双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第13部分

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o　answer；　that　they　took　fright　at　his　bewilderment；　and　agreed　for　the　time　to　tamper　with　him　no　more。　He　had　a　wild；　lost　manner　of　occasionally　clasping　his　head　in　his　hands；　that　had　not　been　seen　in　him　before；　yet；　he　had　some　pleasure　in　the　mere　sound　of　his　daughter's　voice；　and　invariably　turned　to　it　when　she　spoke。
In　the　submissive　way　of　one　long　accustomed　to　obey　under　coercion；　he　ate　and　drank　what　they　gave　him　to　eat　and　drink；　and　put　on　the　cloak　and　other　wrappings；　that　they　gave　him　to　wear。　He　readily　responded　to　his　daughter's　drawing　her　arm　through　his；　and　took……and　kept……her　hand　in　both　his　own。
They　began　to　descend；　Monsieur　Defarge　going　first　with　the　lamp；　Mr。　Lorry　closing　the　little　procession。　They　had　not　traversed　many　steps　of　the　long　main　staircase　when　he　stopped；　and　stared　at　the　roof　and　round　at　the　walls。
‘You　remember　the　place；　my　father？　You　remember　ing　up　here？
‘What　did　you　say？'
But；　before　she　could　repeat　the　question；　he　murmured　an　answer　as　if　she　had　repeated　it。
‘Remember？　No；　I　don't　remember。　It　was　so　very　long　ago。'
That　he　had　no　recollection　whatever　of　his　having　been　brought　from　his　prison　to　that　house；　was　apparent　to　them。　They　heard　him　mutter；　‘One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower；'　and　when　he　looked　about　him；　it　evidently　was　for　the　strong　fortress…walls　which　had　long　enpassed　him。　On　their　reaching　the　courtyard　he　instinctively　altered　his　tread；　as　being　in　expectation　of　a　drawbridge；　and　when　there　was　no　drawbridge；　and　he　saw　the　carriage　waiting　in　the　open　street；　he　dropped　his　daughter's　hand　and　clasped　his　head　again。
No　crowd　was　about　the　door；　no　people　were　discernible　at　any　of　the　many　windows；　not　even　a　chance　passer…by　was　in　the　street。　An　unnatural　silence　and　desertion　reigned　there。　Only　one　soul　has　to　be　seen；　and　that　was　Madame　Defarge……who　leaned　against　the　door…post；　knitting；　and　saw　nothing。
The　prisoner　had　got　into　a　coach；　and　his　daughter　had　followed　him；　when　Mr。　Lorry's　feet　were　arrested　on　the　step　by　his　asking；　miserably；　for　his　shoemaking　tools　and　the　unfinished　shoes。　Madame　Defarge　immediately　called　to　her　husband　that　she　would　get　them；　and　went；　knitting；　out　of　the　lamplight；　through　the　court…yard。　She　quickly　brought　them　down　and　handed　them　in　；……and　immediately　afterwards　leaned　against　the　door…post；　knitting；　and　saw　nothing。
Defarge　got　upon　the　box；　and　gave　the　word　‘To　the　Barrier！'　The　postilion　cracked　his　whip；　and　they　clattered　away　under　the　Feeble　over　swinging　lamps。
Under　the　over…swinging　lamps……swinging　ever　brighter　in　the　better　streets；　and　ever　dimmer　in　the　worse……and　by　lighted　shops；　gay　crowds；　illuminated　coffee…houses；　and　theatre…doors；　to　one　of　the　city　gates。　Soldiers　with　lanterns；　at　the　guard…house　there。　‘Your　papers；　travellers！'　‘See　here　then；　Monsieur　the　Officer；'　said　Defarge；　getting　down；　and　taking　him　gravely　apart；　‘these　are　the　papers　of　monsieur　inside；　with　the　white　head。　They　were　consigned　to　me；　with　him；　at　the………'　He　dropped　his　voice；　there　was　a　flutter　among　the　military　lanterns；　and　one　of　them　being　handed　into　the　coach　by　an　arm　in　uniform；　the　eyes　connected　with　the　arm　looked；　not　an　every…day　or　an　every…night　look；　at　monsieur　with　the　white　head。　‘It　is　well。　Forward！'　from　the　uniform。　‘Adieu！'　from　Defarge。　And　so；　under　a　short　grove　of　feebler　and　feebler　over　swinging　lamps；　out　under　the　great　grove　of　stars。
Beneath　that　arch　of　unmoved　and　eternal　lights；　some；　so　remote　from　this　little　earth　that　the　learned　tell　us　it　is　doubtful　whether　their　rays　have　even　yet　discovered　it；　as　a　point　in　space　where　anything　is　suffered　or　done：　the　shadows　of　the　night　were　broad　and　black。　All　through　the　cold　and　restless　interval；　until　dawn；　they　once　more　whispered　in　the　ears　of　Mr。　Jarvis　Lorry……sitting　opposite　the　buried　man　who　had　been　dug　out；　and　wondering　what　subtle　powers　were　for　ever　lost　to　him；　and　what　were　capable　of　restoration……the　old　inquiry：
‘I　hope　you　care　to　be　recalled　to　life？'
And　the　old　answer：
‘I　can't　say。'
THE　END　OF　THE　FIRST　BOOK　
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BOOK　THE　SECOND
THE　GOLDEN　THREAD
CHAPTER　I
Five　Years　Later
TELLSON'S　Bank　by　Temple　Bar　was　an　old…fashioned　place；　even　in　the　year　one　thousand　seven　hundred　and　eighty。　It　was　very　small；　very　dark；　very　ugly；　very　inmodious。　It　was　an　old…fashioned　place；　moreover；　in　the　moral　attribute　that　the　partners　in　the　House　were　proud　of　its　smallness；　proud　of　its　darkness；　proud　of　its　ugliness；　proud　of　its　inmodiousness。　They　were　even　boastful　of　its　eminence　in　those　particulars；　and　were　fired　by　an　empress　conviction　that；　if　it　were　less　objectionable；　it　would　be　less　respectable。　This　was　no　passive　belief；　but　an　active　weapon　which　they　flashed　at　more　convenient　places　of　business。　Tellson's　（they　said）　wanted　no　elbow…room；　Tellson's　wanted　no　light；　Tellson's　wanted　no　embellishment。　Noakes　and　Co。's　might；　or　Snooks　Brothers'　might；　but　Tellson's；　thank　Heaven！………
Any　one　of　these　partners　would　have　disinherited　his　son　on　the　question　of　rebuilding　Tellson's。　In　this　respect　the　House　was　much　on　a　par　with　the　Country；　which　did　very　often　disinherit　its　sons　for　suggesting　improvements　in　laws　and　customs　that　had　long　been　highly　objectionable；　but　were　only　the　more　respectable。
Thus　it　had　e　to　pass；　that　Tellson's　was　the　triumphant　perfection　of　inconvenience。　After　bursting　open　a　door　of　idiotic　obstinacy　with　a　weak　rattle　in　its　throat；　you　fell　into　Tellson's　down　two　steps；　and　came　to　your　senses　in　a　miser…able　little　shop；　with　two　little　counters；　where　the　oldest　of　men　made　your　cheque　shake　as　if　the　wind　rustled　it；　while　they　examined　the　signature　by　the　dingiest　of　windows；　which　were　always　under　a　shower…bath　of　mud　from　Fleet…street；　and　which　were　made　the　dingier　by　their　own　iron　bars　proper；　and　the　heavy　shadow　of　Temple　Bar。　If　your　business　necessitated　your　seeing　‘the　House；'　you　were　put　into　a　species　of　Condemned　Hold　at　the　back；　where　you　meditated　on　a　misspent　life；　until　the　House　came　with　its　hands　in　its　pockets；　and　you　could　hardly　blink　at　it　in　the　dismal　twilight。　Your　money　came　out　of'　or　went　into；　wormy　old　wooden　drawers；　particles　of　which　flew　up　your　nose　and　down　your　throat　when　they　were　opened　and　shut。　Your　bank…notes　had　a　musty　odour；　as　if　they　were　fast　deposing　into　rags　again。　Your　plate　was　stowed　away　among　the　neighbouring　cesspools；　and　evil　munications　corrupted　its　good　polish　in　a　day　or　two。　Your　deeds　got　into　extemporised　strong…rooms　made　of　kitchens　and　sculleries；　and　fretted　all　the　fat　out　of　their　parchments　into　the　banking　house　air。　Your　lighter　boxes　of　family　papers　went　up…stairs　into　a　Barmecide　room；　that　always　had　a　great　dining…table　in　it　and　never　had　a　dinner；　and　where；　even　in　the　year　one　thousand　seven　hundred　and　eighty；　the　first　letters　written　to　you　by　your　old　love；　or　by　your　little　children；　were　but　newly　released　from　the　horror　of　being　ogled　through　the　windows；　by　the　heads　exposed　on　Temple　Bar　with　an　insensate　brutality　and　ferocity　worthy　of　Abyssinia　or　Ashantee。
But　indeed；　at　that　time；　putting　to　death　was　a　recipe　much　in　vo