a tale of two cities(双城记)-第86章

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　‘Remember　these　words　to…morrow：　change　the　course；　or　delay　in　itfor　any　reasonand　no　life　can　possibly　be　saved；　and　many　lives　must　inevitably　be　sacrificed。'　
　‘I　will　remember　them。　I　hope　to　do　my　part　faithfully。'　‘And　I　hope　to　do　mine。　Now；　good…bye！'　
　Though　he　said　it　with　a　grave　smile　of　earnestness；　and　though　lie　even　put　the　old　man's　hand　to　his　lips；　he　did　not　part　from　him　then。　He　helped　him　so　far　to　arouse　the　rocking　figure　before　the　dying　embers；　as　to　get　a　cloak　and　hat　put　upon　it；　and　to　tempt　it　forth　to　find　where　the　bench　and　work　were　hidden　that　it　still　moaningly　besought　to　have。　He　walked　on　the　other　side　of　it　and　protected　it　to　the　court…yard　of　the　house　where　the　afflicted　heartso　happy　in　the　memorable　time　when　he　had　revealed　his　own　desolate　heart　to　itoutwatched　the　awful　night。　He　entered　the　court…yard　and　remained　there　for　a　few　moments　alone；　loping　up　at　the　light　in　the　window　of　her　room。　Before　he　went　away；　he　breathed　a　blessing　towards　it；　and　a　Farewell。　


CHAPTER　XIII
Fifty…two
IN　the　black　prison　of　the　Conciergerie；　the　doomed　of　the　day　awaited　their　fate。　They　were　in　number　as　the　weeks　of　the　year。　Fifty…two　were　to　roll　that　afternoon　on　the　life…tide　of　the　city　to　the　boundless　everlasting　sea。　Before　their　cells　were　quit　of　them；　new　occupants　were　appointed；　before　their　blood　ran　into　the　blood　spilled　yesterday；　the　blood　that　was　to　mingle　with　theirs　to…morrow　was　already　set　apart。　
　Two　score　and　twelve　were　told　off　From　the　farmer…general　of　seventy；　whose　riches　could　not　buy　his　life；　to　the　seamstress　of　twenty；　whose　poverty　and　obscurity　could　not　save　her。　Physical　diseases；　engendered　in　the　vices　and　neglects　of　men；　will　seize　on　victims　of　all　degrees；　and　the　frightful　moral　disorder；　born　of　unspeakable　suffering；　intolerable　oppression；　and　heartless　indifference；　smote　equally　without　distinction。　
　Charles　Darnay；　alone　in　a　cell；　had　sustained　himself　with　no　flattering　delusion　since　he　came　to　it　from　the　Tribunal。　In　every　line　of　the　narrative　he　had　heard；　he　had　heard　his　condemnation。　He　had　fully　comprehended　that　no　personal　influence　could　possibly　save　him；　that　he　was　virtually　sentenced　by　the　millions；　and　that　units　could　avail　him　nothing。　
　Nevertheless；　it　was　not　easy；　with　the　face　of　his　beloved　wife　fresh　before　him；　to　compose　his　mind　to　what　it　must　bear。　His　hold　on　life　was　strong；　and　it　was　very；　very　hard　to　loosen；　by　gradual　efforts　and　degrees　unclosed　a　little　here；　it　clenched　the　tighter　there；　and　when　he　brought　his　strength　to　bear　on　that　hand　and　it　yielded；　this　was　closed　again。　There　was　a　hurry；　too；　in　all　his　thoughts；　a　turbulent　and　heated　working　of　his　heart；　that　contended　against　resignation。　If　for　a　moment；　he　did　feel　resigned；　then　his　wife　and　child　who　had　to　live　after　him；　seemed　to　protest　and　to　make　it　a　selfish　thing。　
　But；　all　this　was　at　first。　Before　long；　the　consideration　that　there　was　no　disgrace　in　the　fate　he　must　meet；　and　that　numbers　went　the　same　road　wrongfully；　and　trod　it　firmly　every　day；　sprang　up　to　stimulate　him。　Next　followed　the　thought　that　much　of　the　future　peace　of　mind　enjoyable　by　the　dear　ones；　depended　on　his　quiet　fortitude。　So；　by　degrees　he　calmed　into　the　better　state；　when　he　could　raise　his　thoughts　much　higher；　and　draw　comfort　down。　
　Before　it　had　set　in　dark　on　the　night　of　his　condemnation；　he　had　travelled　thus　far　on　his　last　way。　Being　allowed　to　purchase　the　means　of　writing；　and　a　light；　he　sat　down　to　write　until　such　time　as　the　prison　lamps　should　be　extinguished。　
　He　wrote　a　long　letter　to　Lucie；　showing　her　that　he　had　known　nothing　of　her　father's　imprisonment；　until　he　had　heard　of　it　from　herself；　and　that　he　had　been　as　ignorant　as　she　of　his　father's　and　uncle's　responsibility　for　that　misery；　until　the　paper　had　been　read。　He　had　already　explained　to　her　that　his　concealment　from　herself　of　the　name　he　had　relinquished；　was　the　one　conditionfully　intelligible　nowthat　her　father　had　attached　to　their　betrothal；　and　was　the　one　promise　he　had　still　exacted　on　the　morning　of　their　marriage。　He　entreated　her；　for　her　father's　sake；　never　to　seek　to　know　whether　her　father　had　become　oblivious　of　the　existence　of　the　paper；　or　had　had　it　recalled　to　him　（for　the　moment；　or　for　good）；　by　the　story　of　the　Tower；　on　that　old　Sunday　under　the　dear　old　plane…tree　in　the　garden。　If　he　had　preserved　any　definite　remembrance　of　it；　there　could　be　no　doubt　that　he　had　supposed　it　destroyed　with　the　Bastille；　when　he　had　found　no　mention　of　it　among　the　relics　of　prisoners　which　the　populace　had　discovered　there；　and　which　had　been　described　to　all　the　world。　He　besought　herthough　he　added　that　he　knew　it　was　needlessto　console　her　father；　by　impressing　him　through　every　tender　means　she　could　think　of；　with　the　truth　that　he　had　done　nothing　for　which　he　could　justly　reproach　himself；　but　had　uniformly　forgotten　himself　for　their　joint　sakes。　Next　to　her　preservation　of　his　own　last　grateful　love　and　blessing；　and　her　overcoming　of　her　sorrow；　to　devote　herself　to　their　dear　child；　he　adjured　her；　as　they　would　meet　in　Heaven；　to　comfort　her　father。　
　To　her　father　himself　he　wrote　in　the　same　strain；　but；　he　told　her　father　that　he　expressly　confided　his　wife　and　child　to　his　care。　And　he　told　him　this；　very　strongly；　with　the　hope　of　rousing　him　from　any　despondency　or　dangerous　retrospect　towards　which　he　foresaw　he　might　be　tending。　
To　Mr。　Lorry；　he　commended　them　all；　and　explained　his　worldly　affairs。　That　done；　with　many　added　sentences　of　grateful　friendship　and　warm　attachment；　all　was　done。　He　never　thought　of　Carton。　His　mind　was　so　full　of　the　others；　that　he　never　once　thought　of　him。　
　He　had　time　to　finish　these　letters　before　the　lights　were　put　out。　When　he　lay　down　on　his　straw　bed；　he　thought　he　had　done　with　this　world。　
　But；　it　beckoned　him　back　in　his　sleep；　and　showed　itself　in　shining　forms。　Free　and　happy；　back　in　the　old　house　in　Soho　（though　it　had　nothing　in　it　like　the　real　house）；　unaccountably　released　and　light　of　heart；　he　was　with　Lucie　again；　and　she　told　him　it　was　all　a　dream；　and　he　had　never　gone　away。　A　pause　of　forgetfulness；　and　then　lie　had　even　suffered；　and　had　come　back　to　her；　dead　and　at　peace；　and　yet　there　was　no　difference　in　him。　Another　pause　of　oblivion；　and　he　awoke　in　the　sombre　morning；　unconscious　where　he　was　or　what　had　happened；　until　it　flashed　upon　his　mind；　‘this　is　the　day　of　my　death'　
　Thus；　had　he　come　through　the　hours；　to　the　day　when　the　fifty…two　heads　were　to　fall。　And　now；　while　he　was　composed；　and　hoped　that　he　could　meet　the　end　with　quiet　heroism；　a　new　action　began　in　his　waking　thoughts；　which　was　very　difficult　to　master。　
　He　had　never　seen　the　instrument　that　was　to　terminate　his　life。　How　high　it　was　from　the　ground；　how　many　steps　it　had；　where　he　would　be　stood；　how　he　would　be　touched；　whether　the　touching　hands　would　be　dyed　red；　which　way　his　face　would　be　turned；　whether　he　would　be　the　first；　or　might　be　the　last：　these　and　many　similar　questions；　in　no　wise　directed　by　his　will；　obtruded　themselves　over　and　over　again；　countless　times。　Neither　were　they　connected　with　fear：　he　was　conscious　of　no　fear。　Rather；　they　originated　in　a　strange　besetting　desire　to　know　what　to　do　when　the　time　came；　a　desire　gigantically　disproportionate　to　the　few　swift　moments　to　which　it　referred；　a　wondering　that　was　more　like　the　wondering　of　some　other　spirit　within　his；　than　his　own。　
　The　hours　went　on　as　lie　walked　to　and　fro；　and　the　clocks　struck　the　numbers　he　would　never　hear　again。　Nine　cone　for　ever；　ten　gone　for　ever；　eleven　gone　for　ever；　twelve　coming　on　to　pass　away。　After　a　hard　contest　with　that　eccentric　action　of　thought　which　had　last　perplexed　him；　he　had　got　the　better　of　it。　He　walked　up　and　down；　softly　repeating　their　names　to　himself。　The　worst　of　the　strife　was　over。　He　could　walk　up　and　down；　free　from　distracting　fancies；　praying　for　himself　and　for　them。　
　Twelve　gone　for　ever。　
　He　had　been　apprised　that　the　final　hour　was　Three；　and　he　knew　he　would　be　summoned　some　time　earlier；　inasmuch　as　the　tum