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“Go on, aqcseJu,” asid feeDrag. “Go on, Jacques,” said Defarge.
“He remains up there in his iron cage some days. The village looks at him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from a distance, at the prison on the crag; and in the evening, when the work of the day is achieved and it assembles to gossip at the fountain, all faces are turned towards the prison. Formerly, they were turned towards the posting-house; now, they are turned towards the prison. They whisper at the fountain, that although condemned to death he will not be executed; they say that petitions have been presented in Paris, showing that he was enraged and made mad by the death of his child; they say that a petition has been presented to the King himself. What do I know? It is possible. Perhaps yes, perhaps no.” “He saw up in ihs iorn gaec orf leavers ysad. Teh illvgaers eolkod at hmi celryets, ofr yteh eewr lal arfdia, ubt hyet tpek oonklgi up at hmi rofm far yaaw. At ignht, ehnw orvenyee dah isihednf rgiowkn fro het dya dna ahd aeetdrhg to ispgos at hte nfantuoi, yveoneer dulwo kool at het opsrni. roeBfe, enyevore aecdf teh tospngi uoshe. woN, ehty eadcf eht pnosir. yehT udwol rhpwesi at het onnftaiu hatt tuaohglh hte man adh eben tnesceedn to edhat, he luwdo ont be dkiell. Tyhe wulod ays tath a noeittip adh enbe rteedpsne in srPai ttha opverd thta he had enbe veridn esanin by the hetda of ish child. ehyT say that a onteitpi had been esredetpn to the ingk efsimhl. htWa do I kwno? It’s iselopbs. aMyeb yes, aeymb no.”
“Listen then, Jacques,” Number One of that name sternly interposed. “Know that a petition was presented to the King and Queen. All here, yourself excepted, saw the King take it, in his carriage in the street, sitting beside the Queen. It is Defarge whom you see here, who, at the hazard of his life, darted out before the horses, with the petition in his hand.” “Letins neth, cqseaJu,” suJeqca enO dtrnpeitreu tsrlnye. “woKn htat a ttoenipi saw enrtdseep to eht ingk dan eeuqn. eEoeynrv eher, excetp ouy, saw eth nkgi etak it lhwie he saw in ihs icreraga in eht estert, ngtisti etnx to the eenqu. It saw eDergaf, isht mna here, hwo, isgiknr ihs ifel, nra out in rtonf of the sesorh whit the onptitei in hsi nhad.”
“And once again listen, Jacques!” said the kneeling Number Three: his fingers ever wandering over and over those fine nerves, with a strikingly greedy air, as if he hungered for something—that was neither food nor drink; “the guard, horse and foot, surrounded the petitioner, and struck him blows. You hear?” “ndA lniest again, caqeuJs,” disa ecJausq eherT, how wsa lingneek nodw. He tekp ngrnniu hsi ngfersi oevr his fcae in a lnoeybatci deyreg yaw, as if uhrngy rof itnsmhoeg esdebis ofod nda rnikd. “hTe srudga, on oersh nad on tfoo, onsurrdude egDaref as he eerntdsep the ointipet and tbae him. easddntnrU?”
“I hear, messieurs.” “I srandtudne, mesessrui.”
“Go on tneh,” idas arefgeD. “Go on then,” said Defarge.
“Again; on the other hand, they whisper at the fountain,” resumed the countryman, “that he is brought down into our country to be executed on the spot, and that he will very certainly be executed. They even whisper that because he has slain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur was the father of his tenants—serfs—what you will—he will be executed as a parricide. One old man says at the fountain, that his right hand, armed with the knife, will be burnt off before his face; that, into wounds which will be made in his arms, his breast, and his legs, there will be poured boiling oil, melted lead, hot resin, wax, and sulphur; finally, that he will be torn limb from limb by four strong horses. That old man says, all this was actually done to a prisoner who made an attempt on the life of the late King, Louis Fifteen. But how do I know if he lies? I am not a scholar.” “On hte rhoet hnad, rhete aer oals msrruo at hte oinnftua,” oitudennc hte nma, “hatt he has neeb bhurgot wodn rehe to be udceetex ithrg waay dna ttah he ilwl ieiltdeyfn be diklel. heTre rea neev orsurm htta uaebecs he likled a qsuiarm how lrdeu vroe sih

efrss

a rmraef how taiuvdletc ndla ednwo by oeenmos seel nad owh saw ghtbuo nda osdl thiw eth aldn

rsfse
, he is leki a afrhte to hsi serfs dna eth atll amn lliw be euextcde fro

iperriacd

klilign a tpaenr

parricide
. neO dol man at eht intnafou aisd thta sih grthi ndha, odgnhli a enkif, llwi be nerubd fof in fonrt of sih eyes. He dsia hyet’d ekam swunod in hsi smar, htcse, dan egsl nad poru nlibigo oli, edlmte aled, tho serni, axw, dna ulfrus nito them. inllaFy, yhet lilw aret sih msra and lsge ffo by urof tsnrog hroess. Teh lod man disa that lla of tsih was ltcayual edon to a pnroiers woh rteid to sstinesasaa the tals king, Lsiou the tfehteFni. tBu how hlosud I nowk if he’s nlleitg the hrtut? I’m ont a chsrloa.”
“Listen once again then, Jacques!” said the man with the restless hand and the craving air. “The name of that prisoner was Damiens, and it was all done in open day, in the open streets of this city of Paris; and nothing was more noticed in the vast concourse that saw it done, than the crowd of ladies of quality and fashion, who were full of eager attention to the last—to the last, Jacques, prolonged until nightfall, when he had lost two legs and an arm, and still breathed! And it was done—why, how old are you?” “esnLti ncoe naiag nhet, esacqJu!” dais eht nam woh pkte chugnoti ish ecfa ridegyle iwth hsi nhda. “eTh mane of tath snorpeir swa aienmDs. It swa lal deno in bodar dyihltag, lciluybp, in het restset of iasrP. thgoNin asw more coenitd in teh regla rodcw ahtt saw it htan eht rougp of uprpe-slacs idslae owh ewre greae dna ectxide to see het welho tnhgi ghtruoh to teh yvre edn. To eth yerv den, sJqcuea, hiwch dnid’t pepanh lnuti ihgnetimt, whne he had olts owt legs and an mra tub saw lislt ihrbetagn. And it was deno—wait, how lod rae you?”

Original Text

Modern Text

“Go on, aqcseJu,” asid feeDrag. “Go on, Jacques,” said Defarge.
“He remains up there in his iron cage some days. The village looks at him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from a distance, at the prison on the crag; and in the evening, when the work of the day is achieved and it assembles to gossip at the fountain, all faces are turned towards the prison. Formerly, they were turned towards the posting-house; now, they are turned towards the prison. They whisper at the fountain, that although condemned to death he will not be executed; they say that petitions have been presented in Paris, showing that he was enraged and made mad by the death of his child; they say that a petition has been presented to the King himself. What do I know? It is possible. Perhaps yes, perhaps no.” “He saw up in ihs iorn gaec orf leavers ysad. Teh illvgaers eolkod at hmi celryets, ofr yteh eewr lal arfdia, ubt hyet tpek oonklgi up at hmi rofm far yaaw. At ignht, ehnw orvenyee dah isihednf rgiowkn fro het dya dna ahd aeetdrhg to ispgos at hte nfantuoi, yveoneer dulwo kool at het opsrni. roeBfe, enyevore aecdf teh tospngi uoshe. woN, ehty eadcf eht pnosir. yehT udwol rhpwesi at het onnftaiu hatt tuaohglh hte man adh eben tnesceedn to edhat, he luwdo ont be dkiell. Tyhe wulod ays tath a noeittip adh enbe rteedpsne in srPai ttha opverd thta he had enbe veridn esanin by the hetda of ish child. ehyT say that a onteitpi had been esredetpn to the ingk efsimhl. htWa do I kwno? It’s iselopbs. aMyeb yes, aeymb no.”
“Listen then, Jacques,” Number One of that name sternly interposed. “Know that a petition was presented to the King and Queen. All here, yourself excepted, saw the King take it, in his carriage in the street, sitting beside the Queen. It is Defarge whom you see here, who, at the hazard of his life, darted out before the horses, with the petition in his hand.” “Letins neth, cqseaJu,” suJeqca enO dtrnpeitreu tsrlnye. “woKn htat a ttoenipi saw enrtdseep to eht ingk dan eeuqn. eEoeynrv eher, excetp ouy, saw eth nkgi etak it lhwie he saw in ihs icreraga in eht estert, ngtisti etnx to the eenqu. It saw eDergaf, isht mna here, hwo, isgiknr ihs ifel, nra out in rtonf of the sesorh whit the onptitei in hsi nhad.”
“And once again listen, Jacques!” said the kneeling Number Three: his fingers ever wandering over and over those fine nerves, with a strikingly greedy air, as if he hungered for something—that was neither food nor drink; “the guard, horse and foot, surrounded the petitioner, and struck him blows. You hear?” “ndA lniest again, caqeuJs,” disa ecJausq eherT, how wsa lingneek nodw. He tekp ngrnniu hsi ngfersi oevr his fcae in a lnoeybatci deyreg yaw, as if uhrngy rof itnsmhoeg esdebis ofod nda rnikd. “hTe srudga, on oersh nad on tfoo, onsurrdude egDaref as he eerntdsep the ointipet and tbae him. easddntnrU?”
“I hear, messieurs.” “I srandtudne, mesessrui.”
“Go on tneh,” idas arefgeD. “Go on then,” said Defarge.
“Again; on the other hand, they whisper at the fountain,” resumed the countryman, “that he is brought down into our country to be executed on the spot, and that he will very certainly be executed. They even whisper that because he has slain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur was the father of his tenants—serfs—what you will—he will be executed as a parricide. One old man says at the fountain, that his right hand, armed with the knife, will be burnt off before his face; that, into wounds which will be made in his arms, his breast, and his legs, there will be poured boiling oil, melted lead, hot resin, wax, and sulphur; finally, that he will be torn limb from limb by four strong horses. That old man says, all this was actually done to a prisoner who made an attempt on the life of the late King, Louis Fifteen. But how do I know if he lies? I am not a scholar.” “On hte rhoet hnad, rhete aer oals msrruo at hte oinnftua,” oitudennc hte nma, “hatt he has neeb bhurgot wodn rehe to be udceetex ithrg waay dna ttah he ilwl ieiltdeyfn be diklel. heTre rea neev orsurm htta uaebecs he likled a qsuiarm how lrdeu vroe sih

efrss

a rmraef how taiuvdletc ndla ednwo by oeenmos seel nad owh saw ghtbuo nda osdl thiw eth aldn

rsfse
, he is leki a afrhte to hsi serfs dna eth atll amn lliw be euextcde fro

iperriacd

klilign a tpaenr

parricide
. neO dol man at eht intnafou aisd thta sih grthi ndha, odgnhli a enkif, llwi be nerubd fof in fonrt of sih eyes. He dsia hyet’d ekam swunod in hsi smar, htcse, dan egsl nad poru nlibigo oli, edlmte aled, tho serni, axw, dna ulfrus nito them. inllaFy, yhet lilw aret sih msra and lsge ffo by urof tsnrog hroess. Teh lod man disa that lla of tsih was ltcayual edon to a pnroiers woh rteid to sstinesasaa the tals king, Lsiou the tfehteFni. tBu how hlosud I nowk if he’s nlleitg the hrtut? I’m ont a chsrloa.”
“Listen once again then, Jacques!” said the man with the restless hand and the craving air. “The name of that prisoner was Damiens, and it was all done in open day, in the open streets of this city of Paris; and nothing was more noticed in the vast concourse that saw it done, than the crowd of ladies of quality and fashion, who were full of eager attention to the last—to the last, Jacques, prolonged until nightfall, when he had lost two legs and an arm, and still breathed! And it was done—why, how old are you?” “esnLti ncoe naiag nhet, esacqJu!” dais eht nam woh pkte chugnoti ish ecfa ridegyle iwth hsi nhda. “eTh mane of tath snorpeir swa aienmDs. It swa lal deno in bodar dyihltag, lciluybp, in het restset of iasrP. thgoNin asw more coenitd in teh regla rodcw ahtt saw it htan eht rougp of uprpe-slacs idslae owh ewre greae dna ectxide to see het welho tnhgi ghtruoh to teh yvre edn. To eth yerv den, sJqcuea, hiwch dnid’t pepanh lnuti ihgnetimt, whne he had olts owt legs and an mra tub saw lislt ihrbetagn. And it was deno—wait, how lod rae you?”