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1Down, and up, and head foremost on the steps of the building; now, on his knees; now, on his feet; now, on his back;
2dragged, and struck at, and stifled by the bunches of grass and straw that were thrust into his face by hundreds of
3hands; torn, bruised, panting, bleeding, yet always entreating and beseeching for mercy; now full of vehement agony of
4action, with a small clear space about him as the people drew one another back that they might see; now, a log of dead
5wood drawn through a forest of legs; he was hauled to the nearest street corner where one of the fatal lamps swung, and
6there Madame Defarge let him go--as a cat might have done to a mouse--and silently and composedly looked at him while
7they made ready, and while he besought her: the women passionately screeching at him all the time, and the men sternly
8calling out to have him killed with grass in his mouth. Once, he went aloft, and the rope broke, and they caught him
9shrieking; twice, he went aloft, and the rope broke, and they caught him shrieking; then, the rope was merciful, and
10held him, and his head was soon upon a pike, with grass enough in the mouth for all Saint Antoine to dance at the sight
11of. Nor was this the end of the day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so shouted and danced his angry blood up, that it
12boiled again, on hearing when the day closed in that the son-in-law of the despatched, another of the people's enemies
13and insulters, was coming into Paris under a guard five hundred strong, in cavalry alone. Saint Antoine wrote his crimes
14on flaring sheets of paper, seized him--would have torn him out of the breast of an army to bear Foulon company--set his
15head and heart on pikes, and carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession through the streets. Not before
16dark night did the men and women come back to the children, wailing and breadless. Then, the miserable bakers' shops
17were beset by long files of them, patiently waiting to buy bad bread; and while they waited with stomachs faint and
18empty, they beguiled the time by embracing one another on the triumphs of the day, and achieving them again in gossip.
19Gradually, these strings of ragged people shortened and frayed away; and then poor lights began to shine in high
20windows, and slender fires were made in the streets, at which neighbours cooked in common, afterwards supping at their
21doors. Scanty and insufficient suppers those, and innocent of meat, as of most other sauce to wretched bread. Yet, human
22fellowship infused some nourishment into the flinty viands, and struck some sparks of cheerfulness out of them. Fathers
23and mothers who had had their full share in the worst of the day, played gently with their meagre children; and lovers,
24with such a world around them and before them, loved and hoped. It was almost morning, when Defarge's wine-shop parted
25with its last knot of customers, and Monsieur Defarge said to madame his wife, in husky tones, while fastening the door:
26"At last it is come, my dear!" "Eh well!" returned madame. "Almost." Saint Antoine slept, the Defarges slept: even The
27Vengeance slept with her starved grocer, and the drum was at rest. The drum's was the only voice in Saint Antoine that
28blood and hurry had not changed. The Vengeance, as custodian of the drum, could have wakened him up and had the same
29speech out of him as before the Bastille fell, or old Foulon was seized; not so with the hoarse tones of the men and
30women in Saint Antoine's bosom.
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