent upon me. - - ***** - -"I write with so much difficulty, the cold is so severe, I am so -fearful of being detected and consigned to an underground cell and total -darkness, that I must abridge this narrative. There is no confusion or -failure in my memory; it can recall, and could detail, every word that -was ever spoken between me and those brothers. - -"She lingered for a week. Towards the last, I could understand some few -syllables that she said to me, by placing my ear close to her lips. She -asked me where she was, and I told her; who I was, and I told her. It -was in vain that I asked her for her family name. She faintly shook her -head upon the pillow, and kept her secret, as the boy had done. - -"I had no opportunity of asking her any question, until I had told the -brothers she was sinking fast, and could not live another day. Until -then, though no one was ever presented to her consciousness save the -woman and myself, one or other of them had always jealously sat behind -the curtain at the head of the bed when I was there. But when it came to -that, they seemed careless what communication I might hold with her; as -if--the thought passed through my mind--I were dying too. - -"I always observed that their pride bitterly resented the younger -brother's (as I call him) having crossed swords with a peasant, and that -peasant a boy. The only consideration that appeared to affect the mind -of either of them was the consideration that this was highly degrading -to the family, and was ridiculous. As often as I caught the younger -brother's eyes, their expression reminded me that he disliked me deeply, -for knowing what I knew from the boy. He was smoother and more polite to -me than the elder; but I saw this. I also saw that I was an incumbrance -in the mind of the elder, too. - -"My patient died, two hours before midnight--at a time, by my watch, -answering almost to the minute when I had first seen her. I was alone -with her, when her forlorn young head drooped gently on one side, and -all her earthly wrongs and sorrows ended. - -"The brothers were waiting in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride -away. I had heard them, alone at the bedside, striking their boots with -their riding-whips, and loitering up and down. - -"'At last she is dead?' said the elder, when I went in. - -"'She is dead,' said I. - -"'I congratulate you, my brother,' were his words as he turned round. - -"He had before offered me money, which I had postponed taking. He now -gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it on -the table. I had considered the question, and had resolved to accept -nothing. - -"'Pray excuse me,' said I. 'Under the circumstances, no.' - -"They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to -them, and we parted without another word on either side. - - ***** - -"I am weary, weary, weary--worn down by misery. I cannot read what I -have written with this gaunt hand. - -"Early in the morning, the rouleau of gold was left at my door in a -little box, with my name on the outside. From the first, I had anxiously -considered what I ought to do. I decided, that day, to write privately -to the Minister, stating the nature of the two cases to which I had been -summoned, and the place to which I had gone: in effect, stating all the -circumstances. I knew what Court influence was, and what the immunities -of the Nobles were, and I expected that the matter would never be -heard of; but, I wished to relieve my own mind. I had kept the matter a -profound secret, even from my wife; and this, too, I resolved to state -in my letter. I had no apprehension whatever of my real danger; but -I was conscious that there might be danger for others, if others were -compromised by possessing the knowledge that I possessed. - -"I was much engaged that day, and could not complete my letter that -night. I rose long before my usual time next morning to finish it. -It was the last day of the year. The letter was lying before me just -completed, when I was told that a lady waited, who wished to see me. - - ***** - -"I am growing more and more unequal to the task I have set myself. It is -so cold, so dark, my senses are so benumbed, and the gloom upon me is so -dreadful. - -"The lady was young, engaging, and handsome, but not marked for long -life. She was in great agitation. She presented herself to me as the -wife of the Marquis St. Evremonde. I connected the title by which the -boy had addressed the elder brother, with the initial letter embroidered -on the scarf, and had no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that I -had seen that nobleman very lately. - -"My memory is still accurate, but I cannot write the words of our -conversation. I suspect that I am watched more closely than I was, and I -know not at what times I may be watched. She had in part suspected, and -in part discovered, the main facts of the cruel story, of her husband's -share in it, and my being resorted to. She did not know that the girl -was dead. Her hope had been, she said in great distress, to show her, -in secret, a woman's sympathy. Her hope had been to avert the wrath of -Heaven from a House that had long been hateful to the suffering many. - -"She had reasons for believing that there was a young sister living, and -her greatest desire was, to help that sister. I could tell her nothing -but that there was such a sister; beyond that, I knew nothing. Her -inducement to come to me, relying on my confidence, had been the hope -that I could tell her the name and place of abode. Whereas, to this -wretched hour I am ignorant of both. - - ***** - -"These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warning, -yesterday. I must finish my record to-day. - -"She was a good, compassionate lady, and not happy in her marriage. How -could she be! The brother distrusted and disliked her, and his influence -was all opposed to her; she stood in dread of him, and in dread of her -husband too. When I handed her down to the door, there was a child, a -pretty boy from two to three years old, in her carriage. - -"'For his sake, Doctor,' she said, pointing to him in tears, 'I would do -all I can to make what poor amends I can. He will never prosper in his -inheritance otherwise. I have a presentiment that if no other innocent -atonement is made for this, it will one day be required of him. What -I have left to call my own--it is little beyond the worth of a few -jewels--I will make it the first charge of his life to bestow, with the -compassion and lamenting of his dead mother, on this injured family, if -the sister can be discovered.' - -"She kissed the boy, and said, caressing him, 'It is for thine own dear -sake. Thou wilt be faithful, little Charles?' The child answered her -bravely, 'Yes!' I kissed her hand, and she took him in her arms, and -went away caressing him. I never saw her more. - -"As she had mentioned her husband's name in the faith that I knew it, -I added no mention of it to my letter. I sealed my letter, and, not -trusting it out of my own hands, delivered it myself that day. - -"That night, the last night of the year, towards nine o'clock, a man in -a black dress rang at my gate, demanded to see me, and softly followed -my servant, Ernest Defarge, a youth, up-stairs. When my servant came -into the room where I sat with my wife--O my wife, beloved of my heart! -My fair young English wife!--we saw the man, who was supposed to be at -the gate, standing silent behind him. - -"An urgent case in the Rue St. Honore, he said. It would not detain me, -he had a coach in waiting. - -"It brought me here, it brought me to my grave. When I was clear of the -house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from behind, and -my arms were pinioned. The two brothers crossed the road from a dark -corner, and identified me with a single gesture. The Marquis took from -his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the light -of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot. -Not a word was spoken. I was brought here, I was brought to my living -grave. - -"If it had pleased _God_ to put it in the hard heart of either of the -brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of -my dearest wife--so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or -dead--I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them. But, -now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that -they have no part in His mercies. And them and their descendants, to the -last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last -night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times -when all these things shall be answered for. I denounce them to Heaven -and to earth." - -A terrible sound arose when the reading of this document was done. A -sound of craving and eagerness that had nothing articulate in it but -blood. The narrative called up the most revengeful passions of the time, -and there was not a head in the nation but must have dropped before it. - -Little need, in presence of that tribunal and that auditory, to show -how the Defarges had not made the paper public, with the other captured -Bastille memorials borne in procession, and had kept it, biding their -time. Little need to show that this detested family name had long been -anathematised by Saint Antoine, and was wrought into the fatal register. -The man never trod ground whose virtues and services would have -sustained him in that place that day, against such denunciation. - -And all the worse for the doomed man, that the denouncer was a -well-known citizen, his own attached friend, the father of his wife. One -of the frenzied aspirations of the populace was, for imitations of -the questionable public virtues of antiquity, and for sacrifices and -self-immolations on the people's altar. Therefore when the President -said (else had his own head quivered on his shoulders), that the good -physician of the Republic would deserve better still of the Republic by -rooting out an obnoxious family of Aristocrats, and would doubtless feel -a sacred glow and joy in making his daughter a widow and her child an -orphan, there was wild excitement, patriotic fervour, not a touch of -human sympathy. - -"Much influence around him, has that Doctor?" murmured Madame Defarge, -smiling to The Vengeance. "Save him now, my Doctor, save him!" - -At every juryman's vote, there was a roar. Another and another. Roar and -roar. - -Unanimously voted. At heart and by descent an Aristocrat, an enemy -of the Republic, a notorious oppressor of the People. Back to the -Conciergerie, and Death within four-and-twenty hours! - - - - -XI. Dusk - - -The wretched wife of the innocent man thus doomed to die, fell under -the sentence, as if she had been mortally stricken. But, she uttered no -sound; and so strong was the voice within her, representing that it was -she of all the world who must uphold him in his misery and not augment -it, that it quickly raised her, even from that shock. - -The Judges having to take part in a public demonstration out of doors, -the Tribunal adjourned. The quick noise and movement of the court's -emptying itself by many passages had not ceased, when Lucie stood -stretching out her arms towards her husband, with nothing in her face -but love and consolation. - -"If I might touch him! If I might embrace him once! O, good citizens, if -you would have so much compassion for us!" - -There was but a gaoler left, along with two of the four men who had -taken him last night, and Barsad. The people had all poured out to the -show in the streets. Barsad proposed to the rest, "Let her embrace -him then; it is but a moment." It was silently acquiesced in, and they -passed her over the seats in the hall to a raised place, where he, by -leaning over the dock, could fold her in his arms. - -"Farewell, dear darling of my soul. My parting blessing on my love. We -shall meet again, where the weary are at rest!" - -They were her husband's words, as he held her to his bosom. - -"I can bear it, dear Charles. I am supported from above: don't suffer -for me. A parting blessing for our child." - -"I send it to her by you. I kiss her by you. I say farewell to her by -you." - -"My husband. No! A moment!" He was tearing himself apart from her. -"We shall not be separated long. I feel that this will break my heart -by-and-bye; but I will do my duty while I can, and when I leave her, God -will raise up friends for her, as He did for me." - -Her father had followed her, and would have fallen on his knees to both -of them, but that Darnay put out a hand and seized him, crying: - -"No, no! What have you done, what have you done, that you should kneel -to us! We know now, what a struggle you made of old. We know, now what -you underwent when you suspected my descent, and when you knew it. We -know now, the natural antipathy you strove against, and conquered, for -her dear sake. We thank you with all our hearts, and all our love and -duty. Heaven be with you!" - -Her father's only answer was to draw his hands through his white hair, -and wring them with a shriek of anguish. - -"It could not be otherwise," said the prisoner. "All things have worked -together as they have fallen out. It was the always-vain endeavour to -discharge my poor mother's trust that first brought my fatal presence -near you. Good could never come of such evil, a happier end was not in -nature to so unhappy a beginning. Be comforted, and forgive me. Heaven -bless you!" - -As he was drawn away, his wife released him, and stood looking after him -with her hands touching one another in the attitude of prayer, and -with a radiant look upon her face, in which there was even a comforting -smile. As he went out at the prisoners' door, she turned, laid her head -lovingly on her father's breast, tried to speak to him, and fell at his -feet. - -Then, issuing from the obscure corner from which he had never moved, -Sydney Carton came and took her up. Only her father and Mr. Lorry were -with her. His arm trembled as it raised her, and supported her head. -Yet, there was an air about him that was not all of pity--that had a -flush of pride in it. - -"Shall I take her to a coach? I shall never feel her weight." - -He carried her lightly to the door, and laid her tenderly down in a -coach. Her father and their old friend got into it, and he took his seat -beside the driver. - -When they arrived at the gateway where he had paused in the dark not -many hours before, to picture to himself on which of the rough stones of -the street her feet had trodden, he lifted her again, and carried her up -the staircase to their rooms. There, he laid her down on a couch, where -her child and Miss Pross wept over her. - -"Don't recall her to herself," he said, softly, to the latter, "she is -better so. Don't revive her to consciousness, while she only faints." - -"Oh, Carton, Carton, dear Carton!" cried little Lucie, springing up and -throwing her arms passionately round him, in a burst of grief. "Now that -you have come, I think you will do something to help mamma, something to -save papa! O, look at her, dear Carton! Can you, of all the people who -love her, bear to see her so?" - -He bent over the child, and laid her blooming cheek against his face. He -put her gently from him, and looked at her unconscious mother. - -"Before I go," he said, and paused--"I may kiss her?" - -It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her face -with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest to -him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was a -handsome old lady, that she heard him say, "A life you love." - -When he had gone out into the next room, he turned suddenly on Mr. Lorry -and her father, who were following, and said to the latter: - -"You had great influence but yesterday, Doctor Manette; let it at least -be tried. These judges, and all the men in power, are very friendly to -you, and very recognisant of your services; are they not?" - -"Nothing connected with Charles was concealed from me. I had the -strongest assurances that I should save him; and I did." He returned the -answer in great trouble, and very slowly. - -"Try them again. The hours between this and to-morrow afternoon are few -and short, but try." - -"I intend to try. I will not rest a moment." - -"That's well. I have known such energy as yours do great things before -now--though never," he added, with a smile and a sigh together, "such -great things as this. But try! Of little worth as life is when we misuse -it, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if it -were not." - -"I will go," said Doctor Manette, "to the Prosecutor and the President -straight, and I will go to others whom it is better not to name. I will -write too, and--But stay! There is a Celebration in the streets, and no -one will be accessible until dark." - -"That's true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not much the -forlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to know how you -speed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you likely to have seen -these dread powers, Doctor Manette?" - -"Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two from -this." - -"It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two. If I -go to Mr. Lorry's at nine, shall I hear what you have done, either from -our friend or from yourself?" - -"Yes." - -"May you prosper!" - -Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on the -shoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn. - -"I have no hope," said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper. - -"Nor have I." - -"If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to spare -him--which is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any man's -to them!--I doubt if they durst spare him after the demonstration in the -court." - -"And so do I. I heard the fall of the axe in that sound." - -Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post, and bowed his face upon it. - -"Don't despond," said Carton, very gently; "don't grieve. I encouraged -Doctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it might one day be -consolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think 'his life was wantonly -thrown away or wasted,' and that might trouble her." - -"Yes, yes, yes," returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, "you are right. -But he will perish; there is no real hope." - -"Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope," echoed Carton. - -And walked with a settled step, down-stairs. - - - - -XII. Darkness - - -Sydney Carton paused in the street, not quite decided where to go. "At -Tellson's banking-house at nine," he said, with a musing face. "Shall I -do well, in the mean time, to show myself? I think so. It is best that -these people should know there is such a man as I here; it is a sound -precaution, and may be a necessary preparation. But care, care, care! -Let me think it out!" - -Checking his steps which had begun to tend towards an object, he took a -turn or two in the already darkening street, and traced the thought -in his mind to its possible consequences. His first impression was -confirmed. "It is best," he said, finally resolved, "that these people -should know there is such a man as I here." And he turned his face -towards Saint Antoine. - -Defarge had described himself, that day, as the keeper of a wine-shop in -the Saint Antoine suburb. It was not difficult for one who knew the city -well, to find his house without asking any question. Having ascertained -its situation, Carton came out of those closer streets again, and dined -at a place of refreshment and fell sound asleep after dinner. For the -first time in many years, he had no strong drink. Since last night he -had taken nothing but a little light thin wine, and last night he had -dropped the brandy slowly down on Mr. Lorry's hearth like a man who had -done with it. - -It was as late as seven o'clock when he awoke refreshed, and went out -into the streets again. As he passed along towards Saint Antoine, he -stopped at a shop-window where there was a mirror, and slightly altered -the disordered arrangement of his loose cravat, and his coat-collar, and -his wild hair. This done, he went on direct to Defarge's, and went in. - -There happened to be no customer in the shop but Jacques Three, of the -restless fingers and the croaking voice. This man, whom he had seen upon -the Jury, stood drinking at the little counter, in conversation with the -Defarges, man and wife. The Vengeance assisted in the conversation, like -a regular member of the establishment. - -As Carton walked in, took his seat and asked (in very indifferent -French) for a small measure of wine, Madame Defarge cast a careless -glance at him, and then a keener, and then a keener, and then advanced -to him herself, and asked him what it was he had ordered. - -He repeated what he had already said. - -"English?" asked Madame Defarge, inquisitively raising her dark -eyebrows. - -After looking at her, as if the sound of even a single French word were -slow to express itself to him, he answered, in his former strong foreign -accent. "Yes, madame, yes. I am English!" - -Madame Defarge returned to her counter to get the wine, and, as he -took up a Jacobin journal and feigned to pore over it puzzling out its -meaning, he heard her say, "I swear to you, like Evremonde!" - -Defarge brought him the wine, and gave him Good Evening. - -"How?" - -"Good evening." - -"Oh! Good evening, citizen," filling his glass. "Ah! and good wine. I -drink to the Republic." - -Defarge went back to the counter, and said, "Certainly, a little like." -Madame sternly retorted, "I tell you a good deal like." Jacques Three -pacifically remarked, "He is so much in your mind, see you, madame." -The amiable Vengeance added, with a laugh, "Yes, my faith! And you -are looking forward with so much pleasure to seeing him once more -to-morrow!" - -Carton followed the lines and words of his paper, with a slow -forefinger, and with a studious and absorbed face. They were all leaning -their arms on the counter close together, speaking low. After a silence -of a few moments, during which they all looked towards him without -disturbing his outward attention from the Jacobin editor, they resumed -their conversation. - -"It is true what madame says," observed Jacques Three. "Why stop? There -is great force in that. Why stop?" - -"Well, well," reasoned Defarge, "but one must stop somewhere. After all, -the question is still where?" - -"At extermination," said madame. - -"Magnificent!" croaked Jacques Three. The Vengeance, also, highly -approved. - -"Extermination is good doctrine, my wife," said Defarge, rather -troubled; "in general, I say nothing against it. But this Doctor has -suffered much; you have seen him to-day; you have observed his face when -the paper was read." - -"I have observed his face!" repeated madame, contemptuously and angrily. -"Yes. I have observed his face. I have observed his face to be not the -face of a true friend of the Republic. Let him take care of his face!" - -"And you have observed, my wife," said Defarge, in a deprecatory manner, -"the anguish of his daughter, which must be a dreadful anguish to him!" - -"I have observed his daughter," repeated madame; "yes, I have observed -his daughter, more times than one. I have observed her to-day, and I -have observed her other days. I have observed her in the court, and -I have observed her in the street by the prison. Let me but lift my -finger--!" She seemed to raise it (the listener's eyes were always on -his paper), and to let it fall with a rattle on the ledge before her, as -if the axe had dropped. - -"The citizeness is superb!" croaked the Juryman. - -"She is an Angel!" said The Vengeance, and embraced her. - -"As to thee," pursued madame, implacably, addressing her husband, "if it -depended on thee--which, happily, it does not--thou wouldst rescue this -man even now." - -"No!" protested Defarge. "Not if to lift this glass would do it! But I -would leave the matter there. I say, stop there." - -"See you then, Jacques," said Madame Defarge, wrathfully; "and see you, -too, my little Vengeance; see you both! Listen! For other crimes as -tyrants and oppressors, I have this race a long time on my register, -doomed to destruction and extermination. Ask my husband, is that so." - -"It is so," assented Defarge, without being asked. - -"In the beginning of the great days, when the Bastille falls, he finds -this paper of to-day, and he brings it home, and in the middle of the -night when this place is clear and shut, we read it, here on this spot, -by the light of this lamp. Ask him, is that so." - -"It is so," assented Defarge. - -"That night, I tell him, when the paper is read through, and the lamp is -burnt out, and the day is gleaming in above those shutters and between -those iron bars, that I have now a secret to communicate. Ask him, is -that so." - -"It is so," assented Defarge again. - -"I communicate to him that secret. I smite this bosom with these two -hands as I smite it now, and I tell him, 'Defarge, I was brought up -among the fishermen of the sea-shore, and that peasant family so injured -by the two Evremonde brothers, as that Bastille paper describes, is my -family. Defarge, that sister of the mortally wounded boy upon the ground -was my sister, that husband was my sister's husband, that unborn child -was their child, that brother was my brother, that father was my father, -those dead are my dead, and that summons to answer for those things -descends to me!' Ask him, is that so." - -"It is so," assented Defarge once more. - -"Then tell Wind and Fire where to stop," returned madame; "but don't -tell me." - -Both her hearers derived a horrible enjoyment from the deadly nature -of her wrath--the listener could feel how white she was, without seeing -her--and both highly commended it. Defarge, a weak minority, interposed -a few words for the memory of the compassionate wife of the Marquis; but -only elicited from his own wife a repetition of her last reply. "Tell -the Wind and the Fire where to stop; not me!" - -Customers entered, and the group was broken up. The English customer -paid for what he had had, perplexedly counted his change, and asked, as -a stranger, to be directed towards the National Palace. Madame Defarge -took him to the door, and put her arm on his, in pointing out the road. -The English customer was not without his reflections then, that it might -be a good deed to seize that arm, lift it, and strike under it sharp and -deep. - -But, he went his way, and was soon swallowed up in the shadow of the -prison wall. At the appointed hour, he emerged from it to present -himself in Mr. Lorry's room again, where he found the old gentleman -walking to and fro in restless anxiety. He said he had been with Lucie -until just now, and had only left her for a few minutes, to come and -keep his appointment. Her father had not been seen, since he quitted the -banking-house towards four o'clock. She had some faint hopes that his -mediation might save Charles, but they were very slight. He had been -more than five hours gone: where could he be? - -Mr. Lorry waited until ten; but, Doctor Manette not returning, and -he being unwilling to leave Lucie any longer, it was arranged that he -should go back to her, and come to the banking-house again at midnight. -In the meanwhile, Carton would wait alone by the fire for the Doctor. - -He waited and waited, and the clock struck twelve; but Doctor Manette -did not come back. Mr. Lorry returned, and found no tidings of him, and -brought none. Where could he be? - -They were discussing this question, and were almost building up some -weak structure of hope on his prolonged absence, when they heard him on -the stairs. The instant he entered the room, it was plain that all was -lost. - -Whether he had really been to any one, or whether he had been all that -time traversing the streets, was never known. As he stood staring at -them, they asked him no question, for his face told them everything. - -"I cannot find it," said he, "and I must have it. Where is it?" - -His head and throat were bare, and, as he spoke with a helpless look -straying all around, he took his coat off, and let it drop on the floor. - -"Where is my bench? I have been looking everywhere for my bench, and I -can't find it. What have they done with my work? Time presses: I must -finish those shoes." - -They looked at one another, and their hearts died within them. - -"Come, come!" said he, in a whimpering miserable way; "let me get to -work. Give me my work." - -Receiving no answer, he tore his hair, and beat his feet upon the -ground, like a distracted child. - -"Don't torture a poor forlorn wretch," he implored them, with a dreadful -cry; "but give me my work! What is to become of us, if those shoes are -not done to-night?" - -Lost, utterly lost! - -It was so clearly beyond hope to reason with him, or try to restore him, -that--as if by agreement--they each put a hand upon his shoulder, and -soothed him to sit down before the fire, with a promise that he should -have his work presently. He sank into the chair, and brooded over the -embers, and shed tears. As if all that had happened since the garret -time were a momentary fancy, or a dream, Mr. Lorry saw him shrink into -the exact figure that Defarge had had in keeping. - -Affected, and impressed with terror as they both were, by this spectacle -of ruin, it was not a time to yield to such emotions. His lonely -daughter, bereft of her final hope and reliance, appealed to them both -too strongly. Again, as if by agreement, they looked at one another with -one meaning in their faces. Carton was the first to speak: - -"The last chance is gone: it was not much. Yes; he had better be taken -to her. But, before you go, will you, for a moment, steadily attend to -me? Don't ask me why I make the stipulations I am going to make, and -exact the promise I am going to exact; I have a reason--a good one." - -"I do not doubt it," answered Mr. Lorry. "Say on." - -The figure in the chair between them, was all the time monotonously -rocking itself to and fro, and moaning. They spoke in such a tone as -they would have used if they had been watching by a sick-bed in the -night. - -Carton stooped to pick up the coat, which lay almost entangling his -feet. As he did so, a small case in which the Doctor was accustomed to -carry the lists of his day's duties, fell lightly on the floor. Carton -took it up, and there was a folded paper in it. "We should look -at this!" he said. Mr. Lorry nodded his consent. He opened it, and -exclaimed, "Thank _God!_" - -"What is it?" asked Mr. Lorry, eagerly. - -"A moment! Let me speak of it in its place. First," he put his hand in -his coat, and took another paper from it, "that is the certificate which -enables me to pass out of this city. Look at it. You see--Sydney Carton, -an Englishman?" - -Mr. Lorry held it open in his hand, gazing in his earnest face. - -"Keep it for me until to-morrow. I shall see him to-morrow, you -remember, and I had better not take it into the prison." - -"Why not?" - -"I don't know; I prefer not to do so. Now, take this paper that Doctor -Manette has carried about him. It is a similar certificate, enabling him -and his daughter and her child, at any time, to pass the barrier and the -frontier! You see?" - -"Yes!" - -"Perhaps he obtained it as his last and utmost precaution against evil, -yesterday. When is it dated? But no matter; don't stay to look; put it -up carefully with mine and your own. Now, observe! I never doubted until -within this hour or two, that he had, or could have such a paper. It is -good, until recalled. But it may be soon recalled, and, I have reason to -think, will be." - -"They are not in danger?" - -"They are in great danger. They are in danger of denunciation by Madame -Defarge. I know it from her own lips. I have overheard words of that -woman's, to-night, which have presented their danger to me in strong -colours. I have lost no time, and since then, I have seen the spy. He -confirms me. He knows that a wood-sawyer, living by the prison wall, -is under the control of the Defarges, and has been rehearsed by -Madame Defarge as to his having seen Her"--he never mentioned Lucie's -name--"making signs and signals to prisoners. It is easy to foresee that -the pretence will be the common one, a prison plot, and that it will -involve her life--and perhaps her child's--and perhaps her father's--for -both have been seen with her at that place. Don't look so horrified. You -will save them all." - -"Heaven grant I may, Carton! But how?" - -"I am going to tell you how. It will depend on you, and it could depend -on no better man. This new denunciation will certainly not take place -until after to-morrow; probably not until two or three days afterwards; -more probably a week afterwards. You know it is a capital crime, to -mourn for, or sympathise with, a victim of the Guillotine. She and her -father would unquestionably be guilty of this crime, and this woman (the -inveteracy of whose pursuit cannot be described) would wait to add that -strength to her case, and make herself doubly sure. You follow me?" - -"So attentively, and with so much confidence in what you say, that for -the moment I lose sight," touching the back of the Doctor's chair, "even -of this distress." - -"You have money, and can buy the means of travelling to the seacoast -as quickly as the journey can be made. Your preparations have been -completed for some days, to return to England. Early to-morrow have your -horses ready, so that they may be in starting trim at two o'clock in the -afternoon." - -"It shall be done!" - -His manner was so fervent and inspiring, that Mr. Lorry caught the -flame, and was as quick as youth. - -"You are a noble heart. Did I say we could depend upon no better man? -Tell her, to-night, what you know of her danger as involving her child -and her father. Dwell upon that, for she would lay her own fair head -beside her husband's cheerfully." He faltered for an instant; then went -on as before. "For the sake of her child and her father, press upon her -the necessity of leaving Paris, with them and you, at that hour. Tell -her that it was her husband's last arrangement. Tell her that more -depends upon it than she dare believe, or hope. You think that her -father, even in this sad state, will submit himself to her; do you not?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"I thought so. Quietly and steadily have all these arrangements made in -the courtyard here, even to the taking of your own seat in the carriage. -The moment I come to you, take me in, and drive away." - -"I understand that I wait for you under all circumstances?" - -"You have my certificate in your hand with the rest, you know, and will -reserve my place. Wait for nothing but to have my place occupied, and -then for England!" - -"Why, then," said Mr. Lorry, grasping his eager but so firm and steady -hand, "it does not all depend on one old man, but I shall have a young -and ardent man at my side." - -"By the help of Heaven you shall! Promise me solemnly that nothing will -influence you to alter the course on which we now stand pledged to one -another." - -"Nothing, Carton." - -"Remember these words to-morrow: change the course, or delay in it--for -any reason--and no life can possibly be saved, and many lives must -inevitably be sacrificed." - -"I will remember them. I hope to do my part faithfully." - -"And I hope to do mine. Now, good bye!" - -Though he said it with a grave smile of earnestness, and though he even -put the old man's hand to his lips, he did not part from him then. He -helped him so far to arouse the rocking figure before the dying embers, -as to get a cloak and hat put upon it, and to tempt it forth to find -where the bench and work were hidden that it still moaningly besought -to have. He walked on the other side of it and protected it to the -courtyard of the house where the afflicted heart--so happy in -the memorable time when he had revealed his own desolate heart to -it--outwatched the awful night. He entered the courtyard and remained -there for a few moments alone, looking up at the light in the window of -her room. Before he went away, he breathed a blessing towards it, and a -Farewell. - - - - -XIII. Fifty-two - - -In the black prison of the Conciergerie, the doomed of the day awaited -their fate. They were in number as the weeks of the year. Fifty-two were -to roll that afternoon on the life-tide of the city to the boundless -everlasting sea. Before their cells were quit of them, new occupants -were appointed; before their blood ran into the blood spilled yesterday, -the blood that was to mingle with theirs to-morrow was already set -apart. - -Two score and twelve were told off. From the farmer-general of seventy, -whose riches could not buy his life, to the seamstress of twenty, whose -poverty and obscurity could not save her. Physical diseases, engendered -in the vices and neglects of men, will seize on victims of all degrees; -and the frightful moral disorder, born of unspeakable suffering, -intolerable oppression, and heartless indifference, smote equally -without distinction. - -Charles Darnay, alone in a cell, had sustained himself with no -flattering delusion since he came to it from the Tribunal. In every line -of the narrative he had heard, he had heard his condemnation. 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 condition--fully intelligible now--that -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 her--though he added that he knew it was needless--to 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 he 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 nowise -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 he walked to and fro, and the clocks struck the -numbers he would never hear again. Nine gone 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 her--your -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 it--take 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 clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton--his -hand again in his breast--looked steadily at him. - -"Hurry, hurry!" - -The prisoner bent over the paper, once more. - -"'If it had been otherwise;'" Carton's hand was again watchfully and -softly stealing down; "'I never should have used the longer opportunity. -If it had been otherwise;'" the hand was at the prisoner's face; "'I -should but have had so much the more to answer for. If it had been -otherwise--'" Carton looked at the pen and saw it was trailing off into -unintelligible signs. - -Carton's hand moved back to his breast no more. The prisoner sprang up -with a reproachful look, but Carton's hand was close and firm at his -nostrils, and Carton's left arm caught him round the waist. For a few -seconds he faintly struggled with the man who had come to lay down his -life for him; but, within a minute or so, he was stretched insensible on -the ground. - -Quickly, but with hands as true to the purpose as his heart was, Carton -dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside, combed back -his hair, and tied it with the ribbon the prisoner had worn. Then, he -softly called, "Enter there! Come in!" and the Spy presented himself. - -"You see?" said Carton, looking up, as he kneeled on one knee beside the -insensible figure, putting the paper in the breast: "is your hazard very -great?" - -"Mr. Carton," the Spy answered, with a timid snap of his fingers, "my -hazard is not _that_, in the thick of business here, if you are true to -the whole of your bargain." - -"Don't fear me. I will be true to the death." - -"You must be, Mr. Carton, if the tale of fifty-two is to be right. Being -made right by you in that dress, I shall have no fear." - -"Have no fear! I shall soon be out of the way of harming you, and the -rest will soon be far from here, please God! Now, get assistance and -take me to the coach." - -"You?" said the Spy nervously. - -"Him, man, with whom I have exchanged. You go out at the gate by which -you brought me in?" - -"Of course." - -"I was weak and faint when you brought me in, and I am fainter now you -take me out. The parting interview has overpowered me. Such a thing has -happened here, often, and too often. Your life is in your own hands. -Quick! Call assistance!" - -"You swear not to betray me?" said the trembling Spy, as he paused for a -last moment. - -"Man, man!" returned Carton, stamping his foot; "have I sworn by no -solemn vow already, to go through with this, that you waste the precious -moments now? Take him yourself to the courtyard you know of, place -him yourself in the carriage, show him yourself to Mr. Lorry, tell him -yourself to give him no restorative but air, and to remember my words of -last night, and his promise of last night, and drive away!" - -The Spy withdrew, and Carton seated himself at the table, resting his -forehead on his hands. The Spy returned immediately, with two men. - -"How, then?" said one of them, contemplating the fallen figure. "So -afflicted to find that his friend has drawn a prize in the lottery of -Sainte Guillotine?" - -"A good patriot," said the other, "could hardly have been more afflicted -if the Aristocrat had drawn a blank." - -They raised the unconscious figure, placed it on a litter they had -brought to the door, and bent to carry it away. - -"The time is short, Evremonde," said the Spy, in a warning voice. - -"I know it well," answered Carton. "Be careful of my friend, I entreat -you, and leave me." - -"Come, then, my children," said Barsad. "Lift him, and come away!" - -The door closed, and Carton was left alone. Straining his powers of -listening to the utmost, he listened for any sound that might denote -suspicion or alarm. There was none. Keys turned, doors clashed, -footsteps passed along distant passages: no cry was raised, or hurry -made, that seemed unusual. Breathing more freely in a little while, he -sat down at the table, and listened again until the clock struck Two. - -Sounds that he was not afraid of, for he divined their meaning, then -began to be audible. Several doors were opened in succession, and -finally his own. A gaoler, with a list in his hand, looked in, merely -saying, "Follow me, Evremonde!" and he followed into a large dark room, -at a distance. It was a dark winter day, and what with the shadows -within, and what with the shadows without, he could but dimly discern -the others who were brought there to have their arms bound. Some were -standing; some seated. Some were lamenting, and in restless motion; -but, these were few. The great majority were silent and still, looking -fixedly at the ground. - -As he stood by the wall in a dim corner, while some of the fifty-two -were brought in after him, one man stopped in passing, to embrace him, -as having a knowledge of him. It thrilled him with a great dread of -discovery; but the man went on. A very few moments after that, a young -woman, with a slight girlish form, a sweet spare face in which there was -no vestige of colour, and large widely opened patient eyes, rose from -the seat where he had observed her sitting, and came to speak to him. - -"Citizen Evremonde," she said, touching him with her cold hand. "I am a -poor little seamstress, who was with you in La Force." - -He murmured for answer: "True. I forget what you were accused of?" - -"Plots. Though the just Heaven knows that I am innocent of any. Is it -likely? Who would think of plotting with a poor little weak creature -like me?" - -The forlorn smile with which she said it, so touched him, that tears -started from his eyes. - -"I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evremonde, but I have done nothing. I -am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much good -to us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know how that can be, -Citizen Evremonde. Such a poor weak little creature!" - -As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften to, it -warmed and softened to this pitiable girl. - -"I heard you were released, Citizen Evremonde. I hoped it was true?" - -"It was. But, I was again taken and condemned." - -"If I may ride with you, Citizen Evremonde, will you let me hold your -hand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will give me -more courage." - -As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in -them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn young -fingers, and touched his lips. - -"Are you dying for him?" she whispered. - -"And his wife and child. Hush! Yes." - -"O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?" - -"Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last." - - ***** - -The same shadows that are falling on the prison, are falling, in that -same hour of the early afternoon, on the Barrier with the crowd about -it, when a coach going out of Paris drives up to be examined. - -"Who goes here? Whom have we within? Papers!" - -The papers are handed out, and read. - -"Alexandre Manette. Physician. French. Which is he?" - -This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmuring, wandering old man -pointed out. - -"Apparently the Citizen-Doctor is not in his right mind? The -Revolution-fever will have been too much for him?" - -Greatly too much for him. - -"Hah! Many suffer with it. Lucie. His daughter. French. Which is she?" - -This is she. - -"Apparently it must be. Lucie, the wife of Evremonde; is it not?" - -It is. - -"Hah! Evremonde has an assignation elsewhere. Lucie, her child. English. -This is she?" - -She and no other. - -"Kiss me, child of Evremonde. Now, thou hast kissed a good Republican; -something new in thy family; remember it! Sydney Carton. Advocate. -English. Which is he?" - -He lies here, in this corner of the carriage. He, too, is pointed out. - -"Apparently the English advocate is in a swoon?" - -It is hoped he will recover in the fresher air. It is represented that -he is not in strong health, and has separated sadly from a friend who is -under the displeasure of the Republic. - -"Is that all? It is not a great deal, that! Many are under the -displeasure of the Republic, and must look out at the little window. -Jarvis Lorry. Banker. English. Which is he?" - -"I am he. Necessarily, being the last." - -It is Jarvis Lorry who has replied to all the previous questions. It -is Jarvis Lorry who has alighted and stands with his hand on the coach -door, replying to a group of officials. They leisurely walk round the -carriage and leisurely mount the box, to look at what little luggage it -carries on the roof; the country-people hanging about, press nearer to -the coach doors and greedily stare in; a little child, carried by its -mother, has its short arm held out for it, that it may touch the wife of -an aristocrat who has gone to the Guillotine. - -"Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned." - -"One can depart, citizen?" - -"One can depart. Forward, my postilions! A good journey!" - -"I salute you, citizens.--And the first danger passed!" - -These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps his hands, and -looks upward. There is terror in the carriage, there is weeping, there -is the heavy breathing of the insensible traveller. - -"Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to go faster?" -asks Lucie, clinging to the old man. - -"It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them too much; -it would rouse suspicion." - -"Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued!" - -"The road is clear, my dearest. So far, we are not pursued." - -Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms, ruinous buildings, -dye-works, tanneries, and the like, open country, avenues of leafless -trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us, the soft deep mud is on -either side. Sometimes, we strike into the skirting mud, to avoid the -stones that clatter us and shake us; sometimes, we stick in ruts and -sloughs there. The agony of our impatience is then so great, that in our -wild alarm and hurry we are for getting out and running--hiding--doing -anything but stopping. - -Out of the open country, in again among ruinous buildings, solitary -farms, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, cottages in twos and threes, -avenues of leafless trees. Have these men deceived us, and taken us back -by another road? Is not this the same place twice over? Thank Heaven, -no. A village. Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued! Hush! -the posting-house. - -Leisurely, our four horses are taken out; leisurely, the coach stands in -the little street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihood upon it -of ever moving again; leisurely, the new horses come into visible -existence, one by one; leisurely, the new postilions follow, sucking and -plaiting the lashes of their whips; leisurely, the old postilions count -their money, make wrong additions, and arrive at dissatisfied results. -All the time, our overfraught hearts are beating at a rate that would -far outstrip the fastest gallop of the fastest horses ever foaled. - -At length the new postilions are in their saddles, and the old are left -behind. We are through the village, up the hill, and down the hill, and -on the low watery grounds. Suddenly, the postilions exchange speech with -animated gesticulation, and the horses are pulled up, almost on their -haunches. We are pursued? - -"Ho! Within the carriage there. Speak then!" - -"What is it?" asks Mr. Lorry, looking out at window. - -"How many did they say?" - -"I do not understand you." - -"--At the last post. How many to the Guillotine to-day?" - -"Fifty-two." - -"I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would have it -forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goes -handsomely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!" - -The night comes on dark. He moves more; he is beginning to revive, and -to speak intelligibly; he thinks they are still together; he asks him, -by his name, what he has in his hand. O pity us, kind Heaven, and help -us! Look out, look out, and see if we are pursued. - -The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and -the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of -us; but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else. - - - - -XIV. The Knitting Done - - -In that same juncture of time when the Fifty-Two awaited their fate -Madame Defarge held darkly ominous council with The Vengeance and -Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Not in the wine-shop did Madame -Defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, -erst a mender of roads. The sawyer himself did not participate in the -conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who -was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited. - -"But our Defarge," said Jacques Three, "is undoubtedly a good -Republican? Eh?" - -"There is no better," the voluble Vengeance protested in her shrill -notes, "in France." - -"Peace, little Vengeance," said Madame Defarge, laying her hand with -a slight frown on her lieutenant's lips, "hear me speak. My husband, -fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man; he has deserved -well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence. But my husband has -his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctor." - -"It is a great pity," croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking his head, -with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; "it is not quite like a good -citizen; it is a thing to regret." - -"See you," said madame, "I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He may wear -his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it is all one to -me. But, the Evremonde people are to be exterminated, and the wife and -child must follow the husband and father." - -"She has a fine head for it," croaked Jacques Three. "I have seen blue -eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when Samson held -them up." Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure. - -Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little. - -"The child also," observed Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment -of his words, "has golden hair and blue eyes. And we seldom have a child -there. It is a pretty sight!" - -"In a word," said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, -"I cannot trust my husband in this matter. Not only do I feel, since -last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my projects; -but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, -and then they might escape." - -"That must never be," croaked Jacques Three; "no one must escape. We -have not half enough as it is. We ought to have six score a day." - -"In a word," Madame Defarge went on, "my husband has not my reason for -pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not his reason for -regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act for myself, -therefore. Come hither, little citizen." - -The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the -submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap. - -"Touching those signals, little citizen," said Madame Defarge, sternly, -"that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them -this very day?" - -"Ay, ay, why not!" cried the sawyer. "Every day, in all weathers, from -two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes -without. I know what I know. I have seen with my eyes." - -He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidental -imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals that he had -never seen. - -"Clearly plots," said Jacques Three. "Transparently!" - -"There is no doubt of the Jury?" inquired Madame Defarge, letting her -eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile. - -"Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my -fellow-Jurymen." - -"Now, let me see," said Madame Defarge, pondering again. "Yet once more! -Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no feeling either way. Can -I spare him?" - -"He would count as one head," observed Jacques Three, in a low voice. -"We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, I think." - -"He was signalling with her when I saw her," argued Madame Defarge; "I -cannot speak of one without the other; and I must not be silent, and -trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here. For, I am not a -bad witness." - -The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their fervent -protestations that she was the most admirable and marvellous of -witnesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone, declared her to be a -celestial witness. - -"He must take his chance," said Madame Defarge. "No, I cannot spare -him! You are engaged at three o'clock; you are going to see the batch of -to-day executed.--You?" - -The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer, who hurriedly replied in -the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was the most ardent -of Republicans, and that he would be in effect the most desolate of -Republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the pleasure of -smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the droll national -barber. He was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have been -suspected (perhaps was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at -him out of Madame Defarge's head) of having his small individual fears -for his own personal safety, every hour in the day. - -"I," said madame, "am equally engaged at the same place. After it is -over--say at eight to-night--come you to me, in Saint Antoine, and we -will give information against these people at my Section." - -The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the -citizeness. The citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, evaded -her glance as a small dog would have done, retreated among his wood, and -hid his confusion over the handle of his saw. - -Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance a little nearer to -the door, and there expounded her further views to them thus: - -"She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death. She will -be mourning and grieving. She will be in a state of mind to impeach the -justice of the Republic. She will be full of sympathy with its enemies. -I will go to her." - -"What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!" exclaimed Jacques -Three, rapturously. "Ah, my cherished!" cried The Vengeance; and -embraced her. - -"Take you my knitting," said Madame Defarge, placing it in her -lieutenant's hands, "and have it ready for me in my usual seat. Keep -me my usual chair. Go you there, straight, for there will probably be a -greater concourse than usual, to-day." - -"I willingly obey the orders of my Chief," said The Vengeance with -alacrity, and kissing her cheek. "You will not be late?" - -"I shall be there before the commencement." - -"And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, my soul," said -The Vengeance, calling after her, for she had already turned into the -street, "before the tumbrils arrive!" - -Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard, and -might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and so went through the -mud, and round the corner of the prison wall. The Vengeance and the -Juryman, looking after her as she walked away, were highly appreciative -of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments. - -There were many women at that time, upon whom the time laid a dreadfully -disfiguring hand; but, there was not one among them more to be dreaded -than this ruthless woman, now taking her way along the streets. Of a -strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness, of great -determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to impart -to its possessor firmness and animosity, but to strike into others an -instinctive recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would have -heaved her up, under any circumstances. But, imbued from her childhood -with a brooding sense of wrong, and an inveterate hatred of a class, -opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was absolutely without -pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it had quite gone out of -her. - -It was nothing to her, that an innocent man was to die for the sins of -his forefathers; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that -his wife was to be made a widow and his daughter an orphan; that was -insufficient punishment, because they were her natural enemies and -her prey, and as such had no right to live. To appeal to her, was made -hopeless by her having no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had -been laid low in the streets, in any of the many encounters in which -she had been engaged, she would not have pitied herself; nor, if she had -been ordered to the axe to-morrow, would she have gone to it with any -softer feeling than a fierce desire to change places with the man who -sent her there. - -Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe. Carelessly -worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain weird way, and her -dark hair looked rich under her coarse red cap. Lying hidden in her -bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden at her waist, was a sharpened -dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such -a character, and with the supple freedom of a woman who had habitually -walked in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown -sea-sand, Madame Defarge took her way along the streets. - -Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment -waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night, -the difficulty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry's -attention. It was not merely desirable to avoid overloading the coach, -but it was of the highest importance that the time occupied in examining -it and its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their -escape might depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. -Finally, he had proposed, after anxious consideration, that Miss Pross -and Jerry, who were at liberty to leave the city, should leave it at -three o'clock in the lightest-wheeled conveyance known to that period. -Unencumbered with luggage, they would soon overtake the coach, and, -passing it and preceding it on the road, would order its horses in -advance, and greatly facilitate its progress during the precious hours -of the night, when delay was the most to be dreaded. - -Seeing in this arrangement the hope of rendering real service in that -pressing emergency, Miss Pross hailed it with joy. She and Jerry had -beheld the coach start, had known who it was that Solomon brought, had -passed some ten minutes in tortures of suspense, and were now concluding -their arrangements to follow the coach, even as Madame Defarge, -taking her way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the -else-deserted lodging in which they held their consultation. - -"Now what do you think, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, whose agitation -was so great that she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live: -"what do you think of our not starting from this courtyard? Another -carriage having already gone from here to-day, it might awaken -suspicion." - -"My opinion, miss," returned Mr. Cruncher, "is as you're right. Likewise -wot I'll stand by you, right or wrong." - -"I am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures," said -Miss Pross, wildly crying, "that I am incapable of forming any plan. Are -_you_ capable of forming any plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?" - -"Respectin' a future spear o' life, miss," returned Mr. Cruncher, "I -hope so. Respectin' any present use o' this here blessed old head o' -mine, I think not. Would you do me the favour, miss, to take notice o' -two promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here -crisis?" - -"Oh, for gracious sake!" cried Miss Pross, still wildly crying, "record -them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent man." - -"First," said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with -an ashy and solemn visage, "them poor things well out o' this, never no -more will I do it, never no more!" - -"I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher," returned Miss Pross, "that you -never will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it -necessary to mention more particularly what it is." - -"No, miss," returned Jerry, "it shall not be named to you. Second: them -poor things well out o' this, and never no more will I interfere with -Mrs. Cruncher's flopping, never no more!" - -"Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be," said Miss Pross, -striving to dry her eyes and compose herself, "I have no doubt it -is best that Mrs. Cruncher should have it entirely under her own -superintendence.--O my poor darlings!" - -"I go so far as to say, miss, moreover," proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with a -most alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit--"and let my words -be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher through yourself--that wot my -opinions respectin' flopping has undergone a change, and that wot I only -hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at the present -time." - -"There, there, there! I hope she is, my dear man," cried the distracted -Miss Pross, "and I hope she finds it answering her expectations." - -"Forbid it," proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with additional solemnity, -additional slowness, and additional tendency to hold forth and hold -out, "as anything wot I have ever said or done should be wisited on my -earnest wishes for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we shouldn't all -flop (if it was anyways conwenient) to get 'em out o' this here dismal -risk! Forbid it, miss! Wot I say, for-_bid_ it!" This was Mr. Cruncher's -conclusion after a protracted but vain endeavour to find a better one. - -And still Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came -nearer and nearer. - -"If we ever get back to our native land," said Miss Pross, "you may rely -upon my telling Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remember and -understand of what you have so impressively said; and at all events -you may be sure that I shall bear witness to your being thoroughly in -earnest at this dreadful time. Now, pray let us think! My esteemed Mr. -Cruncher, let us think!" - -Still, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer -and nearer. - -"If you were to go before," said Miss Pross, "and stop the vehicle and -horses from coming here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn't -that be best?" - -Mr. Cruncher thought it might be best. - -"Where could you wait for me?" asked Miss Pross. - -Mr. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but -Temple Bar. Alas! Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame -Defarge was drawing very near indeed. - -"By the cathedral door," said Miss Pross. "Would it be much out of -the way, to take me in, near the great cathedral door between the two -towers?" - -"No, miss," answered Mr. Cruncher. - -"Then, like the best of men," said Miss Pross, "go to the posting-house -straight, and make that change." - -"I am doubtful," said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating and shaking his head, -"about leaving of you, you see. We don't know what may happen." - -"Heaven knows we don't," returned Miss Pross, "but have no fear for me. -Take me in at the cathedral, at Three o'Clock, or as near it as you can, -and I am sure it will be better than our going from here. I feel certain -of it. There! Bless you, Mr. Cruncher! Think-not of me, but of the lives -that may depend on both of us!" - -This exordium, and Miss Pross's two hands in quite agonised entreaty -clasping his, decided Mr. Cruncher. With an encouraging nod or two, he -immediately went out to alter the arrangements, and left her by herself -to follow as she had proposed. - -The having originated a precaution which was already in course of -execution, was a great relief to Miss Pross. The necessity of composing -her appearance so that it should attract no special notice in the -streets, was another relief. She looked at her watch, and it was twenty -minutes past two. She had no time to lose, but must get ready at once. - -Afraid, in her extreme perturbation, of the loneliness of the deserted -rooms, and of half-imagined faces peeping from behind every open door -in them, Miss Pross got a basin of cold water and began laving her eyes, -which were swollen and red. Haunted by her feverish apprehensions, she -could not bear to have her sight obscured for a minute at a time by the -dripping water, but constantly paused and looked round to see that there -was no one watching her. In one of those pauses she recoiled and cried -out, for she saw a figure standing in the room. - -The basin fell to the ground broken, and the water flowed to the feet of -Madame Defarge. By strange stern ways, and through much staining blood, -those feet had come to meet that water. - -Madame Defarge looked coldly at her, and said, "The wife of Evremonde; -where is she?" - -It flashed upon Miss Pross's mind that the doors were all standing open, -and would suggest the flight. Her first act was to shut them. There were -four in the room, and she shut them all. She then placed herself before -the door of the chamber which Lucie had occupied. - -Madame Defarge's dark eyes followed her through this rapid movement, -and rested on her when it was finished. Miss Pross had nothing beautiful -about her; years had not tamed the wildness, or softened the grimness, -of her appearance; but, she too was a determined woman in her different -way, and she measured Madame Defarge with her eyes, every inch. - -"You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer," said Miss -Pross, in her breathing. "Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of -me. I am an Englishwoman." - -Madame Defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something of -Miss Pross's own perception that they two were at bay. She saw a tight, -hard, wiry woman before her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in the same figure a -woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by. She knew full well that -Miss Pross was the family's devoted friend; Miss Pross knew full well -that Madame Defarge was the family's malevolent enemy. - -"On my way yonder," said Madame Defarge, with a slight movement of -her hand towards the fatal spot, "where they reserve my chair and my -knitting for me, I am come to make my compliments to her in passing. I -wish to see her." - -"I know that your intentions are evil," said Miss Pross, "and you may -depend upon it, I'll hold my own against them." - -Each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other's words; -both were very watchful, and intent to deduce from look and manner, what -the unintelligible words meant. - -"It will do her no good to keep herself concealed from me at this -moment," said Madame Defarge. "Good patriots will know what that means. -Let me see her. Go tell her that I wish to see her. Do you hear?" - -"If those eyes of yours were bed-winches," returned Miss Pross, "and I -was an English four-poster, they shouldn't loose a splinter of me. No, -you wicked foreign woman; I am your match." - -Madame Defarge was not likely to follow these idiomatic remarks in -detail; but, she so far understood them as to perceive that she was set -at naught. - -"Woman imbecile and pig-like!" said Madame Defarge, frowning. "I take no -answer from you. I demand to see her. Either tell her that I demand -to see her, or stand out of the way of the door and let me go to her!" -This, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm. - -"I little thought," said Miss Pross, "that I should ever want to -understand your nonsensical language; but I would give all I have, -except the clothes I wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any -part of it." - -Neither of them for a single moment released the other's eyes. Madame -Defarge had not moved from the spot where she stood when Miss Pross -first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step. - -"I am a Briton," said Miss Pross, "I am desperate. I don't care an -English Twopence for myself. I know that the longer I keep you here, the -greater hope there is for my Ladybird. I'll not leave a handful of that -dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger on me!" - -Thus Miss Pross, with a shake of her head and a flash of her eyes -between every rapid sentence, and every rapid sentence a whole breath. -Thus Miss Pross, who had never struck a blow in her life. - -But, her courage was of that emotional nature that it brought the -irrepressible tears into her eyes. This was a courage that Madame -Defarge so little comprehended as to mistake for weakness. "Ha, ha!" she -laughed, "you poor wretch! What are you worth! I address myself to that -Doctor." Then she raised her voice and called out, "Citizen Doctor! Wife -of Evremonde! Child of Evremonde! Any person but this miserable fool, -answer the Citizeness Defarge!" - -Perhaps the following silence, perhaps some latent disclosure in the -expression of Miss Pross's face, perhaps a sudden misgiving apart from -either suggestion, whispered to Madame Defarge that they were gone. -Three of the doors she opened swiftly, and looked in. - -"Those rooms are all in disorder, there has been hurried packing, there -are odds and ends upon the ground. There is no one in that room behind -you! Let me look." - -"Never!" said Miss Pross, who understood the request as perfectly as -Madame Defarge understood the answer. - -"If they are not in that room, they are gone, and can be pursued and -brought back," said Madame Defarge to herself. - -"As long as you don't know whether they are in that room or not, you are -uncertain what to do," said Miss Pross to herself; "and you shall not -know that, if I can prevent your knowing it; and know that, or not know -that, you shall not leave here while I can hold you." - -"I have been in the streets from the first, nothing has stopped me, -I will tear you to pieces, but I will have you from that door," said -Madame Defarge. - -"We are alone at the top of a high house in a solitary courtyard, we are -not likely to be heard, and I pray for bodily strength to keep you here, -while every minute you are here is worth a hundred thousand guineas to -my darling," said Miss Pross. - -Madame Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross, on the instinct of the -moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and held her tight. -It was in vain for Madame Defarge to struggle and to strike; Miss Pross, -with the vigorous tenacity of love, always so much stronger than hate, -clasped her tight, and even lifted her from the floor in the struggle -that they had. The two hands of Madame Defarge buffeted and tore her -face; but, Miss Pross, with her head down, held her round the waist, and -clung to her with more than the hold of a drowning woman. - -Soon, Madame Defarge's hands ceased to strike, and felt at her encircled -waist. "It is under my arm," said Miss Pross, in smothered tones, "you -shall not draw it. I am stronger than you, I bless Heaven for it. I hold -you till one or other of us faints or dies!" - -Madame Defarge's hands were at her bosom. Miss Pross looked up, saw -what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and stood -alone--blinded with smoke. - -All this was in a second. As the smoke cleared, leaving an awful -stillness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious woman -whose body lay lifeless on the ground. - -In the first fright and horror of her situation, Miss Pross passed the -body as far from it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for -fruitless help. Happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of -what she did, in time to check herself and go back. It was dreadful to -go in at the door again; but, she did go in, and even went near it, to -get the bonnet and other things that she must wear. These she put on, -out on the staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking -away the key. She then sat down on the stairs a few moments to breathe -and to cry, and then got up and hurried away. - -By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have -gone along the streets without being stopped. By good fortune, too, she -was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to show disfigurement -like any other woman. She needed both advantages, for the marks of -gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her -dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a -hundred ways. - -In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. Arriving -at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there, -she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, what if -it were identified, what if the door were opened and the remains -discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and -charged with murder! In the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the -escort appeared, took her in, and took her away. - -"Is there any noise in the streets?" she asked him. - -"The usual noises," Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the -question and by her aspect. - -"I don't hear you," said Miss Pross. "What do you say?" - -It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss Pross could -not hear him. "So I'll nod my head," thought Mr. Cruncher, amazed, "at -all events she'll see that." And she did. - -"Is there any noise in the streets now?" asked Miss Pross again, -presently. - -Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head. - -"I don't hear it." - -"Gone deaf in an hour?" said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind -much disturbed; "wot's come to her?" - -"I feel," said Miss Pross, "as if there had been a flash and a crash, -and that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in this life." - -"Blest if she ain't in a queer condition!" said Mr. Cruncher, more and -more disturbed. "Wot can she have been a takin', to keep her courage up? -Hark! There's the roll of them dreadful carts! You can hear that, miss?" - -"I can hear," said Miss Pross, seeing that he spoke to her, "nothing. O, -my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness, -and that stillness seems to be fixed and unchangeable, never to be -broken any more as long as my life lasts." - -"If she don't hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their -journey's end," said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, "it's my -opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world." - -And indeed she never did. - - - - -XV. The Footsteps Die Out For Ever - - -Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six -tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and -insatiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, -are fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in -France, with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, -a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under -conditions more certain than those that have produced this horror. Crush -humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will -twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of -rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield -the same fruit according to its kind. - -Six tumbrils roll along the streets. Change these back again to what -they were, thou powerful enchanter, Time, and they shall be seen to be -the carriages of absolute monarchs, the equipages of feudal nobles, the -toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father's -house but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants! -No; the great magician who majestically works out the appointed order -of the Creator, never reverses his transformations. "If thou be changed -into this shape by the will of God," say the seers to the enchanted, in -the wise Arabian stories, "then remain so! But, if thou wear this -form through mere passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!" -Changeless and hopeless, the tumbrils roll along. - -As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough up -a long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of faces -are thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward. -So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle, that -in many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation of the -hands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the faces in -the tumbrils. Here and there, the inmate has visitors to see the sight; -then he points his finger, with something of the complacency of a -curator or authorised exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to -tell who sat here yesterday, and who there the day before. - -Of the riders in the tumbrils, some observe these things, and all -things on their last roadside, with an impassive stare; others, with -a lingering interest in the ways of life and men. Some, seated with -drooping heads, are sunk in silent despair; again, there are some so -heedful of their looks that they cast upon the multitude such glances as -they have seen in theatres, and in pictures. Several close their eyes, -and think, or try to get their straying thoughts together. Only one, and -he a miserable creature, of a crazed aspect, is so shattered and made -drunk by horror, that he sings, and tries to dance. Not one of the whole -number appeals by look or gesture, to the pity of the people. - -There is a guard of sundry horsemen riding abreast of the tumbrils, -and faces are often turned up to some of them, and they are asked some -question. It would seem to be always the same question, for, it is -always followed by a press of people towards the third cart. The -horsemen abreast of that cart, frequently point out one man in it with -their swords. The leading curiosity is, to know which is he; he stands -at the back of the tumbril with his head bent down, to converse with a -mere girl who sits on the side of the cart, and holds his hand. He has -no curiosity or care for the scene about him, and always speaks to the -girl. Here and there in the long street of St. Honore, cries are raised -against him. If they move him at all, it is only to a quiet smile, as he -shakes his hair a little more loosely about his face. He cannot easily -touch his face, his arms being bound. - -On the steps of a church, awaiting the coming-up of the tumbrils, stands -the Spy and prison-sheep. He looks into the first of them: not there. -He looks into the second: not there. He already asks himself, "Has he -sacrificed me?" when his face clears, as he looks into the third. - -"Which is Evremonde?" says a man behind him. - -"That. At the back there." - -"With his hand in the girl's?" - -"Yes." - -The man cries, "Down, Evremonde! To the Guillotine all aristocrats! -Down, Evremonde!" - -"Hush, hush!" the Spy entreats him, timidly. - -"And why not, citizen?" - -"He is going to pay the forfeit: it will be paid in five minutes more. -Let him be at peace." - -But the man continuing to exclaim, "Down, Evremonde!" the face of -Evremonde is for a moment turned towards him. Evremonde then sees the -Spy, and looks attentively at him, and goes his way. - -The clocks are on the stroke of three, and the furrow ploughed among the -populace is turning round, to come on into the place of execution, and -end. The ridges thrown to this side and to that, now crumble in and -close behind the last plough as it passes on, for all are following -to the Guillotine. In front of it, seated in chairs, as in a garden of -public diversion, are a number of women, busily knitting. On one of the -fore-most chairs, stands The Vengeance, looking about for her friend. - -"Therese!" she cries, in her shrill tones. "Who has seen her? Therese -Defarge!" - -"She never missed before," says a knitting-woman of the sisterhood. - -"No; nor will she miss now," cries The Vengeance, petulantly. "Therese." - -"Louder," the woman recommends. - -Ay! Louder, Vengeance, much louder, and still she will scarcely hear -thee. Louder yet, Vengeance, with a little oath or so added, and yet -it will hardly bring her. Send other women up and down to seek her, -lingering somewhere; and yet, although the messengers have done dread -deeds, it is questionable whether of their own wills they will go far -enough to find her! - -"Bad Fortune!" cries The Vengeance, stamping her foot in the chair, "and -here are the tumbrils! And Evremonde will be despatched in a wink, and -she not here! See her knitting in my hand, and her empty chair ready for -her. I cry with vexation and disappointment!" - -As The Vengeance descends from her elevation to do it, the tumbrils -begin to discharge their loads. The ministers of Sainte Guillotine are -robed and ready. Crash!--A head is held up, and the knitting-women who -scarcely lifted their eyes to look at it a moment ago when it could -think and speak, count One. - -The second tumbril empties and moves on; the third comes up. Crash!--And -the knitting-women, never faltering or pausing in their Work, count Two. - -The supposed Evremonde descends, and the seamstress is lifted out next -after him. He has not relinquished her patient hand in getting out, but -still holds it as he promised. He gently places her with her back to the -crashing engine that constantly whirrs up and falls, and she looks into -his face and thanks him. - -"But for you, dear stranger, I should not be so composed, for I am -naturally a poor little thing, faint of heart; nor should I have been -able to raise my thoughts to Him who was put to death, that we might -have hope and comfort here to-day. I think you were sent to me by -Heaven." - -"Or you to me," says Sydney Carton. "Keep your eyes upon me, dear child, -and mind no other object." - -"I mind nothing while I hold your hand. I shall mind nothing when I let -it go, if they are rapid." - -"They will be rapid. Fear not!" - -The two stand in the fast-thinning throng of victims, but they speak as -if they were alone. Eye to eye, voice to voice, hand to hand, heart to -heart, these two children of the Universal Mother, else so wide apart -and differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair home -together, and to rest in her bosom. - -"Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? I -am very ignorant, and it troubles me--just a little." - -"Tell me what it is." - -"I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I -love very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in a -farmer's house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she knows -nothing of my fate--for I cannot write--and if I could, how should I -tell her! It is better as it is." - -"Yes, yes: better as it is." - -"What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still -thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so -much support, is this:--If the Republic really does good to the poor, -and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may -live a long time: she may even live to be old." - -"What then, my gentle sister?" - -"Do you think:" the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much -endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: -"that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land -where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?" - -"It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble there." - -"You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now? Is the -moment come?" - -"Yes." - -She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. -The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than -a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before -him--is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two. - -"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." - -The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing -on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells -forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. -Twenty-Three. - - ***** - -They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the -peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked -sublime and prophetic. - -One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe--a woman--had asked -at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to -write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given any -utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these: - -"I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, -long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of -the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease -out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people -rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in -their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil -of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural -birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. - -"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, -prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see -Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, -aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his -healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their -friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing -tranquilly to his reward. - -"I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of -their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping -for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their -course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know -that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, -than I was in the souls of both. - -"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man -winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him -winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the -light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, -fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, -with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place--then fair to -look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement--and I hear him -tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice. - -"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a -far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." - - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF TWO CITIES *** - -***** This file should be named 98.txt or 98.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/9/98/ - -Produced by Judith Boss - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Press a key. You should see -# the line seem to fall down the screen. Press a second key to quit. -# https://archive.org/details/akkartik-2min-2020-07-01 - -fn main -> exit-status/ebx: int { - clear-screen 0 - move-cursor 0, 5, 5 - print-string 0, "_________" - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var dummy/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - var row/eax: int <- copy 5 - { - compare row, 0xe # 15 - break-if-= - animate row - row <- increment - sleep 0 0x5f5e100 # 100ms - loop - } - var dummy/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - enable-keyboard-type-mode - clear-screen 0 - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn animate row: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy 5 - { - compare col, 0xe - break-if-= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, " " - increment row - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "_" - decrement row - col <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/10.mu b/prototypes/tile/10.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 6f971b1c..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/10.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,341 +0,0 @@ -# Moving around within a tree and creating children. -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/10.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# Press 'c' to create new children for the root node, and keys to move: -# 'h': parent -# 'l': first child -# 'j': next sibling -# 'k': prev sibling - -# To run unit tests: -# $ ./a.elf test -fn main args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var tmp/ecx: int <- length args - $main-body: { - # if (len(args) > 1 && args[1] == "test") run-tests() - compare tmp, 1 - { - break-if-<= - # if (args[1] == "test") run-tests() - var tmp2/ecx: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - var tmp3/eax: boolean <- string-equal? *tmp2, "test" - compare tmp3, 0 - { - break-if-= - run-tests - exit-status <- copy 0 # TODO: get at Num-test-failures somehow - } - break $main-body - } - # otherwise operate interactively - exit-status <- interactive - } -} - -# - interactive loop - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn interactive -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor-handle: (handle cell) - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- address cursor-handle - copy-handle root-handle, cursor - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var _root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - var root-addr/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy _root-addr - var cursor-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor - render root-addr, cursor-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - var _root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup root-handle - root-addr <- copy _root-addr - var cursor-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor - render root-addr, cursor-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { -$process:body: { - # if c == 'h' move cursor to its parent if possible - { - compare c, 0x68 # 'h' - break-if-!= - move-to-parent cursor - } - # if c == 'l' move cursor to its first child if possible - { - compare c, 0x6c # 'l' - break-if-!= - move-to-child cursor - } - # if c == 'j' move cursor to its next sibling if possible - { - compare c, 0x6a # 'j' - break-if-!= - move-to-next-sibling cursor - } - # if c == 'k' move cursor to its prev sibling if possible - { - compare c, 0x6b # 'k' - break-if-!= - move-to-prev-sibling cursor - } - # if c == 'c' create a new child at the cursor - { - compare c, 0x63 # 'c' - break-if-!= - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - create-child *cursor2 - } -} -} - -fn move-to-parent cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var parent/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, parent - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *parent - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *parent, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-child cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, first-child - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *child, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-next-sibling cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var sib/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, next-sibling - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *sib, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-prev-sibling cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var sib/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, prev-sibling - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *sib, cursor - } -} - -fn create-child node: (handle cell) { - var n/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup node - var child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - var prev/edx: (addr handle cell) <- copy 0 - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - prev <- copy child - child <- get tmp, next-sibling - loop - } - allocate child - var child2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - var dest/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get child2, prev-sibling - # child->prev-sibling = prev - { - compare prev, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *prev, dest - } - # child->parent = node - dest <- get child2, parent - copy-handle node, dest -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell), cursor: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x65 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x65, cursor -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int, cursor: (addr cell) { -$render-tree:body: { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - var c2/edx: (addr cell) <- copy c - { - compare c2, cursor - break-if-!= - draw-hatching row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - } - # if single child, render it (slightly shorter than the parent) - var nchild/eax: int <- num-children c - { - compare nchild, 1 - break-if-> - var child/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max, cursor - } - break $render-tree:body - } - # otherwise divide vertical space up equally among children - var column-height/ebx: int <- copy row-max - column-height <- subtract row-min - var child-height/eax: int <- try-divide column-height, nchild - var child-height2/ebx: int <- copy child-height - var curr/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var curr-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *curr - var rmin/esi: int <- copy row-min - var rmax/edi: int <- copy row-min - rmax <- add child-height2 - { - compare curr-addr, 0 - break-if-= - render-tree curr-addr, column-width, rmin, root-max, rmax, col-max, cursor - curr <- get curr-addr, next-sibling - curr-addr <- lookup *curr - rmin <- add child-height2 - rmax <- add child-height2 - loop - } -} -} - -fn num-children node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - tmp-result <- increment - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-hatching row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - var c/eax: int <- copy col1 - var r1/ecx: int <- copy row1 - r1 <- increment - c <- add 2 - { - compare c, col2 - break-if->= - draw-vertical-line r1, row2, c - c <- add 2 - loop - } -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/11.mu b/prototypes/tile/11.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 82de9fda..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/11.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,353 +0,0 @@ -# Moving around within a tree and creating children. -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/10.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# Press 'c' to create new children for the root node, and keys to move: -# 'h': parent -# 'l': first child -# 'j': next sibling -# 'k': prev sibling - -# To run unit tests: -# $ ./a.elf test -fn main args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var tmp/ecx: int <- length args - $main-body: { - # if (len(args) > 1 && args[1] == "test") run-tests() - compare tmp, 1 - { - break-if-<= - # if (args[1] == "test") run-tests() - var tmp2/ecx: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - var tmp3/eax: boolean <- string-equal? *tmp2, "test" - compare tmp3, 0 - { - break-if-= - run-tests - exit-status <- copy 0 # TODO: get at Num-test-failures somehow - } - break $main-body - } - # otherwise operate interactively - exit-status <- interactive - } -} - -# - interactive loop - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn interactive -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor-handle: (handle cell) - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- address cursor-handle - copy-handle root-handle, cursor - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var _root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - var root-addr/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy _root-addr - var cursor-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor - render root-addr, cursor-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - var _root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup root-handle - var root-addr/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy _root-addr - var cursor-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor - render root-addr, cursor-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { -$process:body: { - # if c == 'h' move cursor to its parent if possible - { - compare c, 0x68 # 'h' - break-if-!= - move-to-parent cursor - } - # if c == 'l' move cursor to its first child if possible - { - compare c, 0x6c # 'l' - break-if-!= - move-to-child cursor - } - # if c == 'j' move cursor to its next sibling if possible - { - compare c, 0x6a # 'j' - break-if-!= - move-to-next-sibling cursor - } - # if c == 'k' move cursor to its prev sibling if possible - { - compare c, 0x6b # 'k' - break-if-!= - move-to-prev-sibling cursor - } - # if c == 'c' create a new child at the cursor - { - compare c, 0x63 # 'c' - break-if-!= - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - create-child *cursor2 - } -} -} - -fn move-to-parent cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var parent/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, parent - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *parent - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *parent, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-child cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, first-child - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *child, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-next-sibling cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var sib/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, next-sibling - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *sib, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-prev-sibling cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var sib/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, prev-sibling - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *sib, cursor - } -} - -fn create-child node: (handle cell) { - var n/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup node - var child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - var prev/edx: (addr handle cell) <- copy 0 - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - prev <- copy child - child <- get tmp, next-sibling - loop - } - allocate child - var child2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - var dest/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get child2, prev-sibling - # child->prev-sibling = prev - { - compare prev, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *prev, dest - } - # child->parent = node - dest <- get child2, parent - copy-handle node, dest -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell), cursor: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x65 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x65, cursor -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int, cursor: (addr cell) { -$render-tree:body: { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - move-cursor 0, row-min, col-min - var top-left/eax: code-point <- copy 0x250c - print-code-point 0, top-left - move-cursor 0, row-min, root-max - var top-right/eax: code-point <- copy 0x2510 - print-code-point 0, top-right - move-cursor 0, row-max, col-min - var bot-left/eax: code-point <- copy 0x2514 - print-code-point 0, bot-left - move-cursor 0, row-max, root-max - var bot-right/eax: code-point <- copy 0x2518 - print-code-point 0, bot-right - var c2/edx: (addr cell) <- copy c - { - compare c2, cursor - break-if-!= - draw-hatching row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - } - # if single child, render it (slightly shorter than the parent) - var nchild/eax: int <- num-children c - { - compare nchild, 1 - break-if-> - var child/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max, cursor - } - break $render-tree:body - } - # otherwise divide vertical space up equally among children - var column-height/ebx: int <- copy row-max - column-height <- subtract row-min - var child-height/eax: int <- try-divide column-height, nchild - var child-height2/ebx: int <- copy child-height - var curr/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var curr-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *curr - var rmin/esi: int <- copy row-min - var rmax/edi: int <- copy row-min - rmax <- add child-height2 - { - compare curr-addr, 0 - break-if-= - render-tree curr-addr, column-width, rmin, root-max, rmax, col-max, cursor - curr <- get curr-addr, next-sibling - curr-addr <- lookup *curr - rmin <- add child-height2 - rmax <- add child-height2 - loop - } -} -} - -fn num-children node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - tmp-result <- increment - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-hatching row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - var c/eax: int <- copy col1 - var r1/ecx: int <- copy row1 - r1 <- increment - c <- add 2 - { - compare c, col2 - break-if->= - draw-vertical-line r1, row2, c - c <- add 2 - loop - } -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-code-point 0, 0x2500 - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-code-point 0, 0x2502 - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/2.mu b/prototypes/tile/2.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 6339d61e..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/2.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,84 +0,0 @@ -# load test: animate a whole lot of text -# -# Requires a large file called "x" containing just ascii characters. One way -# to generate it: -# cat /dev/urandom |base64 - |head -n 1000 > x -# then merge pairs of lines. -# -# This prototype assumes it's in a window 185 characters wide. - -fn main -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var num-lines/ecx: int <- copy 0x10 - clear-screen 0 - # open a file - var f: (addr buffered-file) - { - var f-handle: (handle buffered-file) - var f-in/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address f-handle - open "x", 0, f-in # for reading - var f-out/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup f-handle - copy-to f, f-out - } - # main loop - var row/eax: int <- copy 1 - { - compare row, 0x10 # 16 - break-if-> - render f, row, num-lines - row <- increment -#? sleep 0 0x5f5e100 # 100ms - loop - } - # wait for a key - { - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var dummy/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - enable-keyboard-type-mode - } - # clean up - clear-screen 0 - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render f: (addr buffered-file), start-row: int, num-rows: int { - var num-cols/ecx: int <- copy 0xb9 # 185 - # if necessary, clear the row above -$render:clear-loop: { - compare start-row, 1 - break-if-<= - decrement start-row - var col/eax: int <- copy 1 - move-cursor 0, start-row, col - { - compare col, num-cols - break-if-> - print-string 0, " " - col <- increment - loop - } - increment start-row - } - # render rest of screen below - var row/edx: int <- copy start-row - var col/ebx: int <- copy 1 - move-cursor 0, row, col -$render:render-loop: { - compare row, num-rows - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered f - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - row <- increment - col <- copy 0 - move-cursor 0, row, col - loop $render:render-loop - } - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/3.mu b/prototypes/tile/3.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 94c9cc8c..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/3.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,76 +0,0 @@ -# benchmark: how fast can we print characters to screen? -# -# Requires a large file called "x" containing just ascii characters. One way -# to generate it: -# cat /dev/urandom |base64 - |head -n 10000 > x -# then merge pairs of lines. - -fn main -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var num-lines/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # 100 - clear-screen 0 - # open a file - var f: (addr buffered-file) - { - var f-handle: (handle buffered-file) - var f-in/eax: (addr handle buffered-file) <- address f-handle - open "x", 0, f-in # for reading - var f-out/eax: (addr buffered-file) <- lookup f-handle - copy-to f, f-out - } - # initial time - var t1_/eax: int <- time - var t1/edx: int <- copy t1_ - # main loop - var iter/eax: int <- copy 1 - { - compare iter, 0x640 # 1600 - break-if-> - render f, num-lines - iter <- increment - loop - } - # final time - var t2_/eax: int <- time - var t2/ebx: int <- copy t2_ - # time taken - var t3/esi: int <- copy t2 - t3 <- subtract t1 - # clean up - clear-screen 0 - # results - print-int32-hex 0, t1 - print-string 0, "\n" - print-int32-hex 0, t2 - print-string 0, "\n" - print-int32-hex 0, t3 - print-string 0, "\n" - # - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn render f: (addr buffered-file), num-rows: int { - var num-cols/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # 100 - # render screen - var row/edx: int <- copy 1 - var col/ebx: int <- copy 1 - move-cursor 0, row, col -$render:render-loop: { - compare row, num-rows - break-if->= - var c/eax: byte <- read-byte-buffered f - compare c, 0xffffffff # EOF marker - break-if-= - compare c, 0xa # newline - { - break-if-!= - row <- increment - col <- copy 0 - move-cursor 0, row, col - loop $render:render-loop - } - var g/eax: grapheme <- copy c - print-grapheme 0, g - col <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/4.mu b/prototypes/tile/4.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 6e2a57b7..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/4.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,56 +0,0 @@ -# animate a large box -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/4.mu -# $ ./a.elf - -fn main -> exit-status/ebx: int { - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var dummy/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - draw-box 5, 5, 0x23, 0x23 # 35, 35 - sleep 0 0x5f5e100 # 100ms - sleep 0 0x5f5e100 # 100ms - draw-box 5, 5, 0x23, 0x69 # 35, 105 - sleep 0 0x5f5e100 # 100ms - sleep 0 0x5f5e100 # 100ms - draw-box 5, 5, 0x23, 0xaf # 35, 175 - var dummy/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - enable-keyboard-type-mode - clear-screen 0 - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - clear-screen 0 - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/5.mu b/prototypes/tile/5.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 58d94636..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/5.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,145 +0,0 @@ -# rendering a tree with a single child -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/5.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# You should see a single rectangle representing a singleton tree node. -# Press a key. You should see the tree grow a single child. -# It seems useful as a visual idiom to represent nodes with a single child as -# slightly larger than the child. -# Once we get to multiple children we'll start tiling more regularly. - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn main -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- copy root - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - render root-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - root-addr <- lookup root-handle - render root-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var c1/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *c1 - create-child c2 -} - -fn create-child node: (addr cell) { - var n/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy node - var first-child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - allocate first-child -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x64 -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- copy c - var child/eax: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max - } -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/6.mu b/prototypes/tile/6.mu deleted file mode 100644 index be95dead..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/6.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,184 +0,0 @@ -# rendering trees of arbitrary depth, with each node having a single child -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/6.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# Every time you press a key, a deeper tree is rendered. Press ctrl-c to exit. -# It seems useful as a visual idiom to represent nodes with a single child as -# slightly larger than the child. -# Once we get to multiple children we'll start tiling more regularly. - -# We also have tests now: -# $ ./a.elf test -fn main args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var tmp/ecx: int <- length args - $main-body: { - # if (len(args) > 1 && args[1] == "test") run-tests() - compare tmp, 1 - { - break-if-<= - # if (args[1] == "test") run-tests() - var tmp2/ecx: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - var tmp3/eax: boolean <- string-equal? *tmp2, "test" - compare tmp3, 0 - { - break-if-= - run-tests - exit-status <- copy 0 # TODO: get at Num-test-failures somehow - } - break $main-body - } - # otherwise operate interactively - exit-status <- interactive - } -} - -# - interactive loop - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn interactive -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- copy root - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - render root-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - root-addr <- lookup root-handle - render root-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { - # increase depth by 1 - var c1/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *c1 - var c3/edx: (addr cell) <- copy c2 - { - print-string 0, "iter\n" - var tmp/ebx: (addr handle cell) <- get c3, first-child - var tmp2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *tmp - compare tmp2, 0 - break-if-= - c1 <- copy tmp - c3 <- copy tmp2 - loop - } - create-child c3 -} - -fn create-child node: (addr cell) { - var n/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy node - var first-child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - allocate first-child -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x64 -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- copy c - var child/eax: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max - } -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/7.mu b/prototypes/tile/7.mu deleted file mode 100644 index e2e7aff0..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/7.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,198 +0,0 @@ -# rendering trees of arbitrary depth -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/7.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# Every time you press a key, the root node gains another child. Press ctrl-c -# to exit. -# -# The rendering is still simple-minded. Children and siblings render in the -# same direction. And this interacts poorly with the depth computation, which -# only considers children. So unlike the previous prototype which splits the -# same screen width between more and more boxes, here the boxes grow to the -# right. - -# To run unit tests: -# $ ./a.elf test -fn main args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var tmp/ecx: int <- length args - $main-body: { - # if (len(args) > 1 && args[1] == "test") run-tests() - compare tmp, 1 - { - break-if-<= - # if (args[1] == "test") run-tests() - var tmp2/ecx: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - var tmp3/eax: boolean <- string-equal? *tmp2, "test" - compare tmp3, 0 - { - break-if-= - run-tests - exit-status <- copy 0 # TODO: get at Num-test-failures somehow - } - break $main-body - } - # otherwise operate interactively - exit-status <- interactive - } -} - -# - interactive loop - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn interactive -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- copy root - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - render root-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - root-addr <- lookup root-handle - render root-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var c1/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *c1 - create-child c2 -} - -fn create-child node: (addr cell) { - var n/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy node - var child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - child <- get tmp, next-sibling - loop - } - allocate child -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x64 -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- copy c - # render child if possible - { - var child/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max - } - } - # otherwise render sibling if possible (in the same column) - { - var sib/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, next-sibling - var sib-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - { - compare sib-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree sib-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max - } - } -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/8.mu b/prototypes/tile/8.mu deleted file mode 100644 index 526df803..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/8.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,228 +0,0 @@ -# rendering trees of arbitrary depth -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/8.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# Every time you press a key, the root node gains another child. Press ctrl-c -# to exit. -# -# The rendering is still simple-minded. Children and siblings render in the -# same direction. And this interacts poorly with the depth computation, which -# only considers children. So unlike the previous prototype which splits the -# same screen width between more and more boxes, here the boxes grow to the -# right. - -# To run unit tests: -# $ ./a.elf test -fn main args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var tmp/ecx: int <- length args - $main-body: { - # if (len(args) > 1 && args[1] == "test") run-tests() - compare tmp, 1 - { - break-if-<= - # if (args[1] == "test") run-tests() - var tmp2/ecx: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - var tmp3/eax: boolean <- string-equal? *tmp2, "test" - compare tmp3, 0 - { - break-if-= - run-tests - exit-status <- copy 0 # TODO: get at Num-test-failures somehow - } - break $main-body - } - # otherwise operate interactively - exit-status <- interactive - } -} - -# - interactive loop - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn interactive -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- copy root - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - render root-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - root-addr <- lookup root-handle - render root-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var c1/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var c2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *c1 - create-child c2 -} - -fn create-child node: (addr cell) { - var n/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy node - var child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - child <- get tmp, next-sibling - loop - } - allocate child -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x64 -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int { -$render-tree:body: { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - var c2/edx: (addr cell) <- copy c - # if single child, render it (slightly shorter than the parent) - var nchild/eax: int <- num-children c - { - compare nchild, 1 - break-if-> - var child/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max - } - break $render-tree:body - } - # otherwise divide vertical space up equally among children - var column-height/ebx: int <- copy row-max - column-height <- subtract row-min - var child-height/eax: int <- try-divide column-height, nchild - var child-height2/ebx: int <- copy child-height - var curr/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var curr-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *curr - var rmin/esi: int <- copy row-min - var rmax/edi: int <- copy row-min - rmax <- add child-height2 - { - compare curr-addr, 0 - break-if-= - render-tree curr-addr, column-width, rmin, root-max, rmax, col-max - curr <- get curr-addr, next-sibling - curr-addr <- lookup *curr - rmin <- add child-height2 - rmax <- add child-height2 - loop - } -} -} - -fn num-children node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - tmp-result <- increment - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/9.mu b/prototypes/tile/9.mu deleted file mode 100644 index ab143e25..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/9.mu +++ /dev/null @@ -1,307 +0,0 @@ -# moving around within a tree, though movement isn't visible yet so we can't -# be sure it's working. -# -# To run (on Linux and x86): -# $ git clone https://github.com/akkartik/mu -# $ cd mu -# $ ./translate_mu prototypes/tile/9.mu -# $ ./a.elf -# -# Press 'c' to create new children for the root node. - -# To run unit tests: -# $ ./a.elf test -fn main args-on-stack: (addr array addr array byte) -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var args/eax: (addr array addr array byte) <- copy args-on-stack - var tmp/ecx: int <- length args - $main-body: { - # if (len(args) > 1 && args[1] == "test") run-tests() - compare tmp, 1 - { - break-if-<= - # if (args[1] == "test") run-tests() - var tmp2/ecx: (addr addr array byte) <- index args, 1 - var tmp3/eax: boolean <- string-equal? *tmp2, "test" - compare tmp3, 0 - { - break-if-= - run-tests - exit-status <- copy 0 # TODO: get at Num-test-failures somehow - } - break $main-body - } - # otherwise operate interactively - exit-status <- interactive - } -} - -# - interactive loop - -type cell { - val: int # single chars only for now - parent: (handle cell) - first-child: (handle cell) - next-sibling: (handle cell) - prev-sibling: (handle cell) -} - -fn interactive -> exit-status/ebx: int { - var root-handle: (handle cell) - var root/esi: (addr handle cell) <- address root-handle - allocate root - var cursor-handle: (handle cell) - var cursor/edi: (addr handle cell) <- address cursor-handle - copy-handle root-handle, cursor - enable-keyboard-immediate-mode - var _root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *root - var root-addr/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy _root-addr - var cursor-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor - render root-addr, cursor-addr -$main:loop: { - # process key - { - var c/eax: grapheme <- read-key-from-real-keyboard - compare c, 4 # ctrl-d - break-if-= $main:loop - process c, root, cursor - } - # render tree - var _root-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup root-handle - root-addr <- copy _root-addr - var cursor-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor - render root-addr, cursor-addr - loop - } - clear-screen 0 - enable-keyboard-type-mode - exit-status <- copy 0 -} - -####################################################### -# Tree mutations -####################################################### - -fn process c: grapheme, root: (addr handle cell), cursor: (addr handle cell) { -$process:body: { - # if c == 'h' move cursor to its parent if possible - { - compare c, 0x68 # 'h' - break-if-!= - move-to-parent cursor - } - # if c == 'l' move cursor to its first child if possible - { - compare c, 0x6c # 'l' - break-if-!= - move-to-child cursor - } - # if c == 'j' move cursor to its next sibling if possible - { - compare c, 0x6a # 'j' - break-if-!= - move-to-next-sibling cursor - } - # if c == 'k' move cursor to its prev sibling if possible - { - compare c, 0x6b # 'k' - break-if-!= - move-to-prev-sibling cursor - } - # if c == 'c' create a new child at the cursor - { - compare c, 0x63 # 'c' - break-if-!= - var cursor1/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor2/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor1 - create-child cursor2 - } -} -} - -fn move-to-parent cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var parent/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, parent - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *parent - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *parent, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-child cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, first-child - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *child, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-next-sibling cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var sib/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, next-sibling - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *sib, cursor - } -} - -fn move-to-prev-sibling cursor: (addr handle cell) { - var cursor2/eax: (addr handle cell) <- copy cursor - var cursor3/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *cursor2 - var sib/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get cursor3, prev-sibling - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *sib - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - copy-handle *sib, cursor - } -} - -fn create-child node: (addr cell) { - var n/ecx: (addr cell) <- copy node - var child/esi: (addr handle cell) <- get n, first-child - { - var tmp/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - compare tmp, 0 - break-if-= - child <- get tmp, next-sibling - loop - } - allocate child -} - -####################################################### -# Tree drawing -####################################################### - -fn render root: (addr cell), cursor: (addr cell) { - clear-screen 0 - var depth/eax: int <- tree-depth root - var viewport-width/ecx: int <- copy 0x64 # col2 - viewport-width <- subtract 5 # col1 - var column-width/eax: int <- try-divide viewport-width, depth - render-tree root, column-width, 5, 5, 0x20, 0x64, cursor -} - -fn render-tree c: (addr cell), column-width: int, row-min: int, col-min: int, row-max: int, col-max: int, cursor: (addr cell) { -$render-tree:body: { - var root-max/ecx: int <- copy col-min - root-max <- add column-width - draw-box row-min, col-min, row-max, root-max - var c2/edx: (addr cell) <- copy c - # if single child, render it (slightly shorter than the parent) - var nchild/eax: int <- num-children c - { - compare nchild, 1 - break-if-> - var child/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - increment row-min - decrement row-max - render-tree child-addr, column-width, row-min, root-max, row-max, col-max, cursor - } - break $render-tree:body - } - # otherwise divide vertical space up equally among children - var column-height/ebx: int <- copy row-max - column-height <- subtract row-min - var child-height/eax: int <- try-divide column-height, nchild - var child-height2/ebx: int <- copy child-height - var curr/edx: (addr handle cell) <- get c2, first-child - var curr-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *curr - var rmin/esi: int <- copy row-min - var rmax/edi: int <- copy row-min - rmax <- add child-height2 - { - compare curr-addr, 0 - break-if-= - render-tree curr-addr, column-width, rmin, root-max, rmax, col-max, cursor - curr <- get curr-addr, next-sibling - curr-addr <- lookup *curr - rmin <- add child-height2 - rmax <- add child-height2 - loop - } -} -} - -fn num-children node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - tmp-result <- increment - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result -} - -fn tree-depth node-on-stack: (addr cell) -> result/eax: int { - var tmp-result/edi: int <- copy 0 - var node/eax: (addr cell) <- copy node-on-stack - var child/ecx: (addr handle cell) <- get node, first-child - var child-addr/eax: (addr cell) <- lookup *child - { - compare child-addr, 0 - break-if-= - { - var tmp/eax: int <- tree-depth child-addr - compare tmp, tmp-result - break-if-<= - tmp-result <- copy tmp - } - child <- get child-addr, next-sibling - child-addr <- lookup *child - loop - } - result <- copy tmp-result - result <- increment -} - -fn draw-box row1: int, col1: int, row2: int, col2: int { - draw-horizontal-line row1, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col1 - draw-horizontal-line row2, col1, col2 - draw-vertical-line row1, row2, col2 -} - -fn draw-horizontal-line row: int, col1: int, col2: int { - var col/eax: int <- copy col1 - move-cursor 0, row, col - { - compare col, col2 - break-if->= - print-string 0, "-" - col <- increment - loop - } -} - -fn draw-vertical-line row1: int, row2: int, col: int { - var row/eax: int <- copy row1 - { - compare row, row2 - break-if->= - move-cursor 0, row, col - print-string 0, "|" - row <- increment - loop - } -} diff --git a/prototypes/tile/README.md b/prototypes/tile/README.md deleted file mode 100644 index 2fbe3b6c..00000000 --- a/prototypes/tile/README.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13 +0,0 @@ -# Drawing tiles on screen - -This directory contains a series of prototypes. For more details on the -organization of this directory and building, see [the parent directory](..). - -Once you've followed the instructions for building a prototype, run most of -them like this: - -``` -$ ./a.elf -``` - -See the code of individual prototypes for further instructions. |