a tale of two cities(双城记)-第88章

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　‘How；　then？'　said　one　of　them；　contemplating　the　fallen　figure。　‘So　afflicted　to　find　that　his　friend　has　drawn　a　prize　in　the　lottery　of　Sainte　Guillotine？'　
　‘A　good　patriot；'　said　the　other；　‘could　hardly　have　been　more　afflicted　if　the　Aristocrat　had　drawn　a　blank。'　
　They　raised　the　unconscious　figure；　placed　it　on　a　litter　they　had　brought　to　the　door；　and　bent　to　carry　it　away。　‘The　time　is　short；　Evrémonde；'　said　the　Spy；　in　a　warning　Voice。　
　‘I　know　it　well；'　answered　Carton。　‘Be　careful　of　my　friend；　I　entreat　you；　and　leave　me。　
　‘Come；　then；　my　children；'　said　Barsad。　‘Lift　him；　and　come　away！'　
　The　door　closed；　and　Carton　was　left　alone。　Straining　his　powers　of　listening　to　the　utmost；　he　listened　for　any　sound　that　might　denote　suspicion　or　alarm。　There　was　none。　Keys　turned；　doors　clashed；　footsteps　passed　along　distant　passages：　no　cry　was　raised；　or　hurry　made；　that　seemed　unusual。　Breathing　more　freely　in　a　little　while；　he　sat　down　at　the　table；　and　listened　again　until　the　clock　struck　Two。　Sounds　that　he　was　not　afraid　of；　for　he　divined　their　meaning；　then　began　to　be　audible。　Several　doors　were　opened　in　succession；　and　finally　his　own。　A　gaoler；　with　a　list　in　his　hand；　looked　in；　merely　saying；　‘Follow　me；　Evrémonde！'　and　he　followed　into　a　large　dark　room；　at　a　distance。　It　was　a　dark　winter　day；　and　what　with　the　shadows　within；　and　what　with　the　shadows　without；　he　could　but　dimly　discern　the　others　who　were　brought　there　to　have　their　arms　bound。　Some　were　standing；　some　seated。　Some　were　lamenting；　and　in　restless　motion；　but；　these　were　few。　The　great　majority　were　silent　and　still；　looking　fixedly　at　the　ground。　
　As　he　stood　by　the　wall　in　a　dim　corner；　while　some　of　the　fifty…two　were　brought　in　after　him；　one　man　stopped　in　passing；　to　embrace　him；　as　having　a　knowledge　of　him。　It　thrilled　him　with　a　great　dread　of　discovery；　but　the　man　went　on。　A　very　few　moments　after　that；　a　young　woman；　with　a　slight　girlish　form；　a　sweet　spare　face　in　which　there　was　no　vestige　of　colour；　and　large　widely　opened　patient　eyes；　rose　from　the　seat　where　he　had　observed　her　sitting；　and　came　to　speak　to　him。　
　‘Citizen　Evrémonde；'　she　said；　touching　him　with　her　cold　hand。　‘I　am　a　poor　little　seamstress；　who　was　with　you　in　La　Force。　
　He　murmured　for　answer：　‘True。　I　forget　what　you　were　accused　of？'　
　‘Plots。　Though　the　just　Heaven　knows　I　am　innocent　of　any。　Is　it　likely？　Who　would　think　of　plotting　with　a　poor　little　weak　creature　like　me？'　
　The　forlorn　smile　with　which　she　said　it；　so　touched　him；　that　tears　started　from　his　eyes。　
　‘I　am　not　afraid　to　die；　Citizen　Evrémonde；　but　I　have　done　nothing。　I　am　not　unwilling　to　die；　if　the　Republic　which　is　to　do　so　much　good　to　us　poor；　will　profit　by　my　death；　but　I　do　not　know　how　that　can　be；　Citizen　Evreémonde。　Such　a　poor　weak　little　creature！'　
　As　the　last　thing　on　earth　that　his　heart　was　to　warm　and　soften　to；　it　warmed　and　softened　to　this　pitiable　girl。　
　‘I　heard　you　were　released；　Citizen　‘Evrémonde。　I　hoped　it　was　true？'　
　‘It　was。　But；　I　was　again　taken　and　condemned。'　
　‘If　I　may　ride　with　you；　Citizen　Evrémonde；　will　you　let　me　hold　your　hand？　I　am　not　afraid；　hut　I　am　little　and　weak；　and　it　will　give　me　more　courage。'　
　As　the　patient　eyes　were　lifted　to　his　face；　he　saw　a　sudden　doubt　in　them；　and　then　astonishment。　He　pressed　the　work…worn；　hunger…worn　young　fingers；　and　touched　his　lips。　
　‘Are　you　dying　for　him？'　she　whispered。　
　‘And　his　wife　and　child。　Hush！　Yes。'　
　‘O　you　will　let　me　hold　your　brave　hand；　stranger？'　
　‘Hush！　Yes；　my　poor　sister；　to　the　last。　
　The　same　shadows　that　are　falling　on　the　prison；　are　falling；　in　that　same　hour　of　the　early　afternoon；　on　the　Barrier　with　the　crowd　about　it；　when　a　coach　going　out　of　Paris　drives　up　to　be　examined。　
　‘Who　goes　here？　Whom　have　we　within？　Papers！'　
　The　papers　are　handed　out；　and　read。　
　‘Alexandre　Manette。　Physician。　French。　Which　is　he？'　
　This　is　he；　this　helpless；　inarticulately　murmuring；　wandering　old　man　pointed　out。　
‘Apparently　the　Citizen…Doctor　is　not　in　his　right　mind？　The　Revolution…fever　will　have　been　too　much　for　him？'　
　Greatly　too　much　for　him。　
　‘Hah！　Many　suffer　with　it。　Lucie。　His　daughter。　French。　Which　is　she？'　
　This　is　she。　
　‘Apparently　it　must　be。　Lucie；　the　wife　of　Evrémonde；　is　it　not'。〃　
　It　is。　
　‘Hah！　Evrémonde　has　an　assignation　elsewhere。　Lucie；　her　child。　English。　This　is　she？'　
　She　and　no　other。　
　‘Kiss　me；　child　of　Evrémonde。　Now；　thou　hast　kissed　a　good　Republican；　something　new　in　thy　family；　remember　it！　Sydney　Carton。　Advocate。　English。　Which　is　he？'　
　He　lies　here；　in　this　corner　of　the　carriage。　He；　too；　is　pointed　out。　
　‘Apparently　the　English　advocate　is　in　a　swoon？'　
　It　is　hoped　he　will　recover　in　the　fresher　air。　It　is　represented　that　he　is　not　in　strong　health；　and　has　separated　sadly　from　a　friend　who　is　under　the　displeasure　of　the　Republic。　
　‘Is　that　all？　It　is　not　a　great　deal；　that！　Many　are　under　the　displeasure　of　the　Republic；　and　must　look　out　at　the　little　window。　Jarvis　Lorry。　Banker。　English。　Which　is　he？'　
　‘I　am　he。　Necessarily；　being　the　last。'　
　It　is　Jarvis　Lorry　who　has　replied　to　all　the　previous　questions。　It　is　Jarvis　Lorry　who　has　alighted　and　stands　with　his　hand　on　the　coach　door；　replying　to　a　group　of　officials。　They　leisurely　walk　round　the　carriage　and　leisurely　mount　the　box；　to　look　at　what　little　luggage　it　carries　on　the　roof；　the　country…people　hanging　about；　press　nearer　to　the　coach　doors　and　greedily　stare　in；　a　little　child；　carried　by　its　mother；　has　its　short　arm　held　out　for　it；　that　it　may　touch　the　wife　of　an　aristocrat　who　has　gone　to　the　Guillotine。　
　‘Behold　your　papers；　Jarvis　Lorry；　countersigned。'　
　‘One　can　depart；　citizen？'　
　‘One　can　depart。　Forward；　my　postilions！　A　good　journey！'　
　‘I　salute　you；　citizens。And　the　first　danger　passed！'　
　These　are　again　the　words　of　Jarvis　Lorry；　as　he　clasps　his　hands；　and　looks　upward。　There　is　terror　in　the　carriage；　there　is　weeping；　there　is　the　heavy　breathing　of　the　insensible　traveller。　
‘Are　we　not　going　too　slowly？　Can　they　not　be　induced　to　go　faster？'　asks　Lucie；　clinging　to　the　old　man。　
　‘It　would　seem　like　flight；　my　darling。　I　must　not　urge　them　too　much；　it　would　rouse　suspicion。'　
　‘Look　back；　look　back；　and　see　if　we　are　pursued！'　
　‘The　road　is　clear；　my　dearest。　So　far；　we　are　not　pursued。'　
　Houses　in　twos　and　threes　pass　by　us；　solitary　farms；　ruinous　buildings；　dye…works；　tanneries；　and　the　like；　open　country；　avenues　of　leafless　trees。　The　hard　uneven　pavement　is　under　us；　the　soft　deep　mud　is　on　either　side。　Sometimes；　we　strike　into　the　skirting　mud；　to　avoid　the　stones　that　clatter　us　and　shake　us；　sometimes　we　stick　in　ruts　and　sloughs　there。　The　agony　of　our　impatience　is　then　so　great；　that　in　our　wild　alarm　and　hurry　we　are　for　getting　out　and　runninghidingdoing　anything　but　stopping。　
　Out　of　the　open　country；　in　again　among　ruinous　buildings；　solitary　farms；　dye…works；　tanneries；　and　the　like；　cottages　in　twos　and　threes；　avenues　of　leafless　trees。　Have　these　men　deceived　us；　and　taken　us　back　by　another　road？　Is　not　this　the　same　place　twice　over？　Thank　Heaven；　no。　A　village。　Look　back；　look　back；　and　see　if　we　are　pursued！　Hush！　the　posting…house。　
　Leisurely；　our　four　horses　are　taken　out；　leisurely；　the　coach　stands　in　the　little　street；　bereft　of　horses；　and　with　no　likelihood　upon　it　of　ever　moving　again；　leisurely；　the　new　horses　come　into　visible　existence；　one　by　one；　leisurely；　the　new　postilions　follow；　sucking　and　plaiting　the　lashes　of　their　whips；　leisurely；　the　old　postilions　count　their　money；　make　wrong　additions；　and　arrive　at　dissatisfied　results。　All　the　time；　our　overfraught　hearts　are　beating　at　a　rate　that　would　far　outstrip　the　fastest　gallop　of　the　fastest　horses　ever　foaled。　
　At　length　the　new　postilions　are　in　their　saddles；　and　the　old　are　left　behind。　We　are　through　the　village；　up　the　hill；　and　down　the　hill；　and　on　the　low　watery　grounds。　Suddenly）'；　the　postilions　exchange　speech　with　animated　gesticulation；　and　the　horses…are　pulled　up；　almost　on　their　haunches。　We　are　pursued。　
　‘Ho！　Within　the　carriage　there。