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A Tale of Two Cities

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This was the Carmagnole. As it passed, leaving Lucie frightened and bewildered in the doorway of the wood-sawyer’s house, the feathery snow fell as quietly and lay as white and soft, as if it had never been. The dance was called the Carmagnole. As it passed, leaving Lucie frightened and confused in the doorway of the wood-sawyer’s house, the snow fell quietly. It lied white and soft on the ground as if the dance had never happened.
“O my father!” for he stood before her when she lifted up the eyes she had momentarily darkened with her hand; “such a cruel, bad sight.” Lucie had covered her eyes with her hand for a moment, and when she looked up Dr. Manette stood before her. “Oh, Father! This was a cruel, terrible sight to see.”
“I know, my dear, I know. I have seen it many times. Don’t be frightened! Not one of them would harm you.” “I know, my dear. I know. I have seen it many times. Don’t be frightened! None of them would ever hurt you.”
“I am not frightened for myself, my father. But when I think of my husband, and the mercies of these people—” “I’m not frightened for myself, Father, but when I think of Charles, and these merciless people—”
“We will set him above their mercies very soon. I left him climbing to the window, and I came to tell you. There is no one here to see. You may kiss your hand towards that highest shelving roof.” “We will get him safely away from these people soon. When I left he was climbing to the window. I came to tell you. You weren’t here for him to see. Blow a kiss toward that roof at the top.”
“I do so, father, and I send him my Soul with it!” “I’ll do it, Father, and I send him my soul with it.”
“You cannot see him, my poor dear?” “You can’t see him, my poor dear?”
“No, father,” said Lucie, yearning and weeping as she kissed her hand, “no.” “No, Father,” said Lucie. She was crying longingly as she kissed her hand. “No.”
A footstep in the snow. Madame Defarge. “I salute you, citizeness,” from the Doctor. “I salute you, citizen.” This in passing. Nothing more. Madame Defarge gone, like a shadow over the white road. They heard footsteps in the snow. It was Madame Defarge. Dr. Manette greeted her. “I salute you, citizeness,” he said. She answered, “I salute you, citizen.” She said it as she passed, and she said nothing more. Then she was gone, like a shadow over the snow-covered street.
“Give me your arm, my love. Pass from here with an air of cheerfulness and courage, for his sake. That was well done;” they had left the spot; “it shall not be in vain. Charles is summoned for to-morrow.” “Give me your arm, my love. Leave here looking cheerful and brave for your husband’s sake. That is the best thing you can do.” They left the spot. “All of this won’t be for nothing. Charles is going before the court tomorrow.”
“For to-morrow!” “Tomorrow!”
“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?” “There is no time to lose. I am well prepared, but we need to take precautions. These steps could not be taken until he was actually summoned before the tribunal. He hasn’t received the notice yet, but I know that he will soon be summoned for tomorrow and taken to the

Conciergerie

a former palace and prison in Paris where prisoners were tried

Conciergerie
. I have recent information. You’re not afraid, are you?”
She could scarcely answer, “I trust in you.” She almost couldn’t answer. “I trust you.”
“Do so, implicitly. Your suspense is nearly ended, my darling; he shall be restored to you within a few hours; I have encompassed him with every protection. I must see Lorry.” “You must trust me completely. Your waiting is almost over, my darling. He will be returned to you within a few hours. I have done everything I can to protect him, and now I must see Mr. 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. He stopped. There was the sound of heavy wheels nearby. They both knew too well what the sound meant. They counted: one, two, three. Three carts bringing prisoners to the guillotine, moving over the snow.
“I must see Lorry,” the Doctor repeated, turning her another way. “I must see Mr. Lorry,” repeated the doctor, turning the other 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. Mr. Lorry was still at the bank. He had never left it. He and his records were in frequent demand regarding property that had been taken away from its owners and given to the state. He saved what he could for the owners. There was no better man alive to be trusted to take care of Tellson’s property, and to keep quiet.
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! The sky turned a murky red and yellow, and a mist rose up from the Seine River. Night was coming, and it was almost dark when they arrived at Tellson’s Bank. The elegant former home of the monseigneur was wrecked and empty. Above a pile of dust and ashes in the courtyard was a sign that said “National Property. Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!”

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