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1In a city dominated by the axe, alone at night, with natural sorrow rising in him for the sixty-three who had been that
2day put to death, and for to-morrow's victims then awaiting their doom in the prisons, and still of to-morrow's and
3to-morrow's, the chain of association that brought the words home, like a rusty old ship's anchor from the deep, might
4have been easily found. He did not seek it, but repeated them and went on. With a solemn interest in the lighted windows
5where the people were going to rest, forgetful through a few calm hours of the horrors surrounding them; in the towers
6of the churches, where no prayers were said, for the popular revulsion had even travelled that length of
7self-destruction from years of priestly impostors, plunderers, and profligates; in the distant burial-places, reserved,
8as they wrote upon the gates, for Eternal Sleep; in the abounding gaols; and in the streets along which the sixties
9rolled to a death which had become so common and material, that no sorrowful story of a haunting Spirit ever arose among
10the people out of all the working of the Guillotine; with a solemn interest in the whole life and death of the city
11settling down to its short nightly pause in fury; Sydney Carton crossed the Seine again for the lighter streets. Few
12coaches were abroad, for riders in coaches were liable to be suspected, and gentility hid its head in red nightcaps, and
13put on heavy shoes, and trudged. But, the theatres were all well filled, and the people poured cheerfully out as he
14passed, and went chatting home. At one of the theatre doors, there was a little girl with a mother, looking for a way
15across the street through the mud. He carried the child over, and before the timid arm was loosed from his neck asked
16her for a kiss. "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet
17shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die." Now, that the streets were quiet, and the
18night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes
19repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always. The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge
20listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses
21and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then,
22the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were
23delivered over to Death's dominion. But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the
24night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a
25bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it. The strong tide, so
26swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from
27the houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the bank. When he awoke and was afoot again, he
28lingered there yet a little longer, watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the stream absorbed it,
29and carried it on to the sea.--"Like me." A trading-boat, with a sail of the softened colour of a dead leaf, then glided
30into his view, floated by him, and died away. As its silent track in the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken
31up out of his heart for a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, ended in the words, "I am the
32resurrection and the life." Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back, and it was easy to surmise where the good old
33man was gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing but a little coffee, ate some bread, and, having washed and changed to refresh
34himself, went out to the place of trial. The court was all astir and a-buzz, when the black sheep--whom many fell away
35from in dread--pressed him into an obscure corner among the crowd. Mr. Lorry was there, and Doctor Manette was there.
36She was there, sitting beside her father. When her husband was brought in, she turned a look upon him, so sustaining, so
37encouraging, so full of admiring love and pitying tenderness, yet so courageous for his sake, that it called the healthy
38blood into his face, brightened his glance, and animated his heart. If there had been any eyes to notice the influence
39of her look, on Sydney Carton, it would have been seen to be the same influence exactly. Before that unjust Tribunal,
40there was little or no order of procedure, ensuring to any accused person any reasonable hearing. There could have been
41no such Revolution, if all laws, forms, and ceremonies, had not first been so monstrously abused, that the suicidal
42vengeance of the Revolution was to scatter them all to the winds. Every eye was turned to the jury. The same determined
43patriots and good republicans as yesterday and the day before, and to-morrow and the day after. Eager and prominent
44among them, one man with a craving face, and his fingers perpetually hovering about his lips, whose appearance gave
45great satisfaction to the spectators. A life-thirsting, cannibal-looking, bloody-minded juryman, the Jacques Three of
46St. Antoine. The whole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try the deer. Every eye then turned to the five judges and
47the public prosecutor. No favourable leaning in that quarter to-day. A fell, uncompromising, murderous business-meaning
48there. Every eye then sought some other eye in the crowd, and gleamed at it approvingly; and heads nodded at one
49another, before bending forward with a strained attention. Charles Evrémonde, called Darnay. Released yesterday.
50Reaccused and retaken yesterday. Indictment delivered to him last night. Suspected and Denounced enemy of the Republic,
51Aristocrat, one of a family of tyrants, one of a race proscribed, for that they had used their abolished privileges to
52the infamous oppression of the people. Charles Evrémonde, called Darnay, in right of such proscription, absolutely Dead
53in Law. To this effect, in as few or fewer words, the Public Prosecutor. The President asked, was the Accused openly
54denounced or secretly? "Openly, President." "By whom?" "Three voices. Ernest Defarge, wine-vendor of St. Antoine."
55"Good." "Thérèse Defarge, his wife." "Good." "Alexandre Manette, physician." A great uproar took place in the court, and
56in the midst of it, Doctor Manette was seen, pale and trembling, standing where he had been seated. "President, I
57indignantly protest to you that this is a forgery and a fraud. You know the accused to be the husband of my daughter. My
58daughter, and those dear to her, are far dearer to me than my life. Who and where is the false conspirator who says that
59I denounce the husband of my child!" "Citizen Manette, be tranquil. To fail in submission to the authority of the
60Tribunal 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
61citizen as the Republic." Loud acclamations hailed this rebuke. The President rang his bell, and with warmth resumed.
62"If the Republic should demand of you the sacrifice of your child herself, you would have no duty but to sacrifice her.
63Listen to what is to follow. In the meanwhile, be silent!" Frantic acclamations were again raised. Doctor Manette sat
64down, with his eyes looking around, and his lips trembling; his daughter drew closer to him. The craving man on the jury
65rubbed his hands together, and restored the usual hand to his mouth. Defarge was produced, when the court was quiet
66enough to admit of his being heard, and rapidly expounded the story of the imprisonment, and of his having been a mere
67boy in the Doctor's service, and of the release, and of the state of the prisoner when released and delivered to him.
68This short examination followed, for the court was quick with its work. "You did good service at the taking of the
69Bastille, citizen?" "I believe so." Here, an excited woman screeched from the crowd: "You were one of the best patriots
70there. Why not say so? You were a cannonier that day there, and you were among the first to enter the accursed fortress
71when it fell. Patriots, I speak the truth!"
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