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1Dress was the one unfailing talisman and charm used for keeping all things in their places. Everybody was dressed for a
2Fancy Ball that was never to leave off. From the Palace of the Tuileries, through Monseigneur and the whole Court,
3through the Chambers, the Tribunals of Justice, and all society (except the scarecrows), the Fancy Ball descended to the
4Common Executioner: who, in pursuance of the charm, was required to officiate "frizzled, powdered, in a gold-laced coat,
5pumps, and white silk stockings." At the gallows and the wheel--the axe was a rarity--Monsieur Paris, as it was the
6episcopal mode among his brother Professors of the provinces, Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, to call him, presided in
7this dainty dress. And who among the company at Monseigneur's reception in that seventeen hundred and eightieth year of
8our Lord, could possibly doubt, that a system rooted in a frizzled hangman, powdered, gold-laced, pumped, and white-silk
9stockinged, would see the very stars out! Monseigneur having eased his four men of their burdens and taken his
10chocolate, caused the doors of the Holiest of Holiests to be thrown open, and issued forth. Then, what submission, what
11cringing and fawning, what servility, what abject humiliation! As to bowing down in body and spirit, nothing in that way
12was left for Heaven--which may have been one among other reasons why the worshippers of Monseigneur never troubled it.
13Bestowing a word of promise here and a smile there, a whisper on one happy slave and a wave of the hand on another,
14Monseigneur affably passed through his rooms to the remote region of the Circumference of Truth. There, Monseigneur
15turned, and came back again, and so in due course of time got himself shut up in his sanctuary by the chocolate sprites,
16and was seen no more. The show being over, the flutter in the air became quite a little storm, and the precious little
17bells went ringing downstairs. There was soon but one person left of all the crowd, and he, with his hat under his arm
18and his snuff-box in his hand, slowly passed among the mirrors on his way out. "I devote you," said this person,
19stopping at the last door on his way, and turning in the direction of the sanctuary, "to the Devil!" With that, he shook
20the snuff from his fingers as if he had shaken the dust from his feet, and quietly walked downstairs. He was a man of
21about sixty, handsomely dressed, haughty in manner, and with a face like a fine mask. A face of a transparent paleness;
22every feature in it clearly defined; one set expression on it. The nose, beautifully formed otherwise, was very slightly
23pinched at the top of each nostril. In those two compressions, or dints, the only little change that the face ever
24showed, resided. They persisted in changing colour sometimes, and they would be occasionally dilated and contracted by
25something like a faint pulsation; then, they gave a look of treachery, and cruelty, to the whole countenance. Examined
26with attention, its capacity of helping such a look was to be found in the line of the mouth, and the lines of the
27orbits of the eyes, being much too horizontal and thin; still, in the effect of the face made, it was a handsome face,
28and a remarkable one. Its owner went downstairs into the courtyard, got into his carriage, and drove away. Not many
29people had talked with him at the reception; he had stood in a little space apart, and Monseigneur might have been
30warmer in his manner. It appeared, under the circumstances, rather agreeable to him to see the common people dispersed
31before his horses, and often barely escaping from being run down. His man drove as if he were charging an enemy, and the
32furious recklessness of the man brought no check into the face, or to the lips, of the master. The complaint had
33sometimes made itself audible, even in that deaf city and dumb age, that, in the narrow streets without footways, the
34fierce patrician custom of hard driving endangered and maimed the mere vulgar in a barbarous manner. But, few cared
35enough for that to think of it a second time, and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretches were left to
36get out of their difficulties as they could. With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of consideration
37not easy to be understood in these days, the carriage dashed through streets and swept round corners, with women
38screaming before it, and men clutching each other and clutching children out of its way. At last, swooping at a street
39corner by a fountain, one of its wheels came to a sickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a number of
40voices, and the horses reared and plunged. But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably would not have
41stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, and leave their wounded behind, and why not? But the frightened valet
42had got down in a hurry, and there were twenty hands at the horses' bridles. "What has gone wrong?" said Monsieur,
43calmly looking out. A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from among the feet of the horses, and had laid it
44on the basement of the fountain, and was down in the mud and wet, howling over it like a wild animal. "Pardon, Monsieur
45the Marquis!" said a ragged and submissive man, "it is a child." "Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his
46child?" "Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis--it is a pity--yes." The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened,
47where it was, into a space some ten or twelve yards square. As the tall man suddenly got up from the ground, and came
48running at the carriage, Monsieur the Marquis clapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt. "Killed!" shrieked the
49man, in wild desperation, extending both arms at their length above his head, and staring at him. "Dead!" The people
50closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis. There was nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at him but
51watchfulness and eagerness; there was no visible menacing or anger. Neither did the people say anything; after the first
52cry, they had been silent, and they remained so. The voice of the submissive man who had spoken, was flat and tame in
53its extreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their
54holes. He took out his purse. "It is extraordinary to me," said he, "that you people cannot take care of yourselves and
55your 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!
56Give him that." He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads craned forward that all the eyes
57might look down at it as it fell. The tall man called out again with a most unearthly cry, "Dead!" He was arrested by
58the quick arrival of another man, for whom the rest made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fell upon his
59shoulder, sobbing and crying, and pointing to the fountain, where some women were stooping over the motionless bundle,
60and moving gently about it. They were as silent, however, as the men. "I know all, I know all," said the last comer. "Be
61a brave man, my Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than to live. It has died in a moment
62without pain. Could it have lived an hour as happily?" "You are a philosopher, you there," said the Marquis, smiling.
63"How do they call you?" "They call me Defarge." "Of what trade?" "Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine." "Pick up that,
64philosopher and vendor of wine," said the Marquis, throwing him another gold coin, "and spend it as you will. The horses
65there; are they right?" Without deigning to look at the assemblage a second time, Monsieur the Marquis leaned back in
66his seat, and was just being driven away with the air of a gentleman who had accidentally broke some common thing, and
67had paid for it, and could afford to pay for it; when his ease was suddenly disturbed by a coin flying into his
68carriage, and ringing on its floor. "Hold!" said Monsieur the Marquis. "Hold the horses! Who threw that?" He looked to
69the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine had stood, a moment before; but the wretched father was grovelling on his face
70on the pavement in that spot, and the figure that stood beside him was the figure of a dark stout woman, knitting.
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