双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第70部分

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‘For　to…morrow！'
‘There　is　no　time　to　lose。　I　am　well　prepared；　but　there　are　precautions　to　be　taken；　that　could　not　be　taken　until　he　was　actually　summoned　before　the　Tribunal。　He　has　not　received　the　notice　yet；　but　I　know　that　he　will　presently　be　summoned　for　to…morrow；　and　removed　to　the　Conciergerie；　I　have　timely　information。　You　are　not　afraid？'
She　could　scarcely　answer；　‘I　trust　in　you。'
‘Do　so；　implicitly。　Your　suspense　is　nearly　ended；　my　darling；　he　shall　be　restored　to　you　within　a　few　hours；　I　have　enpassed　him　with　every　protection。　I　must　see　Lorry。'
He　stopped。　There　was　a　heavy　lumbering　of　wheels　within　hearing。　They　both　knew　too　well　what　it　meant。　One。　Two。　Three。　Three　tumbrils　faring　away　with　their　dread　loads　over　the　hushing　snow。
‘I　must　see　Lorry；'　the　Doctor　repeated；　turning　her　another　way。
The　staunch　old　gentleman　was　still　in　his　trust；　had　never　left　it。　He　and　his　books　were　in　frequent　requisition　as　to　property　confiscated　and　made　national。　What　he　could　save　for　the　owners；　he　saved。　No　better　man　living　to　hold　fast　by　what　Tellson's　had　in　keeping；　and　to　hold　his　peace。
A　murky　red　and　yellow　sky；　and　a　rising　mist　from　the　Seine；　denoted　the　approach　of　darkness。　It　was　almost　dark　when　they　arrived　at　the　Bank。　The　stately　residence　of　Monseigneur　was　altogether　blighted　and　deserted。　Above　a　heap　of　dust　and　ashes　in　the　court；　ran　the　letters：　National　Property。　Republic　One　and　Indivisible。　Liberty；　Equality；　Fraternity；　or　Death！
Who　could　that　be　with　Mr。　Lorry……the　Owner　of　the　riding…coat　upon　the　chair……who　must　not　be　seen？　From　whom　newly　arrived；　did　he　e　out；　agitated　and　surprised；　to　take　his　favourite　in　his　arms？　To　whom　did　he　appear　to　repeat　her　faltering　words；　when；　raising　his　voice　and　turning　his　head　towards　the　door　of　the　room　from　which　he　had　issued；　he　said：　‘Removed　to　the　Conciergerie；　and　summoned　for　to…morrow？'
CHAPTER　VI
Triumph
THE　dread　Tribunal　of　five　Judges；　Public　Prosecutor；　and　determined　Jury；　sat　every　day。　Their　lists　went　forth　every　evening；　and　were　read　out　by　the　gaolers　of　the　various　prisons　to　their　prisoners。　The　standard　gaoler…joke　was；　‘e　out　and　listen　to　the　Evening　Paper；　you　inside　there！'
‘Charles　Evrémonde；　called　Darnay！'　So　at　last　began　the　Evening　Paper　at　La　Force。
When　a　name　was　called；　its　owner　stepped　apart　into　a　spot　reserved　for　those　who　were　announced　as　being　thus　fatally　recorded。　Charles　Evrémonde；　called　Darnay；　had　reason　to　know　the　usage；　he　had　seen　hundreds　pass　away　so。
His　bloated　gaoler；　who　wore　spectacles　to　read　with；　glanced　over　them　to　assure　himself　that　he　had　taken　his　place；　and　went　through　the　list；　making　a　similar　short　pause　at　each　name。　There　were　twenty…three　names；　but　only　twenty　here　responded　to；　for　one　of　the　prisoners　so　summoned　had　died　in　gaol　and　been　forgotten；　and　two　had　already　been　guillotined　and　forgotten。　The　list　was　read；　in　the　vaulted　chamber　where　Darnay　had　seen　the　associated　prisoners　on　the　night　of　his　arrival。　Every　one　of　those　had　perished　in　the　massacre；　every　human　creature　he　had　since　cared　for　and　parted　with；　had　died　on　the　scaffold。
There　were　hurried　words　of　farewell　and　kindness；　but　the　parting　was　soon　over。　It　was　the　incident　of　every　day；　and　the　society　of　La　Force　were　engaged　in　the　preparation　of　some　games　of　forfeits　and　a　little　concert；　for　that　evening。　They　crowded　to　the　grates　and　shed　tears　there；　but；　twenty　places　in　the　projected　entertainments　had　to　be　refilled；　and　the　time　was；　at　best；　short　to　the　lock…up　hour；　when　the　mon　rooms　and　corridors　would　be　delivered　over　to　the　great　dogs　who　kept　watch　there　through　the　night。　The　prisoners　were　far　from　insensible　or　unfeeling；　their　ways　arose　out　of　the　condition　of　the　time。　Similarly；　though　with　a　subtle　difference；　a　species　of　fervour　or　intoxication；　known；　without　doubt；　to　have　led　some　persons　to　brave　the　guillotine　unnecessarily；　and　to　die　by　it；　was　not　mere　boastfulness；　but　a　wild　infection　of　the　wildly　shaken　public　mind。　In　seasons　of　pestilence；　some　of　us　will　have　a　secret　attraction　to　the　disease……a　terrible　passing　inclination　to　die　of　it。　And　all　of　us　have　like　wonders　hidden　in　our　breasts；　only　needing　circumstances　to　evoke　them。
The　passage　to　the　Conciergerie　was　short　and　dark；　the　night　in　its　vermin…haunted　cells　was　long　and　cold。　Next　day；　fifteen　prisoners　were　put　to　the　bar　before　Charles　Darnay's　name　was　called。　All　the　fifteen　were　condemned；　and　the　trials　of　the　whole　occupied　an　hour　and　a　half。
‘Charles　Evrémonde；　called　Darnay；'　was　at　length　arraigned。
His　judges　sat　upon　the　Bench　in　feathered　hats；　but　the　rough　red　cap　and　tricoloured　cockade　was　the　head…dress　otherwise　prevailing。　Looking　at　the　Jury　and　the　turbulent　audience；　he　might　have　thought　that　the　usual　order　of　things　was　reversed；　and　that　the　felons　were　trying　the　honest　men。　The　lowest；　cruelest；　and　worst　populace　of　a　city；　never　without　its　quantity　of　low；　cruel；　and　bad；　were　the　directing　spirits　of　the　scene：　noisily　menting；　applauding；　disapproving；　anticipating；　and　precipitating　the　result；　without　a　check。　Of　the　men；　the　greater　part　were　armed　in　various　ways；　of　the　women；　some　wore　knives；　some　daggers；　some　ate　and　drank　as　they　looked　on；　many　knitted。　Among　these　last；　was　one；　with　a　spare　piece　of　knitting　under　her　arm　as　she　worked。　She　was　in　a　front　row；　by　the　side　of　a　man　whom　he　had　never　seen　since　his　arrival　at　the　Barrier；　but　whom　he　directly　remembered　as　Defarge。　He　noticed　that　she　once　or　twice　whispered　in　his　ear；　and　that　she　seemed　to　be　his　wife；　but；　what　he　most　noticed　in　the　two　figures　was；　that　although　they　were　posted　as　close　to　himself　as　they　could　be；　they　never　looked　towards　him。　They　seemed　to　be　waiting　for　something　with　a　dogged　determination；　and　they　looked　at　the　Jury；　but　at　nothing　else。　Under　the　President　sat　Doctor　Manette；　in　his　usual　quiet　dress。　As　well　as　the　prisoner　could　see；　he　and　Mr。　Lorry　were　the　only　men　there；　unconnected　with　the　Tribunal；　who　wore　their　usual　clothes；　and　had　not　assumed　the　coarse　garb　of　the　Carmagnole。
Charles　Evrémonde；　called　Darnay；　was　accused　by　the　public　prosecutor　as　an　emigrant；　whose　life　was　forfeit　to　the　Republic；　under　the　decree　which　banished　all　emigrants　on　pain　of　Death。　It　was　nothing　that　the　decree　bore　date　since　his　return　to　France。　There　he　was；　and　there　was　the　decree；　he　had　been　taken　in　France；　and　his　head　was　demanded。
‘Take　off　his　head！'　cried　the　audience。　‘An　enemy　to　the　Republic！'
The　President　rang　his　bell　to　silence　those　cries；　and　asked　the　prisoner　whether　it　was　not　true　that　he　had　lived　many　years　in　England？
Undoubtedly　it　was。
Was　he　not　an　emigrant　then？　What　did　he　call　himself？　
Not　an　emigrant；　he　hoped；　within　the　sense　and　spirit　of　the　law。
Why　not？　the　President　desired　to　know。
Because　he　had　voluntarily　relinquished　a　title　that　was　distasteful　to　him；　and　a　station　that　was　distasteful　to　him；　and　had　left　his　country……he　submitted　before　the　word　emigrant　in　the　present　acceptation　by　the　Tribunal　was　in　use……to　live　by　his　own　industry　in　England；　rather　than　on　the　industry　of　the　overladen　people　of　France。
What　proof　had　he　of　this？
He　handed　in　the　names　of　two　witnesses：　Théophile　Gabelle；　and　Alexandre　Manette。
But　he　had　married　in　England？　the　President　reminded　him。
True；　but　not　an　English　woman。　
A　citizeness　of　France？　
Yes。　By　birth。　
Her　name　and　family？
‘Lucie　Manette；　only　daughter　of　Doctor　Manette；　the　good　physician　who　sits　there。'
This　answer　had　a　happy　effect　upon　the　audience。　Cries　in　exaltation　of　the　well…known　good　physician　rent　the　hall。　So　capriciously　were　the　people　moved；　that　tears　immediately　rolled　down　several　ferocious　countenances　which　had　been　glaring　at　the　prisoner　a　moment　before；　as　if　with　impatience　to　pluck　him　out　into　the　streets　and　kill　him。
On　these　few　steps　of　his　dangerous　way；　Charles　Darnay　had　set　his　foot　according　to　Doctor　Manette's　reiterated　instructions。　The　same　cautious　counsel　directed　every　step　that　lay　before　him；　and　had　prepared　every　inch　of　his　road。
The　Presi