`Hereheis,'saidtheDoctor,enteringthedarkroomatthemoment.
　　`Iamquitegladyouareathome;forthesehurriesandforebodingsbywhichIhavebeensurroundedalldaylong,havemademenervouswithoutreason.Youarenotgoingout,Ihope?'
　　`No;Iamgoingtoplaybackgammonwithyou,ifyoulike,'saidtheDoctor.
　　`Idon'tthinkIdolike,ifImayspeakmymind.Iamnotfittobepittedagainstyouto-night.Isthetea-boardstillthere,Lucie?Ican'tsee.'
　　`Ofcourse,ithasbeenkeptforyou.'
　　`Thankye,mydear.Thepreciouschildissafeinbed?'
　　`Andsleepingsoundly.
　　`That'sright;allsafeandwell!Idon'tknowwhyanythingshouldbeotherwisethansafeandwellhere,thankGod;butIhavebeensoputoutallday,andIamnotasyoungasIwas!Mytea,mydear!Thankye.Now,comeandtakeyourplaceinthecircle,andletussitquiet,andheartheechoesaboutwhichyouhaveyourtheory.'
　　`Notatheory;itwasafancy.'
　　`Afancy,then,mywisepet,'saidMr.Lorry,pattingherhand.`Theyareverynumerousandveryloud,though,aretheynot?Onlyhearthem!'
　　Headlong,mad,anddangerousfootstepstoforcetheirwayintoanybody'slife,footstepsnoteasilymadecleanagainifoncestainedred,thefootstepsraginginSaintAntoineafaroff,asthelittlecirclesatinthedarkLondonwindow.
　　SaintAntoinehadbeen,thatmorning,avastduskymassofscarecrowsheavingtoandfro,withfrequentgleamsoflightabovethebillowyheads,wheresteelbladesandbayonetsshoneinthesun.AtremendousroararosefromthethroatofSaintAntoine,andaforestofnakedarmsstruggledintheairlikeshrivelledbranchesoftreesinawinterwind:allthefingersconvulsivelyclutchingateveryweaponorsemblanceofaweaponthatwasthrownupfromthedepthsbelow,nomatterhowfaroff.
　　Whogavethemout,whencetheylastcame,wheretheybegan,throughwhatagencytheycrookedlyquiveredandjerked,scoresatatime,overtheheadsofthecrowd,likeakindoflightning,noeyeinthethrongcouldhavetold;but,musketswerebeingdistributed——sowerecartridges,powder,andball,barsofironandwood,knives,axes,pikes,everyweaponthatdistractedingenuitycoulddiscoverordevise.Peoplewhocouldlayholdofnothingelse,setthemselveswithbleedinghandstoforcestonesandbricksoutoftheirplacesinwalls.EverypulseandheartinSaintAntoinewasonhigh-feverstrainandathigh-feverheat.Everylivingcreaturethereheldlifeasofnoaccount,andwasdementedwithapassionatereadinesstosacrificeit.
　　Asawhirlpoolofboilingwatershasacentrepoint,so,allthisragingcircledroundDefarge'swine-shop,andeveryhumandropinthecaldronhadatendencytobesuckedtowardsthevortexwhereDefargehimself,alreadybegrimedwithgunpowderandsweat,issuedorders,issuedarms,thrustthismanback,draggedthismanforward,disarmedonetoarmanother,labouredandstroveinthethickestoftheuproar.
　　`Keepneartome,JacquesThree,'criedDefarge;`anddoyou,JacquesOneandTwo,separateandputyourselvesattheheadofasmanyofthesepatriotsasyoucan.Whereismywife?'
　　`Eh,well!Hereyouseeme!'saidmadame,composedasever,butnotknittingto-day.Madame'sresoluterighthandwasoccupiedwithanaxe,inplaceoftheusualsofterimplements,andinhergirdlewereapistolandacruelknife.
　　`Wheredoyougo,mywife?'
　　`Igo,'saidmadame,`withyouatpresent.Youshallseemeattheheadofwomen,by-and-by.'
　　`Come,then!'criedDefarge,inaresoundingvoice.`Patriotsandfriends,weareready!TheBastille!'
　　WitharoarthatsoundedasifallthebreathinFrancehadbeenshapedintothedetestedword,thelivingsearose,waveonwave,depthondepth,andoverflowedthecitytothatpoint.Alarm-bellsringing,drumsbeating,thesearagingandthunderingonitsnewbeach,theattack`begun.
　　Deepditches,doubledrawbridge,massivestonewalls,eightgreattowers,cannon,muskets,fireandsmoke.Throughthefireandthroughthesmoke——inthefireandinthesmoke,fortheseacasthimupagainstacannon,andontheinstanthebecameacannonier——Defargeofthewine-shopworkedlikeamanfulsoldier,Twofiercehours.
　　Deepditch,singledrawbridge,massivestonewalls,eightattowers,cannon,muskets,fireandsmoke.Onedrawbridgedown!`Work,comradesall,work!Work,Jacques,JacquesTwo,JacquesOneThousand,JacquesTwoThousand,JacquesFive-and-TwentyThousand;inthenameofalltheAngelsortheDevils——whichyouprefer——work!'ThusDefargeofthewine-shop,stillathisgun,whichhadlonggrownhot.
　　`Tome,women!'criedmadamehiswife.`What!Wecankillaswellasthemenwhentheplaceistaken!'Andtoher,withashrillthirstycry,troopingwomenvariouslyarmed,butallarmedalikeinhungerandrevenge.
　　Cannon,muskets,fireandsmoke;but,stillthedeepditch,thesingledrawbridge,themassivestonewalls,andtheeightgreattowers.Slightdisplacementsoftheragingsea,madebythefallingwounded.Flashingweapons,blazingtorches,smokingwaggon-loadsofwetstraw,hardworkatneighbouringbarricadesinalldirections,shrieks,volleys,execrations,braverywithoutstint,boom,smashandrattle,andthefurioussoundingofthelivingsea;but,stillthedeepditch,andthesingledrawbridge,andthemassivestonewalls,andtheeightgreattowers,andstillDefargeofthewine-shopathisgun,growndoublyhotbytheserviceofFourfiercehours.
　　Awhiteflagfromwithinthefortress,andaparley——thisdimlyperceptiblethroughtheragingstorm,nothingaudibleinit——suddenlythesearoseimmeasurablywiderandhigher,andsweptDefargeofthewine-shopoverthelowereddraw-bridge,pastthemassivestoneouterwalls,inamongtheeightgreattowerssurrendered!
　　Soresistlesswastheforceoftheoceanbearinghimon,thateventodrawhisbreathorturnhisheadwasasimpracticableasifhehadbeenstrugglinginthesurfattheSouthSea,untilhewaslandedintheoutercourt-yardoftheBastille.There,againstanangleofawall,hemadeastruggletolookabouthim.JacquesThreewasnearlyathisside;MadameDefarge,still-headingsomeofherwomen,wasvisibleintheinnerdistance,andherknifewasinherhand.Everywherewastumult,exultation,deafeningandmaniacalbewilderment,astoundingnoise,yetfuriousdumb-show.
　　`ThePrisoners!'
　　`TheRecords!'
　　`Thesecretcells!'
　　`Theinstrumentsoftorture!'
　　`ThePrisoners!'
　　Ofallthesecries,andtenthousandincoherencies,`ThePrisoners!'wastheCrymosttakenupbytheseathatrushedin,asiftherewereaneternityofpeople,aswellasoftimeandspace.Whentheforemostbillowsrolledpast,bearingtheprisonofficerswiththem,andthreateningthemallwithinstantdeathifanysecretnookremainedundisclosed,Defargelaidhisstronghandonthebreastofoneofthesemen——amanwithagreyhead,whohadalightedtorchinhishand——separatedhimfromtherest,andgothimbetweenhimselfandthewall.
　　`ShowmetheNorthTower!'saidDefarge.`Quick!'
　　`Iwillfaithfully,'repliedtheman,`ifyouwillcomewithme.
　　Butthereisnoonethere.'
　　`WhatisthemeaningofOneHundredandFive,NorthTower?'askedDefarge.`Quick!'
　　`Themeaning,monsieur?'
　　`Doesitmeanacaptive,oraplaceofcaptivity?OrdoyoumeanthatIshallstrikeyoudead?'
　　`Killhim!'croakedJacquesThree,whohadcomecloseup.
　　`Monsieur,itisacell.'
　　`Showitme!'
　　`Passthisway,then.'
　　JacquesThree,withhisusualcravingonhim,andevidentlydisappointedbythedialoguetakingaturnthatdidnotseemtopromisebloodshed,heldbyDefarge'sarmasheheldbytheturnkey's.Theirthreeheadshadbeenclosetogetherduringthisbriefdiscourse,andithadbeenasmuchastheycoulddotohearoneanother,eventhen:sotremendouswasthenoiseofthelivingocean,initsirruptionintotheFortress,anditsinundationofthecourtsandpassagesandstaircases.Allaroundoutside,too,itbeatthewallswithadeep,hoarseroar,fromwhich,occasionally,somepartialshoutsoftumultbrokeandleapedintotheairlikespray.
　　Throughgloomyvaultswherethelightofdayhadnevershone,pasthideousdoorsofdarkdensandcages,downcavernousflightsofsteps,andagainupsteepruggedascentsofstoneandbrick,morelikedrywaterfallsthanstaircases,Defarge,theturnkey,andJacquesThree,linkedhandandarm,wentwithallthespeedtheycouldmake.Hereandthere,especiallyatfirst,theinundationstartedonthemandsweptby;butwhentheyhaddonedescending,andwerewindingandclimbingupatower,theywerealone.Hemmedinherebythemassivethicknessofwallsandarches,thestormwithinthefortressandwithoutwasonlyaudibletotheminadull,subduedway,asifthenoiseoutofwhichtheyhadcomehadalmostdestroyedtheirsenseofhearing.
　　Theturnkeystoppedatalowdoor,putakeyinaclashinglock,swungthedoorslowlyopen,andsaid,astheyallbenttheirheadsandpassedin:
　　`Onehundredandfive,NorthTower!'
　　Therewasasmall,heavily-grated,unglazedwindowhighinthewall,withastonescreenbeforeit,sothattheskycouldbeonlyseenbystoopinglowandlookingup.Therewasasmallchimney,heavilybarredacross,afewfeetwithin.Therewasaheapofoldfeatherywood-ashesonthehearth.Therewasastool,andtable,andastrawbed.Therewerethefourblackenedwalls,andarustedironringinoneofthem.
　　`Passthattorchslowlyalongthesewalls,thatImayseethem,'saidDefargetotheturnkey.
　　Themanobeyed,andDefargefollowedthelightcloselywithhiseyes.
　　`Stop——Lookhere,Jacques!'
　　`A.M.!'croakedJacquesThree,ashereadgreedily.
　　`AlexandreManette,'saidDefargeinhisear,followingtheletterswithhisswartforefinger,deeplyengrainedwithgunpowder.`Andherehewrote``apoorphysician.''Anditwashe,withoutdoubt,whoscratchedacalendaronthisstone.Whatisthatinyourhand?Acrowbar?Giveitme!'
　　Hehadstillthelinstockofhisguninhisownhand.Hemadeasuddenexchangeofthetwoinstruments,andturningontheworm-eatenstoolandtable,beatthemtopiecesinafewblows.
　　`Holdthelighthigher!'hesaid,wrathfully,totheturnkey.`Lookamongthosefragmentswithcare,Jacques.Andsee!Hereismyknife,'throwingittohim;`ripopenthatbed,andsearchthestraw.Holdthelighthigher,you!'
　　Withamenacinglookattheturnkeyhecrawleduponthehearth,and,peeringupthechimney,struckandprisedatitssideswiththecrowbar,andworkedattheirongratingacrossit.Inafewminutes,somemortaranddustcamedroppingdown,whichheavertedhisfacetoavoid;andinit,andintheoldwood-ashes,andinacreviceinthechimneyintowhichhisweaponhadslippedorwroughtitself,hegropedwithacautioustouch.
　　`Nothinginthewood,andnothinginthestraw,Jacques?'
　　`Nothing.'
　　`Letuscollectthemtogether,inthemiddleofthecell.So!Lightthem,you!'
　　Theturnkeyfiredthelittlepile,whichblazedhighandhot.Stoopingagaintocomeoutatthelow-archeddoor,theyleftitburning,andretracedtheirwaytothecourt-yard;seemingtorecovertheirsenseofhearingastheycamedown,untiltheywereintheragingfloodoncemore.
　　Theyfounditsurgingandtossing,inquestofDefargehimself.SaintAntoinewasclamoroustohaveitswine-shopkeeperforemostintheguarduponthegovernorwhohaddefendedtheBastilleandshotthepeople.Otherwise,thegovernorwouldnotbemarchedtotheHoteldeVilleforjudgment.Otherwise,thegovernorwouldescape,andthepeople'sbloodsuddenlyofsomevalue,aftermanyyearsofworthlessnessbeunavenged.
　　Inthehowlinguniverseofpassionandcontentionthatseemedtoencompassthisgrimoldofficerconspicuousinhisgreycoatandreddecoration,therewasbutonequitesteadyfigure,andthatwasawoman's.`See,thereismyhusband!'shecried,pointinghimout.`SeeDefarge!'Shestoodimmovableclosetothegrimoldofficer,andremainedimmovableclosetohim;remainedimmovableclosetohimthroughthestreets,asDefargeandtherestborehimalong;remainedimmovableclosetohimwhenhewasgotnearhisdestination,andbegantobestruckatfrombehind;remainedimmovableclosetohimwhenthelong-gatheringrainofstabsandblowsfellheavy;wassoclosetohimwhenhedroppeddeadunderit,that,suddenlyanimated,sheputherfootuponhisneck,andwithhercruelknife-long`ready-hewedoffhishead.
　　Thehourwascome,whenSaintAntoinewastoexecutehishorribleideaofhoistingupmenforlampstoshowwhathecouldbeanddo.SaintAntoine'sbloodwasup,andthebloodoftyrannyanddominationbytheironhandwasdown——downonthestepsoftheHoteldeVillewherethegovernor'sbodylay——downonthesoleoftheshoeofMadameDefargewhereshehadtroddenonthebodytosteadyitformutilation.`Lowerthelampyonder!'criedSaintAntoine,afterglaringroundforanewmeansofdeath;`hereisoneofhissoldierstobeleftonguard!'Theswingingsentinelwasposted,andthesearushedon.
　　Theseaofblackandthreateningwaters,andofdestructiveupheavingofwaveagainstwave,whosedepthswereyetunfathomedandwhoseforceswereyetunknown.Theremorselessseaofturbulentlyswayingshapes,voicesofvengeance,andfaceshardenedinthefurnacesofsufferinguntilthetouchofpitycouldmakenomarkonthem.
　　But,intheoceanoffaceswhereeveryfierceandfuriousexpressionwasinvividlife,thereweretwogroupsoffaces——eachseveninnumber——sofixedlycontrastingwiththerest,thatneverdidsearollwhichboremorememorablewreckswithit.Sevenfacesofprisoners,suddenlyreleasedbythestormthathadbursttheirtomb,werecarriedhighoverhead:allscared,alllost,allwonderingandamazed,asiftheDaywerecome,andthosewhorejoicedaroundthemwerelostspirits.Othersevenfacestherewere,carriedhigher,sevendeadfaces,whosedroopingeyelidsandhalf-seeneyesawaitedtheDay.Impassivefaces,yetwithasuspended——notanabolished——expressiononthem;faces,rather,inafearfulpause,ashavingyettoraisethedroppedlidsoftheeyes,andbearwitnesswiththebloodlesslips,`THOUDIDSTIT!'
　　Sevenprisonersreleased,sevengoryheadsonpikes,thekeysoftheaccursedfortressoftheeightstrongtowers,somediscoveredlettersandothermemorialsofprisonersofoldtime,longdeadofbrokenhearts,——such,andsuch-like,theloudlyechoingfootstepsofSaintAntoineescortthroughtheParisstreetsinmid-July,onethousandsevenhundredandeighty-nine.Now,HeavendefeatthefancyofLucieDarnay,andkeepthesefeetfaroutofherlife!For,theyareheadlong,mad,anddangerous;andintheyearssolongafterthebreakingofthecaskatDefarge'swine-shopdoor,theyarenoteasilypurifiedwhenoncestainedred.
　　CHAPTERXXII
　　TheSeastillRises
　　HAGGARDSaintAntoinehadhadonlyoneexultantweek,inwhichtosoftenhismodicumofhardandbitterbreadtosuchextentashecould,withtherelishoffraternalembracesancongratulations,whenMadameDefargesatathercounter,asusual,presidingoverthecustomers.MadameDefargeworenoroseinherhead,forthegreatbrotherhoodofSpieshadbecome,eveninoneshortweek,extremelycharyoftrustingthemselvestothesaint'smercies.Thelampshadaportentouslyelasticswingwiththem.
　　MadameDefarge,withherarmsfolded,satinthemorninglightandheat,contemplatingthewine-shopandthestreet.Inboth,therewereseveralknotsofloungers,squalidandmiserable,butnowwithamanifestsenseofpowerenthronedontheirdistress.Theraggedestnightcap,awryonthewretchedesthead,hadthiscrookedsignificanceinit:`Iknowhowhardithasgrownforme,thewearerofthis,tosupportlifeinmyself;butdoyouknowhoweasyithasgrownforme,thewearerofthis,todestroylifeinyou?'Everyleanbarearm,thathadbeenwithoutworkbefore,hadthisworkalwaysreadyforitnow,thatitcouldstrike.Thefingersoftheknittingwomenwerevicious,withtheexperiencethattheycouldtear.TherewasachangeintheappearanceofSaintAntoine;thehammeringintothisforhundredsofyears,andthelastfinishingblowshadtoldmightilyontheexpression.
　　MadameDefargesatobservingit,withsuchsuppressedapprovalaswastobedesiredintheleaderoftheSaintAntoinewomen.Oneofhersisterhoodknittedbesideher.Theshort,ratherplumpwifeofastarvedgrocer,andthemotheroftwochildrenwithal,thislieutenanthadalreadyearnedthecomplimentarynameofTheVengeance.
　　`Hark!'saidTheVengeance.`Listen,then!Whocomes?'
　　AsifatrainofpowderlaidfromtheoutermostboundoftheSaintAntoineQuartertothewine-shopdoor,hadbeensuddenlyfired,afast-spreadingmurmurcamerushingalong.
　　`ItisDefarge,'saidmadame.`Silence,patriots!'
　　Defargecameinbreathless,pulledoffaredcaphewore,andlookedaroundhim!`Listen,everywhere!'saidmadameagain.`Listentohim!'Defargestood,panting,againstabackgroundofeagereyesandopenmouths,formedoutsidethedoor;allthosewithinthewine-shophadsprungtotheirfeet.
　　`Saythen,myhusband.Whatisit?'
　　`Newsfromtheotherworld!'
　　`How,then?'criedmadame,contemptuously.`Theotherworld?'
　　`DoeseverybodyhererecalloldFoulon,whotoldthefamishedpeoplethattheymighteatgrass,andwhodied,andwenttoHell?'
　　`Everybody!'fromallthroats.
　　`Thenewsisofhim.Heisamongus!'
　　`Amongus!'fromtheuniversalthroatagain.`Anddead?'
　　`Notdead!Hefearedussomuch——andwithreason——thathecausedhimselftoberepresentedasdead,andhadagrandmock-funeral.Buttheyhavefoundhimalive,hidinginthecountry,andhavebroughthimin.Ihaveseenhimbutnow,onhiswaytotheH?teldeVille,aprisoner.Ihavesaidthathehadreasontofearus.Sayall!Hadhereason?'
　　Wretchedoldsinnerofmorethanthreescoreyearsandten,ifhehadneverknownityet,hewouldhaveknownitinhisheartofheartsifhecouldhaveheardtheansweringcry.
　　Amomentofprofoundsilencefollowed.Defargeandhiswifelookedsteadfastlyatoneanother.TheVengeancestooped,andthejarofadrumwasheardasshemoveditatherfeetbehindthecounter.
　　`Patriots!'saidDefarge,inadeterminedvoice,`areweready?'
　　InstantlyMadameDefarge'sknifewasinhergirdle;thedrumwasbeatinginthestreets,asifitandadrummerhadflowntogetherbymagic;andTheVengeance,utteringterrificshrieks,andflingingherarmsaboutherheadlikeallthefortyFuriesatonce,wastearingfromhousetohouse,rousingthewomen.
　　Themenwereterrible,inthebloody-mindedangerwithwhichtheylookedfromwindows,caughtupwhatarmstheyhad,andcamepouringdownintothestreets;but,thewomenwereasighttochilltheboldest.Fromsuchhouseholdoccupationsastheirbarepovertyyielded,fromtheirchildren,fromtheiragedandtheirsickcrouchingonthebaregroundfamishedandnaked,theyranoutwithstreaminghair,urgingoneanother,andthemselves,tomadnesswiththewildestcriesandactions.VillainFoulontaken,mysister!OldFoulontaken,mymother!MiscreantFoulontaken,mydaughter!Then,ascoreofothersranintothemidstofthese,beatingtheirbreasts,tearingtheirhair,andscreaming,Foulonalive!Foulonwhotoldthestarvingpeopletheymighteatgrass!Foulonwhotoldmyoldfatherthathemighteatgrass,whenIhadnobreadtogivehim!Foulonwhotoldmybabyitmightsuckgrass,whenthesebreastsweredrywithwant!OmotherofGod,thisFoulon!OHeaven,oursuffering!Hearme,mydeadbabyandmywitheredfather:Iswearonmyknees,onthesestones,toavengeyouonFoulon!Husbands,andbrothers,andyoungmen,GiveusthebloodofFoulon,GiveustheheadofFoulon,GiveustheheartofFoulon,GiveusthebodyandsoulofFoulon,RendFoulontopieces,anddighimintotheground,thatgrassmaygrowfromhim!Withthesecries,numbersofthewomen,lashedintoblindfrenzy,whirledabout,strikingandtearingattheirownfriendsuntiltheydroppedintoapassionateswoon,andwereonlysavedbythemenbelongingtothemfrombeingtrampledunderfoot.
　　Nevertheless,notamomentwaslost;notamoment!ThisFoulonwasattheH?teldeVille,andmightbeloosed.Never,ifSaintAntoineknewhisownsufferings,insults,andwrongs!ArmedmenandwomenflockedoutoftheQuartersofast,anddreweventheselastdregsafterthemwithsuchaforceofsuction,thatwithinaquarterofanhourtherewasnotahumancreatureinSaintAntoine'sbosombutafewoldcronesandthewailingchildren.
　　No.TheywereallbythattimechokingtheHallofExaminationwherethisoldman,uglyandwicked,was,andoverflowingintotheadjacentopenspaceandstreets.TheDefarges,husbandandwife,TheVengeance,andJacquesThree,wereinthefirstpress,andatnogreatdistancefromhimintheHall.
　　`See!'criedmadame,pointingwithherknife.`Seetheoldvillainboundwithropes.Thatwaswelldonetotieabunchofgrassuponhisback.Ha,ha!Thatwaswelldone.Lethimeatitnow!'Madameputherknifeunderherarm,andclappedherhandsasataplay.
　　ThepeopleimmediatelybehindMadameDefarge,explainingthecauseofhersatisfactiontothosebehindthem,andthoseagainexplainingtoothers,andthosetoothers,theneighbouringstreetsresoundedwiththeclappingofhands.Similarly,duringtwoorthreehoursofbrawl,andthewinnowingofmanybushelsofwords,MadameDefarge'sfrequentexpressionsofimpatienceweretakenup,withmarvellousquickness,atadistance:themorereadily,becausecertainmenwhohadbysomewonderfulexerciseofagilityclimbeduptheexternalarchitecturetolookinfromthewindows,knewMadameDefargewell,andactedasatelegraphbetweenherandthecrowdoutsidethebuilding.
　　Atlengththesunrosesohighthatitstruckakindlyrayasofhopeorprotection,directlydownupontheoldprisoner'shead.Thefavourwastoomuchtobear;inaninstantthebarrierofdustandchaffthathadstoodsurprisinglylong,wenttothewinds,andSaintAntoinehadgothim!
　　Itwasknowndirectly,tothefurthestconfinesofthecrowd.Defargehadbutsprungoverarailingandatable,andfoldedthemiserablewretchinadeadlyembrace——MadameDefargehadbutfollowedandturnedherhandinoneoftheropeswithwhichhewastied——TheVengeanceandJacquesThreewerenotyetupwiththem,andthemenatthewindowshadnotyetswoopedintotheHall,likebirdsofpreyfromtheirhighperches——whenthecryseemedtogoup,alloverthecity,`Bringhimout!Bringhimtothelamp!'
　　Down,andup,andheadforemostonthestepsofthebuilding;now,onhisknees;now,onhisfeet;now,onhisback;dragged,andstruckat,andstifledbythebunchesofgrassandstrawthatwerethrustintohisfacebyhundredsofhands;torn,bruised,panting,bleeding,yetalwaysentreatingandbeseechingformercy;nowfullofvehementagonyofaction,withasmallclearspaceabouthimasthepeopledrewoneanotherbackthattheymightsee;now,alogofdeadwooddrawnthroughaforestoflegs;hewashauledtotheneareststreetcornerwhereoneofthefatallampsswung,andthereMadameDefargelethimgo——asacatmighthavedonetoamouse——andsilentlyandcomposedlylookedathimwhiletheymadeready,andwhilehebesoughther:thewomenpassionatelyscreechingathimallthetime,andthemensternlycallingouttohavehimkilledwithgrassinhismouth.Once,hewentaloft,andtheropebroke,andtheycaughthimshrieking;twice,hewentaloft,andtheropebroke,andtheycaughthimshrieking;then,theropewasmerciful,andheldhim,andhisheadwassoonuponapike,withgrassenoughinthemouthforallSaintAntoinetodanceatthesightof.Norwasthistheendoftheday'sbadwork,forSaintAntoinesoshoutedanddancedhisangrybloodup,thatitboiledagain,onhearingwhenthedayclosedinthattheson-in-lawofthedespatched,anotherofthepeople'senemiesandinsulters,wascomingintoParisunderguardfivehundredstrong,incavalryalone.SaintAntoinewrotehiscrimesonflaringsheetsofpaper,seizedhim——wouldhavetornhimoutofthebreastofanarmytobearFouloncompany——sethisheadandheartonpikes,andcarriedthethreespoilsoftheday,inWolf-procession,throughthestreets.
　　Notbeforedarknightdidthemenandwomencomebacktothechildren,wailingandbreadless.Then,themiserablebakers'shopswerebesetbylongfilesofthem,patientlywaitingtobuybadbread;andwhiletheywaitedwithstomachsfaintandempty,theybeguiledthetimebyembracingoneanotheronthetriumphsoftheday,andachievingthemagainingossip.Gradually,thesestringsofraggedpeopleshortenedandfrayedaway;andthenpoorlightsbegantoshineinhighwindows,andslenderfiresweremadeinthestreets,atwhichneighbourscookedincommon,afterwardssuppingattheirdoors.
　　Scantyandinsufficientsuppersthose,andinnocentofmeat,asofmostothersaucetowretchedbread.Yet,humanfellowshipinfusedsomenourishmentintotheflintyviands,andstrucksomesparksofcheerfulnessoutofthem.Fathersandmotherswhohadhadtheirfullshareintheworstoftheday,playedgentlywiththeirmeagrechildren;andlovers,withsuchaworldaroundthemandbeforethem,lovedandhoped.
　　Itwasalmostmorning,whenDefarge'swine-shoppartedwithitslastknotofcustomers,andMonsieurDefargesaidtomadamehiswife,inhuskytones,whilefasteningthedoor:
　　`Atlastitiscome,mydear!'
　　`Ehwell!'returnedmadame.`Almost.'
　　SaintAntoineslept,theDefargesslept:evenTheVengeancesleptwithherstarvedgrocer,andthedrumwasatrest.Thedrum'swastheonlyvoiceinSaintAntoinethatbloodandhurryhadnotchanged.TheVengeance,ascustodianofthedrum,couldhavewakenedhimupandhadthesamespeechoutofhimasbeforetheBastillefell,oroldFoulonwasseized;notsowiththehoarsetonesofthemenandwomeninSaintAntoine'sbosom.
　　CHAPTERXXIII
　　FireRises
　　THEREwasachangeonthevillagewherethefountainfell,andwherethemenderofroadswentforthdailytohammeroutofthestonesonthehighwaysuchmorselsofbreadasmightserveforpatchestoholdhispoorignorantsoulandhispoorreducedbodytogether.Theprisononthecragwasnotsodominantasofyore;thereweresoldierstoguardit,butnotmany;therewereofficerstoguardthesoldiers,butnotoneofthemknewwhathismenwoulddo——beyondthis:thatitwouldprobablynotbewhathewasordered.
　　Farandwidelayaruinedcountry,yieldingnothingbutdesolation.Everygreenleaf,everybladeofgrassandbladeofgrain,wasasshrivelledandpoorasthemiserablepeople.Everythingwasboweddown,dejected,oppressed,andbroken.Habitations,fences,domesticatedanimals,men,women,children,andthesoilthatborethem——allwornout.
　　Monseigneuroftenamostworthyindividualgentlemanwasanationalblessing,gaveachivalroustonetothings,wasapoliteexampleofluxuriousandshininglife,andagreatdealmoretoequalpurpose;nevertheless,Monseigneurasaclasshad,somehoworother,broughtthingstothis.StrangethatCreation,designedexpresslyforMonseigneur,shouldbesosoonwrungdryandsqueezedout!Theremustbesomethingshort-sightedintheeternalarrangements,surelyThusitwas,however;andthelastdropofbloodhavingbeenextractedfromtheflints,andthelastscrewoftherackhavingbeenturnedsooftenthatitspurchasecrumbled,anditnowturnedandturnedwithnothingtobite,Monseigneurbegantorunawayfromaphenomenonsolowandunaccountable.
　　But,thiswasnotthechangeonthevillage,andonmanyavillagelikeit.Forscoresofyearsgoneby,Monseigneurhadsqueezeditandwrungit,andhadseldomgraceditwithhispresenceexceptforthepleasuresofthechase——now,foundinhuntingthepeople;now,foundinhuntingthebeasts,forwhosepreservationMonseigneurmadeedifyingspacesofbarbarousandbarrenwilderness.No.Thechangeconsistedintheappearanceofstrangefacesoflowcaste,ratherthaninthedisappearanceofthehigh-caste,chiseled,andotherwisebeatifiedandbeatifyingfeaturesofMonseigneur.
　　For,inthesetimes,asthemenderofroadsworked,solitary,inthedust,notoftentroublinghimselftoreflectthatdusthewasandtodusthemustreturn,beingforthemostparttoomuchoccupiedinthinkinghowlittlehehadforsupperandhowmuchmorehewouldeatifhehadit——inthesetimes,asheraisedhiseyesfromhislonelylabour,andviewedtheprospect,hewouldseesomeroughfigureapproachingonfoot,thelikeofwhichwasonceararityinthoseparts,butwasnowafrequentpresence.Asitadvanced,themenderofroadswoulddiscernwithoutsurprise,thatitwasashaggy-hairedman,ofalmostbarbarianaspect,tall,inwoodenshoesthatwereclumsyeventotheeyesofamenderofroads,grim,rough,swart,steepedinthemudanddustofmanyhighways,dankwiththemarshymoistureofmanylowgrounds,sprinkledwiththethornsandleavesandmossofmanybywaysthroughwoods.
　　Suchamancameuponhim,likeaghost,atnoonintheJulyweather,ashesatonhisheapofstonesunderabank,takingsuchshelterashecouldgetfromashowerofhail.
　　Themanlookedathim,lookedatthevillageinthehollow,atthemill,andattheprisononthecrag.Whenhehadidentifiedtheseobjectsinwhatbenightedmindhehad,hesaid,inadialectthatwasjustintelligible:
　　`Howgoesit,Jacques?'
　　`Allwell,Jacques.'
　　`Touchthen!'
　　Theyjoinedhands,andthemansatdownontheheapofstones.
　　`Nodinner?'
　　`Nothingbutsuppernow,'saidthemenderofroads,withahungryface.
　　`Itisthefashion,'growledtheman.`Imeetnodinneranywhere.'
　　Hetookoutablackenedpipe,filledit,lighteditwithflintandsteel,pulledatituntilitwasinabrightglow:then,suddenlyhelditfromhimanddroppedsomethingintoitfrombetweenhisfingerandthumb,thatblazedandwentoutinapuffofsmoke.
　　`Touchthen.'Itwastheturnofthemenderofroadstosayitthistime,afterobservingtheseoperations.Theyagainjoinedhands.
　　`To-night?'saidthemenderofroads.
　　`To-night,'saidtheman,puttingthepipeinhismouth.
　　`Where?'
　　`Here.'
　　Heandthemenderofroadssatontheheapofstoneslookingsilentlyatoneanother,withthehaildrivinginbetweenthemlikeapigmychargeofbayonets,untiltheskybegantoclearoverthevillage.
　　`Showme!'saidthetravellerthen,movingtothebrowofthehill.
　　`See.'returnedthemenderofroads,withextendedfinger.`Yougodownhere,andstraightthroughthestreet,andpastthefountain——
　　`TotheDevilwithallthat!'interruptedtheother,rollinghiseyeoverthelandscape.`Igothroughnostreetsandpastnofountains.Well?'
　　`Well!Abouttwoleaguesbeyondthesummitofthathillabovethevillage.'
　　`Good.Whendoyouceasetowork?'
　　`Atsunset.'
　　`Willyouwakeme,beforedeparting?Ihavewalkedtwonightswithoutresting.Letmefinishmypipe,andIshallsleeplikeachild.Willyouwakeme?'
　　`Surely.'
　　Thewayfarersmokedhispipeout,putitinhisbreast,slippedoffhisgreatwoodenshoes,andlaydownonhisbackontheheapofstones.Hewasfastasleepdirectly.
　　Astheroad-menderpliedhisdustylabour,andthehail-clouds,rollingaway,revealedbrightbarsandstreaksofskywhichwererespondedtobysilvergleamsuponthelandscape,thelittlemanwhoworearedcapnow,inplaceofhisblueoneseemedfascinatedbythefigureontheheapofstones.Hiseyesweresooftenturnedtowardsit,thatheusedhistoolsmechanically,and,onewouldhavesaid,toverypooraccount.Thebronzeface,theshaggyblackhairandbeard,thecoarsewoollenredcap,theroughmedleydressofhome-spunstuffandhairyskinsofbeasts,thepowerfulframeattenuatedbyspareliving,andthesullenanddesperatecompressionofthelipsinsleep,inspiredthemenderofroadswithawe.Thetravellerhadtravelledfar,andhisfeetwerefootsore,andhisankleschafedandbleeding;hisgreatshoes,stuffedwithleavesandgrass,hadbeenheavytodragoverthemanylongleagues,andhisclotheswerechafedintoholes,ashehimselfwasintosores.Stoopingdownbesidehim,theroad-mendertriedtogetapeepatsecretweaponsinhisbreastorwherenot;but,invain,forhesleptwithhisarmscrosseduponhim,andsetasresolutelyashislips.Fortifiedtownswiththeirstockades,guard-houses,gates,trenches,anddrawbridges,seemedtothemenderofroads,tobesomuchairasagainstthisfigure.Andwhenheliftedhiseyesfromittothehorizonandlookedaround,hesawinhissmallfancysimilarfigures,stoppedbynoobstacle,tendingtocentresalloverFrance.
　　Themanslepton,indifferenttoshowersofhailandintervalsofbrightness,tosunshineonhisfaceandshadow,tothepatteringlumpsofdulliceonhisbodyandthediamondsintowhichthesunchangedthem,untilthesunwaslowinthewest,andtheskywasglowing.Then,themenderofroadshavinggothistoolstogetherandallthingsreadytogodownintothevillage,rousedhim.
　　`Good!'saidthesleeper,risingonhiselbow.`Twoleaguesbeyondthesummitofthehill?'
　　`About.'
　　`About.Good!'
　　Themenderofroadswenthome,withthedustgoingonbeforehimaccordingtothesetofthewind,andwassoonatthefountain,squeezinghimselfinamongtheleankinebroughttheretodrink,andappearingeventowhispertotheminhiswhisperingtoallthevillage.Whenthevillagehadtakenitspoorsupper,itdidnotcreeptobed,asitusuallydid,butcameoutofdoorsagain,andremainedthere.Acuriouscontagionofwhisperingwasuponit,andalso,whenitgatheredtogetheratthefountaininthedark,anothercuriouscontagionoflookingexpectantlyattheskyinonedirectiononly.MonsieurGabelle,chieffunctionaryoftheplace,becameuneasy;wentoutonhishouse-topalone,andlookedinthatdirectiontoo;glanceddownfrombehindhischimneysatthedarkeningfacesbythefountainbelow,andsentwordtothesacristanwhokeptthekeysofthechurch,thattheremightbeneedtoringthetocsinby-and-by.
　　Thenightdeepened.Thetreesenvironingtheoldchateau,keepingitssolitarystateapart,movedinarisingwind,asthoughtheythreatenedthepileofbuildingmassiveanddarkinthegloom.Upthetwoterraceflightsofstepstherainranwildly,andbeatatthegreatdoor,likeaswiftmessengerrousingthosewithin;uneasyrushesofwindwentthroughthehall,amongtheoldspearsandknives,andpassedlamentingupthestairs,andshookthecurtainsofthebedwherethelastMarquishadslept.East,West,North,andSouth,throughthewoods,fourheavy-treading,unkemptfigurescrushedthehighgrassandcrackedthebranches,stridingoncautiouslytocometogetherinthecourtyard.Fourlightsbrokeoutthere,andmovedawayindifferentdirections,andallwasblackagain.
　　But,notforlong.Presently,thechateaubegantomakeitselfstrangelyvisiblebysomelightofitsown,asthoughitweregrowingluminous.Then,aflickeringstreakplayedbehindthearchitectureofthefront,pickingouttransparentplaces,andshowingwherebalustrades,arches,andwindowswere.Thenitsoaredhigher,andgrewbroaderandbrighter.Soon,fromascoreofthegreatwindows,flamesburstforth,andthestonefacesawakened,staredoutoffire.
　　Afaintmurmuraroseaboutthehousefromthefewpeoplewhowereleftthere,andtherewasasaddlingofahorseandridingaway.Therewasspurringandsplashingthroughthedarkness,andbridlewasdrawninthespacebythevillagefountain,andthehorseinafoamstoodatMonsieurGabelle'sdoor.`Help,Gabelle!Help,everyone!'Thetocsinrangimpatiently,butotherhelpifthatwereanytherewasnone.Themenderofroads,andtwohundredandfiftyparticularfriends,stoodwithfoldedarmsatthefountain,lookingatthepillaroffireinthesky.`Itmustbefortyfeethigh,'saidthey,grimly;andnevermoved.
　　Theriderfromthechateau,andthehorseinafoam,clatteredawaythroughthevillage,andgallopedupthestonysteep,totheprisononthecrag.Atthegate,agroupofofficerswerelookingatthefire;removedfromthem,agroupofsoldiers.`Help,gentlemen-officers!Thechateauisonfire;valuableobjectsmaybesavedfromtheflamesbytimelyaid!Help,help!'Theofficerslookedtowardsthesoldierswholookedatthefire;gavenoorders;andanswered,withshrugsandbitingoflips,`Itmustburn.'
　　Astheriderrattleddownthehillagainandthroughthestreet,thevillagewasilluminating.Themenderofroads,andthetwohundredandfiftyparticularfriends,inspiredasonemanandwomanbytheideaoflightingup,haddartedintotheirhouses,andwereputtingcandlesineverydulllittlepaneofglass.Thegeneralscarcityofeverything,occasionedcandlestobeborrowedinaratherperemptorymannerofMonsieurGabelle;andinamomentofreluctanceandhesitationonthatfunctionary'spart,themenderofroads,oncesosubmissivetoauthority,hadremarkedthatcarriagesweregoodtomakebonfireswith,andthatpost-horseswouldroast.
　　Thechateauwaslefttoitselftoflameandburn.Intheroaringandragingoftheconflagration,ared-hotwind,drivingstraightfromtheinfernalregions,seemedtobeblowingtheedificeaway.Withtherisingandfallingoftheblaze,thestonefacesshowedasiftheywereintorment.Whengreatmassesofstoneandtimberfell,thefacewiththetwodintsinthenosebecameobscured:anonstruggledoutofthesmokeagain,asifitwerethefaceofthecruelMarquis,burningatthestakeandcontendingwiththefire.
　　Thechateauburned;thenearesttrees,laidholdofbythefire,scorchedandshrivelled;treesatadistance,firedbythefourfiercefigures,begirttheblazingedificewithanewforestofsmoke.Moltenleadandironboiledinthemarblebasinofthefountain;thewaterrandry;theextinguishertopsofthetowersvanishedlikeicebeforetheheat,andtrickleddownintofourruggedwellsofflame.Greatrentsandsplitsbranchedoutinthesolidwalls,likecrystallisation;stupefiedbirdswheeledaboutanddroppedintothefurnace;fourfiercefigurestrudgedaway,East,West,North,andSouth,alongthenight-enshroudedroads,guidedbythebeacontheyhadlighted,towardstheirnextdestination.Theilluminatedvillagehadseizedholdofthetocsin,and,abolishingthelawfulringer,rangforjoy.
　　Notonlythat;butthevillage,light-headedwithfamine,fire,andbell-ringing,andbethinkingitselfthatMonsieurGabellehadtodowiththecollectionofrentandtaxes——thoughitwasbutasmallinstalmentoftaxes,andnorentatall,thatGabellehadgotinthoselatterdays——becameimpatientforaninterviewwithhim,and,surroundinghishouse,summonedhimtocomeforthforpersonalconference.Whereupon,MonsieurGabelledidheavilybarhisdoor,andretiretoholdcounselwithhimselfTheresultofthatconferencewas,thatGabelleagainwithdrewhimselftohishouse-topbehindhisstackofchimneys;thistimeresolved,ifhisdoorwasbrokeninhewasasmallSouthernmanofretaliativetemperament,topitchhimselfheadforemostovertheparapet,andcrushamanortwobelow.
　　Probably,MonsieurGabellepassedalongnightupthere,withthedistantchateauforfireandcandle,andthebeatingathisdoor,combinedwiththejoy-ringing,formusic;nottomentionhishavinganill-omenedlampslungacrosstheroadbeforehisposting-housegate,whichthevillageshowedalivelyinclinationtodisplaceinhisfavour.Atryingsuspense,tobepassingawholesummernightonthebrinkoftheblackocean,readytotakethatplungeintoituponwhichMonsieurGabellehadresolvedBut,thefriendlydawnappearingatlast,andtherush-candlesofthevillagegutteringout,thepeoplehappilydispersed,andMonsieurGabellecamedownbringinghislifewithhimforthatwhile.
　　Withinahundredmiles,andinthelightofotherfires,therewereotherfunctionarieslessfortunate,thatnightandothernights,whomtherisingsunfoundhangingacrossonce-peacefulstreets,wheretheyhadbeenbornandbred;also,therewereothervillagersandtownspeoplelessfortunatethanthemenderofroadsandhisfellows,uponwhomthefunctionariesandsoldieryturnedwithsuccess,andwhomtheystrungupintheirturn.But,thefiercefiguresweresteadilywendingEast,West,North,andSouth,bethatasitwould;andwhosoeverhung,fireburned.Thealtitudeofthegallowsthatwouldturntowaterandquenchit,nofunctionary,byanystretchofmathematics,wasabletocalculatesuccessfully.
　　CHAPTERXXIV
　　DraintotheLoadstoneRock
　　Insuchrisingsoffireandrisingsofsea——thefirmearthshakenbytherushesofanangryoceanwhichhadnownoebb,butwasalwaysontheflow,higherandhigher,tothetenorandwonderofthebeholdersontheshore——threeyearsoftempestwereconsumed.ThreemorebirthdaysoflittleLuciehadbeenwovenbythegoldenthreadintothepeacefultissueofthelifeofherhome.
　　Manyanightandmanyadayhaditsinmateslistenedtotheechoesinthecorner,withheartsthatfailedthemwhentheyheardthethrongingfeet.For,thefootstepshadbecometotheirmindsasthefootstepsofapeople,tumultuousunderaredflagandwiththeircountrydeclaredindanger,changedintowildbeasts,byterribleenchantmentlongpersistedin.
　　Monseigneur,asaclass,haddissociatedhimselffromthephenomenonofhisnotbeingappreciated:ofhisbeingsolittlewantedinFrance,astoincurconsiderabledangerofreceivinghisdismissalfromit,andthislifetogether.LikethefabledrusticwhoraisedtheDevilwithinfinitepains,andwassoterrifiedatthesightofhimthathecouldasktheEnemynoquestion,butimmediatelyfled;so,Monseigneur,afterboldlyreadingtheLord'sPrayerbackwardsforagreatnumberofyears,andperformingmanyotherpotentspellsforcompellingtheEvilOne,nosoonerbeheldhiminhisterrorsthanhetooktohisnobleheels.