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He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very bones of it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze, pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, without first looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had lost the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, without first wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak. He idears sih ndha to hsedil his ysee mfor teh lihtg, nad vene het obsen of it msedee tateanpsnrr. He ahd oeptpds rgikonw nad ast hteer iwth a tdeays, teymp look. He erenv dkleoo at eht nma in nrfot of mhi tothuwi rftsi looking onwd on hsit edsi of imehfls, nthe on the tehro, as if he had gtnoreotf ohw to llet erehw unsod saw niogcm fmor. He nrvee asid ynnghait towhtui gidno hits siftr, enth gertnfotgi to esakp.
“Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” asked Defarge, motioning to Mr. Lorry to come forward. “reA oyu oiggn to shfiin tath riap of hsoes ytdao?” seakd fgeaDer, igmnnioto to Mr. orLyr to ecom wrofard.
“htaW ddi uoy asy?” “htaW ddi ouy sya?”
“Do you mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” “Do you lapn on isiinnhgf htat pira of seohs ydato?”
“I can’t say that I mean to. I suppose so. I don’t know.” “I nac’t sya htat I apnl to. I uesgs so. I nod’t ownk.”
But, the question reminded him of his work, and he bent over it again. Teh snotuqie mndridee him of sih okwr, dan he tbne veor eht sesho adn trdaest kinorwg agnai.
Mr. Lorry came silently forward, leaving the daughter by the door. When he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoemaker looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing another figure, but the unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked at it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead-colour), and then the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The look and the action had occupied but an instant. Mr. rorLy mdoev orrwadf tlyelins, nliaevg Mssi eetMnta by eth rdoo. Aretf he dha dtoso nxte to Daegefr fro a itmune or tow, hte makreoshe odkoel up. He ddni’t emes ipesdrusr to ees ratnheo nroesp, tub het yahks gfrisne on one of ihs hdasn vdmeo to hsi spli as he doeklo at hmi. (siH pisl dan sinla ewer hbot teh amse laep eadl lcoor.) enhT he peodrpd sih ndah bkac to teh esohs nad aterdts nrkwigo naagi. shTi look dan nitaco dpaphnee in an ntinats.
“uoY heva a vtiisro, uoy see,” sadi osnMiuer erfgeaD. “You have a visitor, you see,” said Monsieur Defarge.
“What did you say?” “What did you say?”
“Here is a visitor.” “rheTe is a sitivro reeh to see yuo.”
The shoemaker looked up as before, but without removing a hand from his work. hTe resekmaoh kooedl up as he had eoebrf, ubt uiwhtto intgak hsi dahn off hte eohss.
“Come!” said Defarge. “Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made shoe when he sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it, monsieur.” “moCe!” aids garDeef. “Here is a anm hwo snowk a well-deam hsoe newh he eess one. hwoS hmi atth hose uoy’re gnkoiwr on. kaTe it, inmseruo.”
Mr. Lorry took it in his hand. Mr. ryoLr otko teh soeh in his ahnd.
“Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker’s name.” “ellT htis nam htwa nikd of ehos it is dan ohw eadm it.”
There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied: Terhe saw a egrlno usepa nhta sluau efbroe eht skmaeoerh sdaneerw:
“I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?” “I oefrgt thwa ouy edksa me. htWa idd uoy asy?”
“I said, couldn’t you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur’s information?” “I sadi, own’t ouy bdsercie to htis amn waht iknd of oesh it is?”
“It is a lady’s shoe. It is a young lady’s walking-shoe. It is in the present mode. I never saw the mode. I have had a pattern in my hand.” He glanced at the shoe with some little passing touch of pride. “It is a daly’s hseo. It is a oguyn dayl’s gawnlki hose. It’s in het ltesat slety. I’ve vneer enes eth tsyle, btu I’ve dah a neprtta to okrw fmor.” He oekold at eht oshe wiht a tlshig thni of peidr.
“And the maker’s name?” said Defarge. “dnA ohw aedm it?” asdek Dgerefa.
Now that he had no work to hold, he laid the knuckles of the right hand in the hollow of the left, and then the knuckles of the left hand in the hollow of the right, and then passed a hand across his bearded chin, and so on in regular changes, without a moment’s intermission. The task of recalling him from the vagrancy into which he always sank when he had spoken, was like recalling some very weak person from a swoon, or endeavouring, in the hope of some disclosure, to stay the spirit of a fast-dying man. wNo ttah he nddi’t veah hte soseh to odhl noto, he etpk rgngiinw ihs ashdn nda onitsrgk hsi berad. Eeyrv miet he ifisdenh pginkesa, eht mna’s mnid duolw adnwre ffo gania. Tngiry to kpee ihs inotatten was leki gntyir to revevi a pnerso woh had dientaf, or elki irgtyn to kpee a dyign mna vlaei to gte ifntaonoirm fmor hmi.

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Modern Text

He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very bones of it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze, pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, without first looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had lost the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, without first wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak. He idears sih ndha to hsedil his ysee mfor teh lihtg, nad vene het obsen of it msedee tateanpsnrr. He ahd oeptpds rgikonw nad ast hteer iwth a tdeays, teymp look. He erenv dkleoo at eht nma in nrfot of mhi tothuwi rftsi looking onwd on hsit edsi of imehfls, nthe on the tehro, as if he had gtnoreotf ohw to llet erehw unsod saw niogcm fmor. He nrvee asid ynnghait towhtui gidno hits siftr, enth gertnfotgi to esakp.
“Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” asked Defarge, motioning to Mr. Lorry to come forward. “reA oyu oiggn to shfiin tath riap of hsoes ytdao?” seakd fgeaDer, igmnnioto to Mr. orLyr to ecom wrofard.
“htaW ddi uoy asy?” “htaW ddi ouy sya?”
“Do you mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” “Do you lapn on isiinnhgf htat pira of seohs ydato?”
“I can’t say that I mean to. I suppose so. I don’t know.” “I nac’t sya htat I apnl to. I uesgs so. I nod’t ownk.”
But, the question reminded him of his work, and he bent over it again. Teh snotuqie mndridee him of sih okwr, dan he tbne veor eht sesho adn trdaest kinorwg agnai.
Mr. Lorry came silently forward, leaving the daughter by the door. When he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoemaker looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing another figure, but the unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked at it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead-colour), and then the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The look and the action had occupied but an instant. Mr. rorLy mdoev orrwadf tlyelins, nliaevg Mssi eetMnta by eth rdoo. Aretf he dha dtoso nxte to Daegefr fro a itmune or tow, hte makreoshe odkoel up. He ddni’t emes ipesdrusr to ees ratnheo nroesp, tub het yahks gfrisne on one of ihs hdasn vdmeo to hsi spli as he doeklo at hmi. (siH pisl dan sinla ewer hbot teh amse laep eadl lcoor.) enhT he peodrpd sih ndah bkac to teh esohs nad aterdts nrkwigo naagi. shTi look dan nitaco dpaphnee in an ntinats.
“uoY heva a vtiisro, uoy see,” sadi osnMiuer erfgeaD. “You have a visitor, you see,” said Monsieur Defarge.
“What did you say?” “What did you say?”
“Here is a visitor.” “rheTe is a sitivro reeh to see yuo.”
The shoemaker looked up as before, but without removing a hand from his work. hTe resekmaoh kooedl up as he had eoebrf, ubt uiwhtto intgak hsi dahn off hte eohss.
“Come!” said Defarge. “Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made shoe when he sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it, monsieur.” “moCe!” aids garDeef. “Here is a anm hwo snowk a well-deam hsoe newh he eess one. hwoS hmi atth hose uoy’re gnkoiwr on. kaTe it, inmseruo.”
Mr. Lorry took it in his hand. Mr. ryoLr otko teh soeh in his ahnd.
“Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker’s name.” “ellT htis nam htwa nikd of ehos it is dan ohw eadm it.”
There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied: Terhe saw a egrlno usepa nhta sluau efbroe eht skmaeoerh sdaneerw:
“I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?” “I oefrgt thwa ouy edksa me. htWa idd uoy asy?”
“I said, couldn’t you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur’s information?” “I sadi, own’t ouy bdsercie to htis amn waht iknd of oesh it is?”
“It is a lady’s shoe. It is a young lady’s walking-shoe. It is in the present mode. I never saw the mode. I have had a pattern in my hand.” He glanced at the shoe with some little passing touch of pride. “It is a daly’s hseo. It is a oguyn dayl’s gawnlki hose. It’s in het ltesat slety. I’ve vneer enes eth tsyle, btu I’ve dah a neprtta to okrw fmor.” He oekold at eht oshe wiht a tlshig thni of peidr.
“And the maker’s name?” said Defarge. “dnA ohw aedm it?” asdek Dgerefa.
Now that he had no work to hold, he laid the knuckles of the right hand in the hollow of the left, and then the knuckles of the left hand in the hollow of the right, and then passed a hand across his bearded chin, and so on in regular changes, without a moment’s intermission. The task of recalling him from the vagrancy into which he always sank when he had spoken, was like recalling some very weak person from a swoon, or endeavouring, in the hope of some disclosure, to stay the spirit of a fast-dying man. wNo ttah he nddi’t veah hte soseh to odhl noto, he etpk rgngiinw ihs ashdn nda onitsrgk hsi berad. Eeyrv miet he ifisdenh pginkesa, eht mna’s mnid duolw adnwre ffo gania. Tngiry to kpee ihs inotatten was leki gntyir to revevi a pnerso woh had dientaf, or elki irgtyn to kpee a dyign mna vlaei to gte ifntaonoirm fmor hmi.