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A Tale of Two Cities

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This dialogue had been held in so very low a whisper, that not a word of it had reached the young lady’s ears. But, by this time she trembled under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety, and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbent on him to speak a word or two of reassurance. They spoke too quietly for the young woman to hear, but by now fear and anxiety shook her so much that Mr. Lorry felt he should reassure her.
“Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst will be over in a moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then, all the good you bring to him, all the relief, all the happiness you bring to him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side. That’s well, friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!” “Be brave, miss! Courage! This is business! The worst part will be over in a moment. It’s just walking into a room, and the worst is over. Then, all the goodness, all the relief, all the happiness you’ll bring him will begin. Let our good friend here help you. Our good friend Monsieur Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!”
They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they were soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at once in sight of three men, whose heads were bent down close together at the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to which the door belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On hearing footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose, and showed themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking in the wine-shop. They went up slowly and quietly. The staircase was short, and they were soon at the top. As they rounded a sharp turn in the staircase, they suddenly saw three men. Their heads were bent down close together at the side of the door, and they were intently looking into the room through some cracks in the wall. When they heard footsteps approach, the three men turned and stood up. They were the three men named Jacques who had been drinking in the wine shop.
“I forgot them in the surprise of your visit,” explained Monsieur Defarge. “Leave us, good boys; we have business here.” “I forgot about them when your visit surprised me,” explained Monsieur Defarge. “Go away, my friends; we have business here.”
The three glided by, and went silently down. The three men slipped past and went silently downstairs.
There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone, Mr. Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger: Since there didn’t appear to be any other doors on that floor, and the wine-shop owner went straight to this one when they were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him in a whisper, a little angry:
“Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?” “Are you making a spectacle of Monsieur Manette?”
“I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few.” “I show him, in the way you just saw, to a select few.”
“Is that well?” “Is that proper?”
“I think it is well.” I think it’s proper.”
“Who are the few? How do you choose them?” “Who are the few? How do you select them?”
“I choose them as real men, of my name—Jacques is my name—to whom the sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is another thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment.” “I select true men. Men with my name, Jacques, who would benefit from seeing him. I won’t say anymore. You are English. You wouldn’t understand. Please wait there for a moment.”
With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he struck twice or thrice upon the door—evidently with no other object than to make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it, three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned it as heavily as he could. He motioned for them to stay back, then leaned over and looked in through the crack in the wall. Soon he raised his head and knocked two or three times on the door—apparently just to make noise. For this same reason, he dragged the key across the door three or four times before clumsily putting it in the lock and loudly turning it.
The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into the room and said something. A faint voice answered something. Little more than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side. He slowly opened the door slowly, looked into the room, and said something. A quiet voice answered back. Neither person spoke much more than a syllable.
He looked back over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr. Lorry got his arm securely round the daughter’s waist, and held her; for he felt that she was sinking. Defarge looked back over his shoulder and motioned for them to enter. Mr. Lorry felt Miss Manette sink so he put his arm around her waist.

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