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A Tale of Two Cities

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Few coaches were abroad, for riders in coaches were liable to be suspected, and gentility hid its head in red nightcaps, and put on heavy shoes, and trudged. But, the theatres were all well filled, and the people poured cheerfully out as he passed, and went chatting home. At one of the theatre doors, there was a little girl with a mother, looking for a way across the street through the mud. He carried the child over, and before the timid arm was loosed from his neck asked her for a kiss. There weren’t many coaches in the streets, as people riding in coaches were often suspected. The higher classes hid among the peasants by wearing red caps and heavy shoes and walking with everyone else, but the theaters were full. As he walked past, people poured out of them cheerfully and went home, talking together. At one of the theater doors there was a little girl with her mother. They were looking for a way to cross the street through the mud. Sydney carried the child across the street. Before she had let go of his neck, he asked her for a kiss.
“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.” “I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord. Whoever believes in me, even though he is dead, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in me shall never die.”
Now, that the streets were quiet, and the night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always. Now that the streets were quiet and the night continued on, the words echoed around him. He was completely calm and steady. Sometimes he repeated them out loud to himself as he walked, but he heard them continuously in his head.
The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death’s dominion. Then the night was over. He stood on a bridge listening to the water as it splashed against the river walls of the island of Paris. A beautiful cluster of houses and a cathedral shone in the moonlight. The day came on coldly, looking like a dead person’s face in the sky. Then the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and faded away, and for a little while it seemed like death had taken over the whole world.
But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it. Then the glorious sun rose and it was daylight. It warmed Sydney’s heart with its long, bright rays. As he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked at the sunshine, it looked like there was a bridge of light between him and the sun, and the river sparkled below it.
The strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from the houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the bank. When he awoke and was afoot again, he lingered there yet a little longer, watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the stream absorbed it, and carried it on to the sea. —”Like me.” The tide was strong and fast and always there, like a friend in the stillness of the morning. He walked by the stream, far away from the houses, and fell asleep on the riverbank in the light and warmth of the sun. Then he woke up and stood there a little longer. He watched a whirlpool in the stream that turned and turned without purpose until the stream absorbed it and carried it out to sea. “Like me,” thought Sydney.
A trading-boat, with a sail of the softened colour of a dead leaf, then glided into his view, floated by him, and died away. As its silent track in the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken up out of his heart for a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, ended in the words, “I am the resurrection and the life.” A trading boat glided into view. Its sail was the color of a dead leaf, and it floated by him and died away. As the track of water that it made disappeared, the prayer he had been repeating to himself asking mercy for all his faults and mistakes ended with the words, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back, and it was easy to surmise where the good old man was gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing but a little coffee, ate some bread, and, having washed and changed to refresh himself, went out to the place of trial. Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back. It was easy to guess where he had gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing but a little coffee and ate some bread. After he washed up and changed clothes to refresh himself, he went to Darnay’s trial.
The court was all astir and a-buzz, when the black sheep—whom many fell away from in dread—pressed him into an obscure corner among the crowd. Mr. Lorry was there, and Doctor Manette was there. She was there, sitting beside her father. The court was full of noise and activity, when the court officials, whom many moved away from in fear, pushed him into a corner of the crowd. Mr. Lorry was there, and so was Dr. Manette. Lucie was there, sitting next to her father.

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