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1Such a staircase, with its accessories, in the older and more crowded parts of Paris, would be bad enough now; but, at
2that time, it was vile indeed to unaccustomed and unhardened senses. Every little habitation within the great foul nest
3of one high building--that is to say, the room or rooms within every door that opened on the general staircase--left its
4own heap of refuse on its own landing, besides flinging other refuse from its own windows. The uncontrollable and
5hopeless mass of decomposition so engendered, would have polluted the air, even if poverty and deprivation had not
6loaded it with their intangible impurities; the two bad sources combined made it almost insupportable. Through such an
7atmosphere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt and poison, the way lay. Yielding to his own disturbance of mind, and to his
8young companion's agitation, which became greater every instant, Mr. Jarvis Lorry twice stopped to rest. Each of these
9stoppages was made at a doleful grating, by which any languishing good airs that were left uncorrupted, seemed to
10escape, and all spoilt and sickly vapours seemed to crawl in. Through the rusted bars, tastes, rather than glimpses,
11were caught of the jumbled neighbourhood; and nothing within range, nearer or lower than the summits of the two great
12towers of Notre-Dame, had any promise on it of healthy life or wholesome aspirations. At last, the top of the staircase
13was gained, and they stopped for the third time. There was yet an upper staircase, of a steeper inclination and of
14contracted dimensions, to be ascended, before the garret story was reached. The keeper of the wine-shop, always going a
15little in advance, and always going on the side which Mr. Lorry took, as though he dreaded to be asked any question by
16the young lady, turned himself about here, and, carefully feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried over his
17shoulder, took out a key. "The door is locked then, my friend?" said Mr. Lorry, surprised. "Ay. Yes," was the grim reply
18of Monsieur Defarge. "You think it necessary to keep the unfortunate gentleman so retired?" "I think it necessary to
19turn the key." Monsieur Defarge whispered it closer in his ear, and frowned heavily. "Why?" "Why! Because he has lived
20so long, locked up, that he would be frightened--rave--tear himself to pieces--die--come to I know not what harm--if his
21door was left open." "Is it possible!" exclaimed Mr. Lorry. "Is it possible!" repeated Defarge, bitterly. "Yes. And a
22beautiful world we live in, when it is possible, and when many other such things are possible, and not only possible,
23but done--done, see you!--under that sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on." This dialogue had been
24held in so very low a whisper, that not a word of it had reached the young lady's ears. But, by this time she trembled
25under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety, and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr.
26Lorry felt it incumbent on him to speak a word or two of reassurance. "Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst
27will be over in a moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then, all the good you bring to him,
28all the relief, all the happiness you bring to him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side. That's
29well, friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!" They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they
30were soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at once in sight of three men, whose heads
31were bent down close together at the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to which the door
32belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On hearing footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose,
33and showed themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking in the wine-shop. "I forgot them in the surprise
34of your visit," explained Monsieur Defarge. "Leave us, good boys; we have business here." The three glided by, and went
35silently down. There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of the wine-shop going straight to this
36one when they were left alone, Mr. Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger: "Do you make a show of Monsieur
37Manette?" "I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few." "Is that well?" "I think it is well." "Who are the
38few? How do you choose them?" "I choose them as real men, of my name--Jacques is my name--to whom the sight is likely to
39do good. Enough; you are English; that is another thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment." With an admonitory
40gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he
41struck twice or thrice upon the door--evidently with no other object than to make a noise there. With the same
42intention, he drew the key across it, three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned it as
43heavily as he could. The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into the room and said something. A
44faint voice answered something. Little more than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side. He looked back
45over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr. Lorry got his arm securely round the daughter's waist, and held her;
46for he felt that she was sinking. "A-a-a-business, business!" he urged, with a moisture that was not of business shining
47on his cheek. "Come in, come in!" "I am afraid of it," she answered, shuddering. "Of it? What?" "I mean of him. Of my
48father." Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of their conductor, he drew over his neck the
49arm that shook upon his shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her down just within the
50door, and held her, clinging to him. Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside, took out the
51key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did, methodically, and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise
52as he could make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to where the window was. He stopped there,
53and faced round. The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim and dark: for, the window of
54dormer shape, was in truth a door in the roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from the
55street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any other door of French construction. To exclude the
56cold, one half of this door was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way. Such a scanty portion of
57light was admitted through these means, that it was difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit alone
58could have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that
59kind was being done in the garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face towards the window where the keeper
60of the wine-shop stood looking at him, a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making
61shoes.
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