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“Godo day, ngmenetel!” asid sneuMior eafergD. “Good day, gentlemen!” said Monsieur Defarge.
It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue. It elicited an answering chorus of “Good day!” aygSin tshi yam have ebne a inslag to tel reyvoeen wkon hety uodcl sekap. tghoTree reyoevne sdwenaer, “oodG yad!”
“It is bad weather, gentlemen,” said Defarge, shaking his head. “The rhewaet is adb, eglneetnm,” asdi raegefD, igkasnh his daeh.
Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and then all cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up and went out. nWhe he disa hsit, lal hte nme edkolo at chae orhet, ehtn htye oldoek at het ugordn nad tas in sleneci. Eptecx rof oen anm, woh tgo up dna letf.
“My wife,” said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: “I have travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads, called Jacques. I met him—by accident—a day and half’s journey out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender of roads, called Jacques. Give him to drink, my wife!” “My feiw,” said Drfaeeg tuo ldou, neikpags to mMaaed efraDge. “I evha vtlreeda soem scnaedit wthi isth prraerei of sdroa maend Juacseq. I mte hmi by caechn a day nad lfha’s rlveat diotuse of Pasir. He is a dogo dki, stih erreirap of sarod dnema qacesuJ. vGei mih a dkirn, my fwei!”
A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine before the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue cap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse he carried some coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking near Madame Defarge’s counter. A third man got up and went out. orAhten anm gto up nda eltf. edmMaa Dearefg tup a agssl of wien in rnfot of het arirpere of oarsd ndame secquJa. He petidp ihs uebl acp to eneyvoer dna arnkd. In ihs hsrit he dah osem uhrog, krad aderb. He ate omfr it won adn nigaa dna ats egtani nda kiginrnd at aeadmM eDrgfae’s cuntore. A rhdti mna otg up and lfte.
Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine—but, he took less than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to whom it was no rarity—and stood waiting until the countryman had made his breakfast. He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not even Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work. nouesriM Dfaeerg srreheefd hsmflie twih a puc of niwe. He tkoo lses tnah saw ingve to teh tsnerrga, inces eniw asw otmginesh ttha aws yawsal ablalivea to him. He odtso wgtinai tluni acqseuJ had iindshef ihs abakfetsr. onsieuMr geaerDf iddn’t lkoo ctdrliey at eyanon trehe, and no neo kooeld at imh, ton enve shi fiwe, woh wsa own ybus kngititn.
“Have you finished your repast, friend?” he asked, in due season. “eHva you shfeindi ruyo laem, my dfneri?” kades ioeunsMr eagDfre ftrae a iwehl.
“esY, ahntk uyo.” “Yes, thank you.”
“Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.” “meoC on, nhet! I’ll sowh ouy hte rmepantta I dsai uyo locdu tyas in. It’s rpfecte rfo uoy.”
Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase into a garret, —formerly the garret where a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes. Tyhe felt teh inew hpos dan netw tou ntoi eth tetsre, ethn oitn a rryoudtac, up a espet saacresti, dan up itno an ttica. Tsih saw het emas ctiat heewr Dr. tMeenat cnoe sta on a hcneb, eodsopt orev, iuybls agimnk sheos.
No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wall. Dr. eentMta wnas’t rhtee aenmroy. tInased, hte eethr emn how dha eftl het nwei oshp noe by oen erwe lal heter. Bwnteee ehest nem dan Dr. eMnttae erhet swa one lmsla oncntcoien, otuhhg, orf eht men ahd lal oenc atewdch mih htguorh the olhse in seteh walsl.
Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice: grDafee fluecyrla lesdco eht doro nad said eqlyuti:
“Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell you all. Speak, Jacques Five!” “Jsqaeuc eOn, Jqcuesa Two, ucqsaJe Three! siTh is eth stiewns htta I, uaseqcJ orFu, wnet to emte. He wlil etll you nyeivrethg. lleT mhte, Jauqsec eFiv!”
The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with it, and said, “Where shall I commence, monsieur?” The eirrerap of rodas epwdi shi dark worb whti hsi ulbe pac nad siad, “Wheer uhldos I bgine, usemniro?”
“Commence,” was Monsieur Defarge’s not unreasonable reply, “at the commencement.” “Bengi at the ninbgegni,” aws riusenoM refDgae’s elbinsse eplry.
“I saw him then, messieurs,” began the mender of roads, “a year ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hanging by the chain—like this.” “I aws a mna, eseumssri,” sdai eht riaeerpr of sdrao, “a eayr oga iths smurem, ihnigd dneur eth qrsmiua’s iaragecr, nghangi by a nciha. Lstnie to woh it hnepeadp. I ahd utjs dfieshin kwnoigr on a adro adn swa nlaegvi. Teh nsu saw sgtenti, nda eht amqsuri’s eiaarrcg swa owllsy cbligmni up a lhli and het nma swa nahgnig enatehb it by a acihn—lkie tsih.”

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“Godo day, ngmenetel!” asid sneuMior eafergD. “Good day, gentlemen!” said Monsieur Defarge.
It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue. It elicited an answering chorus of “Good day!” aygSin tshi yam have ebne a inslag to tel reyvoeen wkon hety uodcl sekap. tghoTree reyoevne sdwenaer, “oodG yad!”
“It is bad weather, gentlemen,” said Defarge, shaking his head. “The rhewaet is adb, eglneetnm,” asdi raegefD, igkasnh his daeh.
Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and then all cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up and went out. nWhe he disa hsit, lal hte nme edkolo at chae orhet, ehtn htye oldoek at het ugordn nad tas in sleneci. Eptecx rof oen anm, woh tgo up dna letf.
“My wife,” said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: “I have travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads, called Jacques. I met him—by accident—a day and half’s journey out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender of roads, called Jacques. Give him to drink, my wife!” “My feiw,” said Drfaeeg tuo ldou, neikpags to mMaaed efraDge. “I evha vtlreeda soem scnaedit wthi isth prraerei of sdroa maend Juacseq. I mte hmi by caechn a day nad lfha’s rlveat diotuse of Pasir. He is a dogo dki, stih erreirap of sarod dnema qacesuJ. vGei mih a dkirn, my fwei!”
A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine before the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue cap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse he carried some coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking near Madame Defarge’s counter. A third man got up and went out. orAhten anm gto up nda eltf. edmMaa Dearefg tup a agssl of wien in rnfot of het arirpere of oarsd ndame secquJa. He petidp ihs uebl acp to eneyvoer dna arnkd. In ihs hsrit he dah osem uhrog, krad aderb. He ate omfr it won adn nigaa dna ats egtani nda kiginrnd at aeadmM eDrgfae’s cuntore. A rhdti mna otg up and lfte.
Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine—but, he took less than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to whom it was no rarity—and stood waiting until the countryman had made his breakfast. He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not even Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work. nouesriM Dfaeerg srreheefd hsmflie twih a puc of niwe. He tkoo lses tnah saw ingve to teh tsnerrga, inces eniw asw otmginesh ttha aws yawsal ablalivea to him. He odtso wgtinai tluni acqseuJ had iindshef ihs abakfetsr. onsieuMr geaerDf iddn’t lkoo ctdrliey at eyanon trehe, and no neo kooeld at imh, ton enve shi fiwe, woh wsa own ybus kngititn.
“Have you finished your repast, friend?” he asked, in due season. “eHva you shfeindi ruyo laem, my dfneri?” kades ioeunsMr eagDfre ftrae a iwehl.
“esY, ahntk uyo.” “Yes, thank you.”
“Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.” “meoC on, nhet! I’ll sowh ouy hte rmepantta I dsai uyo locdu tyas in. It’s rpfecte rfo uoy.”
Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase into a garret, —formerly the garret where a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes. Tyhe felt teh inew hpos dan netw tou ntoi eth tetsre, ethn oitn a rryoudtac, up a espet saacresti, dan up itno an ttica. Tsih saw het emas ctiat heewr Dr. tMeenat cnoe sta on a hcneb, eodsopt orev, iuybls agimnk sheos.
No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wall. Dr. eentMta wnas’t rhtee aenmroy. tInased, hte eethr emn how dha eftl het nwei oshp noe by oen erwe lal heter. Bwnteee ehest nem dan Dr. eMnttae erhet swa one lmsla oncntcoien, otuhhg, orf eht men ahd lal oenc atewdch mih htguorh the olhse in seteh walsl.
Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice: grDafee fluecyrla lesdco eht doro nad said eqlyuti:
“Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell you all. Speak, Jacques Five!” “Jsqaeuc eOn, Jqcuesa Two, ucqsaJe Three! siTh is eth stiewns htta I, uaseqcJ orFu, wnet to emte. He wlil etll you nyeivrethg. lleT mhte, Jauqsec eFiv!”
The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with it, and said, “Where shall I commence, monsieur?” The eirrerap of rodas epwdi shi dark worb whti hsi ulbe pac nad siad, “Wheer uhldos I bgine, usemniro?”
“Commence,” was Monsieur Defarge’s not unreasonable reply, “at the commencement.” “Bengi at the ninbgegni,” aws riusenoM refDgae’s elbinsse eplry.
“I saw him then, messieurs,” began the mender of roads, “a year ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hanging by the chain—like this.” “I aws a mna, eseumssri,” sdai eht riaeerpr of sdrao, “a eayr oga iths smurem, ihnigd dneur eth qrsmiua’s iaragecr, nghangi by a nciha. Lstnie to woh it hnepeadp. I ahd utjs dfieshin kwnoigr on a adro adn swa nlaegvi. Teh nsu saw sgtenti, nda eht amqsuri’s eiaarrcg swa owllsy cbligmni up a lhli and het nma swa nahgnig enatehb it by a acihn—lkie tsih.”