有声名著之双城记Book2 Chapter15

　　有声名著之双城记

      CHAPTER XVKnitting

        THERE had been earlier drinking than usual in the wine shop ofMonsieur Defarge. As early as six o'clock in the morning,sallow faces peeping through its barred windows had descriedother faces within, bending over measures of wine. MonsieurDefarge sold a very thin wine at the best of times, but itwould seem to have been an unusually thin wine that he sold atthis time. A sour wine, moreover, or a souring, for itsinfluence on the mood of those who drank it was to make themgloomy. No vivacious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of thepressed grape of monsieur Defarge: but, a smouldering firethat burnt in the dark, lay hidden in the dregs of it.

　　This had been the third morning in succession, on which therehad been early drinking at the wine-shop of Monsieur Defarge.

　　It had begun on Monday, and here was Wednesday come. There hadbeen more of early brooding than drinking; for, many men hadlistened and whispered and slunk about there from the time ofthe opening of the door, who could not ave laid a Piece ofmoney on the counter to save their souls. These were to thefull as interested in the place, however, as if they couldhave commanded whole barrels of wine; and they glided fromseat to seat, and from corner to corner, swallowing talk inlieu of drink, with greedy looks.

　　Notwithstanding an unusual flow of company, the master of thewine-shop was not visible. He was not missed; for, nobody whocrossed 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 ofbattered small coins before her, as much defaced and beatenout of their original impress as the small coinage of humanityfrom whose ragged pockets they had come.

　　A suspended interest and a prevalent absence of mind, wereperhaps observed by the spies who looked in at the wine-shop,as they looked in at every place, high and low, from theking's palace to the criminal's gaol. Games at cardslanguished, players at dominoes musingly built towers withthem, drinkers drew figures on the tables with spilt drops ofwine, Madame Defarge herself picked out the pattern on hersleeve with her toothpick, and saw and heard somethinginaudible and invisible a long way off.

　　Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous feature of his, untilmidday. It was high noontide, when two dusty men passedthrough his streets and under his swinging lamps: of whom, onewas Monsieur Defarge: the other a mender of roads in a bluecap. All adust and athirst, the two entered the wine-shop.

　　Their arrival had lighted a kind of fire in the breast ofSaint Antoine, fast spreading as they came along, whichstirred and flickered in flames of faces at most doors andwindows. Yet, no one had followed them, and no man spoke whenthey entered the wine-shop, though the eyes of every man therewere 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 hishead. Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and thenall cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, whogot up and went out.

　　`My wife,' said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: `Ihave travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads,called Jacques. I met him--by accident--a day an half'sjourney Out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender ofroads, called Jacques. Give him to drink, my wife!'

　　A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set winebefore the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his bluecap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse hecarried some coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles,and sat munching and drinking near Madame Defarge's counter. Athird man got up and went out.

　　Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine--but, hetook less than was given to the stranger, as being himself aman to whom it was no rarity--and stood waiting until thecountryman had made his breakfast. He looked at no onepresent, and no one now looked at him; not even MadameDefarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work.

　　`Have you finished your repast, friend?' he asked, in dueseason.

　　`Yes, thank you.'

　　`Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you youcould occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.'

　　Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street intoa courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out ofthe staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where awhite-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and verybusy, making shoes.

　　No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men werethere who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And betweenthem and the white-haired man afar off, was the one smalllink, that they had once looked in at him through the chinksin the wail.

　　Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subduedvoice:

　　`Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witnessencountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four.

　　He will tell you all. Speak, Jacques Five!

　　The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthyforehead 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, ayear ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of theMarquis, hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of it. Ileaving my work on the road, the sun going to bed, thecarriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hangingby 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, seeingthat it had been the infallible resource and indispensableentertainment of his village during a whole year.

　　Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the manbefore?

　　`Never,' answered the mender of roads, recovering hisperpendicular.

　　Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then?

　　`By his tall figure,' said the mender of roads, softly, andwith his finger at his nose. `When Monsieur the Marquisdemands that evening,, ``Say, what is he like?'' I makeresponse, ``Tall as a spectre.'''

　　`You should have said, short as a dwarf,' returned JacquesTwo.

　　`But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished,neither did he confide in me. Observe! Under thosecircumstances even, I do not offer my testimony. Monsieur theMarquis indicates me with his finger, standing near our littlefountain, and says, ``To me! Bring that rascal!'' My faith,messieurs, I offer nothing.'

　　`He is right there, Jacques,' murmured Defarge, to him whohad 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 hillside, and the sun is againabout to go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to mycottage down in the village below, where it is already dark,when I raise my eyes, and see coming over the hill sixsoldiers. In the midst of them is a tall man with his armsbound--tied to his sides--like this!'

　　With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a manwith his elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that wereknotted behind him.

　　`I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see thesoldiers and their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road,that, where any spectacle is well worth looking at), and atfirst, as they approach, I see no more than that they are sixsoldiers with a tall man bound, and that they are almost blackto my sight--except on the side of the sun going to bed wherethey have a red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that their longshadows are on the hollow ridge on the opposite side of theroad, and are on the hill above it, and are like the shadowsof giants. Also, I see that they are covered with dust, andthat the dust moves with them as they come, tramp, tramp! Butwhen they advance quite near to me, I recognise the tall man,and he recognises me. Ah, but he would be well content toprecipitate himself over the hillside once again, as on theevening when he and I first encountered, close to the samespot!'