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1Looked out upon a throng of men and women: not enough in number, or near enough, to fill the courtyard: not more than
2forty or fifty in all. The people in possession of the house had let them in at the gate, and they had rushed in to work
3at the grindstone; it had evidently been set up there for their purpose, as in a convenient and retired spot. But, such
4awful workers, and such awful work! The grindstone had a double handle, and, turning at it madly were two men, whose
5faces, as their long hair flapped back when the whirlings of the grindstone brought their faces up, were more horrible
6and cruel than the visages of the wildest savages in their most barbarous disguise. False eyebrows and false moustaches
7were stuck upon them, and their hideous countenances were all bloody and sweaty, and all awry with howling, and all
8staring and glaring with beastly excitement and want of sleep. As these ruffians turned and turned, their matted locks
9now flung forward over their eyes, now flung backward over their necks, some women held wine to their mouths that they
10might drink; and what with dropping blood, and what with dropping wine, and what with the stream of sparks struck out of
11the stone, all their wicked atmosphere seemed gore and fire. The eye could not detect one creature in the group free
12from the smear of blood. Shouldering one another to get next at the sharpening-stone, were men stripped to the waist,
13with the stain all over their limbs and bodies; men in all sorts of rags, with the stain upon those rags; men devilishly
14set off with spoils of women's lace and silk and ribbon, with the stain dyeing those trifles through and through.
15Hatchets, knives, bayonets, swords, all brought to be sharpened, were all red with it. Some of the hacked swords were
16tied to the wrists of those who carried them, with strips of linen and fragments of dress: ligatures various in kind,
17but all deep of the one colour. And as the frantic wielders of these weapons snatched them from the stream of sparks and
18tore away into the streets, the same red hue was red in their frenzied eyes;--eyes which any unbrutalised beholder would
19have given twenty years of life, to petrify with a well-directed gun. All this was seen in a moment, as the vision of a
20drowning man, or of any human creature at any very great pass, could see a world if it were there. They drew back from
21the window, and the Doctor looked for explanation in his friend's ashy face. "They are," Mr. Lorry whispered the words,
22glancing fearfully round at the locked room, "murdering the prisoners. If you are sure of what you say; if you really
23have the power you think you have--as I believe you have--make yourself known to these devils, and get taken to La
24Force. It may be too late, I don't know, but let it not be a minute later!" Doctor Manette pressed his hand, hastened
25bareheaded out of the room, and was in the courtyard when Mr. Lorry regained the blind. His streaming white hair, his
26remarkable face, and the impetuous confidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water, carried him in an
27instant to the heart of the concourse at the stone. For a few moments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmur, and
28the unintelligible sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw him, surrounded by all, and in the midst of a line of
29twenty men long, all linked shoulder to shoulder, and hand to shoulder, hurried out with cries of--"Live the Bastille
30prisoner! Help for the Bastille prisoner's kindred in La Force! Room for the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save the
31prisoner Evrémonde at La Force!" and a thousand answering shouts. He closed the lattice again with a fluttering heart,
32closed the window and the curtain, hastened to Lucie, and told her that her father was assisted by the people, and gone
33in search of her husband. He found her child and Miss Pross with her; but, it never occurred to him to be surprised by
34their appearance until a long time afterwards, when he sat watching them in such quiet as the night knew. Lucie had, by
35that time, fallen into a stupor on the floor at his feet, clinging to his hand. Miss Pross had laid the child down on
36his own bed, and her head had gradually fallen on the pillow beside her pretty charge. O the long, long night, with the
37moans of the poor wife! And O the long, long night, with no return of her father and no tidings! Twice more in the
38darkness the bell at the great gate sounded, and the irruption was repeated, and the grindstone whirled and spluttered.
39"What is it?" cried Lucie, affrighted. "Hush! The soldiers' swords are sharpened there," said Mr. Lorry. "The place is
40national property now, and used as a kind of armoury, my love." Twice more in all; but, the last spell of work was
41feeble and fitful. Soon afterwards the day began to dawn, and he softly detached himself from the clasping hand, and
42cautiously looked out again. A man, so besmeared that he might have been a sorely wounded soldier creeping back to
43consciousness on a field of slain, was rising from the pavement by the side of the grindstone, and looking about him
44with a vacant air. Shortly, this worn-out murderer descried in the imperfect light one of the carriages of Monseigneur,
45and, staggering to that gorgeous vehicle, climbed in at the door, and shut himself up to take his rest on its dainty
46cushions. The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, and the sun was red on the courtyard.
47But, the lesser grindstone stood alone there in the calm morning air, with a red upon it that the sun had never given,
48and would never take away.
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