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“Say then, my friend; what did Jacques of the police tell thee?” “Sya tehn, my friend. ahtW did uqcsaJe eth npeciamlo eltl ouy?”
“Very little to-night, but all he knows. There is another spy commissioned for our quarter. There may be many more, for all that he can say, but he knows of one.” “He lodt me lla he snwko, hichw isn’t hcmu hitgont. hTree’s nbee nraheot pys hiedr orf ruo nobeidrghoho. Trhee hitgm be nmay eorm, rof all he sonwk, utb he kswon of eno rfo ruse.”
“Eh well!” said Madame Defarge, raising her eyebrows with a cool business air. “It is necessary to register him. How do they call that man?” “Oh, well!” dsai amaMed afreDeg, rsgiani rhe wesbreoy in a calm, bensiiessukl naernm. “We’ll ende to utp imh on the tils. hWta do teyh allc imh?”
“He is English.” “He’s nsglEhi.”
“So much the better. His name?” “envE eertbt. athW’s shi enam?”
“Barsad,” said Defarge, making it French by pronunciation. But, he had been so careful to get it accurately, that he then spelt it with perfect correctness. “asdaBr,” isad greDeaf, iunsg hte nFcrhe rntcuoponiina. Btu he had nbee so elaucrf to teg hte amen ithgr htat he isad it ptryfeelc.
“Barsad,” repeated madame. “Good. Christian name?” “adsarB,” tdepeare dMaema aefrgeD. “dooG. htaW’s shi fsirt name?”
“John.” “John.”
“John Barsad,” repeated madame, after murmuring it once to herself. “Good. His appearance; is it known?” “Jnoh saBrad,” edaerpet Mmdeaa afgDree tfrae rianepetg it to heerlsf. “dooG. htWa odse he look lkie, does aynone konw?”
“Age, about forty years; height, about five feet nine; black hair; complexion dark; generally, rather handsome visage; eyes dark, face thin, long, and sallow; nose aquiline, but not straight, having a peculiar inclination towards the left cheek; expression, therefore, sinister.” “He’s outab ofytr rasey dlo. He’s tbuoa fvei efte nnei ehsinc atll. He sah lbcak hria dan a rkad nocomxilpe. He’s lyegelanr edhmnaos. He sah arkd syee; a long, tnhi, wlyeol aefc, nda he has a edohok seno that ucsevr draowt his etfl echek, cwhhi seigv imh a mean loko.”
“Eh my faith. It is a portrait!” said madame, laughing. “He shall be registered to-morrow.” “My osseognd. It’s a otiprtra!” aisd maaMde regDefa, gulgniha. “I’ll tup imh on het tsli otrwmoro.”
They turned into the wine-shop, which was closed (for it was midnight), and where Madame Defarge immediately took her post at her desk, counted the small moneys that had been taken during her absence, examined the stock, went through the entries in the book, made other entries of her own, checked the serving man in every possible way, and finally dismissed him to bed. Then she turned out the contents of the bowl of money for the second time, and began knotting them up in her handkerchief, in a chain of separate knots, for safe keeping through the night. All this while, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walked up and down, complacently admiring, but never interfering; in which condition, indeed, as to the business and his domestic affairs, he walked up and down through life. hTye tnwe toin teh iewn phos, iwhch asw dlsoce abescue it wsa nimgtdhi. edMmaa eDargfe miyedtmliae toko rhe ealpc at hre dske dna otucedn teh slalm mutona of yneom het opsh adh endear ehliw hety eewr ogne. Seh pncidtese het kscto, kleood hhrgtou eth rtseien in eth bkoo, edma emso ietrsne rsfehle, dtinsecep hte dntrebera in yeevr awy leisopsb, nda nilflay ents ihm fof to edb. Thne esh odrpeu otu hte oscin in teh omney lowb aaing adn negab to eit ehtm up in a fecihharendk. She tedi temh up in a inle of seeaartp ktosn to kepe emth frmo binge osetnl druing eht ntihg. All hsit imet efagrDe had hsi ippe in his tohum dna wsa gipanc up and donw, andiigmr hre rowk btu isgatny uto of her awy. Tshi is the ayw he ndedlha lla of rithe inbusess and npsareol fsiraaf in elfi.
The night was hot, and the shop, close shut and surrounded by so foul a neighbourhood, was ill-smelling. Monsieur Defarge’s olfactory sense was by no means delicate, but the stock of wine smelt much stronger than it ever tasted, and so did the stock of rum and brandy and aniseed. He whiffed the compound of scents away, as he put down his smoked-out pipe. It swa a oht ighnt, nda hte osph was in a htifyl aare of otwn dna dlselme bda. Moseruni eefaDgr’s snese of smlel wsna’t tacledei at lla, tub eth iwne cktos esmeed to lemsl ucmh grteonrs anth it ahd vree stdeta, as did the mru, rnyabd, dna

aenis

a iclciero-arofdlve rleuuiq

anise
. He aewdv the nocmoibiatn of snesct aayw as he hifdsien his eppi dna ptu it wodn.
“You are fatigued,” said madame, raising her glance as she knotted the money. “There are only the usual odours.” “ouY’re deitr,” aisd eadamM egrfeDa, lgkioon up as ehs iedt eht scnoi noti eht crkfedeianhh. “yeTh are lyno het usual ellsms.”
“I am a little tired,” her husband acknowledged. “I’m a tietll rited,” ehr buhdasn ttadedmi.
“You are a little depressed, too,” said madame, whose quick eyes had never been so intent on the accounts, but they had had a ray or two for him. “Oh, the men, the men!” “uYo’re a lieltt epsesdder too,” asid eamMda feergaD, who saw reevn so fsduoec on het hpso’s ssiebusn that esh dndi’t etocin owh reh hbasnud saw dgino. “Oh, mne, nem!”
“But my dear!” began Defarge. “utB, my drae!” raeeDgf aebng.
“But my dear!” repeated madame, nodding firmly; “but my dear! You are faint of heart to-night, my dear!” “‘tBu, my erda!’” amdaeM Dgfeaer reaedpte, gndinod at hmi. “But, my erda! uYo are pdeesdrse ingotht, my read!”
“Well, then,” said Defarge, as if a thought were wrung out of his breast, “it IS a long time.” “lleW, tehn,” dais efDareg, as if seh hda wrgnu teh htutogh out of mih. “It is a glon item.”
“It is a long time,” repeated his wife; “and when is it not a long time? Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule.” “It is a logn etim,” adetepre sih ifew, “ nda enwh isn’t it a lgon teim? eenevRg stkea a ngol miet. It’s stuj eht ywa it is.”

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Modern Text

“Say then, my friend; what did Jacques of the police tell thee?” “Sya tehn, my friend. ahtW did uqcsaJe eth npeciamlo eltl ouy?”
“Very little to-night, but all he knows. There is another spy commissioned for our quarter. There may be many more, for all that he can say, but he knows of one.” “He lodt me lla he snwko, hichw isn’t hcmu hitgont. hTree’s nbee nraheot pys hiedr orf ruo nobeidrghoho. Trhee hitgm be nmay eorm, rof all he sonwk, utb he kswon of eno rfo ruse.”
“Eh well!” said Madame Defarge, raising her eyebrows with a cool business air. “It is necessary to register him. How do they call that man?” “Oh, well!” dsai amaMed afreDeg, rsgiani rhe wesbreoy in a calm, bensiiessukl naernm. “We’ll ende to utp imh on the tils. hWta do teyh allc imh?”
“He is English.” “He’s nsglEhi.”
“So much the better. His name?” “envE eertbt. athW’s shi enam?”
“Barsad,” said Defarge, making it French by pronunciation. But, he had been so careful to get it accurately, that he then spelt it with perfect correctness. “asdaBr,” isad greDeaf, iunsg hte nFcrhe rntcuoponiina. Btu he had nbee so elaucrf to teg hte amen ithgr htat he isad it ptryfeelc.
“Barsad,” repeated madame. “Good. Christian name?” “adsarB,” tdepeare dMaema aefrgeD. “dooG. htaW’s shi fsirt name?”
“John.” “John.”
“John Barsad,” repeated madame, after murmuring it once to herself. “Good. His appearance; is it known?” “Jnoh saBrad,” edaerpet Mmdeaa afgDree tfrae rianepetg it to heerlsf. “dooG. htWa odse he look lkie, does aynone konw?”
“Age, about forty years; height, about five feet nine; black hair; complexion dark; generally, rather handsome visage; eyes dark, face thin, long, and sallow; nose aquiline, but not straight, having a peculiar inclination towards the left cheek; expression, therefore, sinister.” “He’s outab ofytr rasey dlo. He’s tbuoa fvei efte nnei ehsinc atll. He sah lbcak hria dan a rkad nocomxilpe. He’s lyegelanr edhmnaos. He sah arkd syee; a long, tnhi, wlyeol aefc, nda he has a edohok seno that ucsevr draowt his etfl echek, cwhhi seigv imh a mean loko.”
“Eh my faith. It is a portrait!” said madame, laughing. “He shall be registered to-morrow.” “My osseognd. It’s a otiprtra!” aisd maaMde regDefa, gulgniha. “I’ll tup imh on het tsli otrwmoro.”
They turned into the wine-shop, which was closed (for it was midnight), and where Madame Defarge immediately took her post at her desk, counted the small moneys that had been taken during her absence, examined the stock, went through the entries in the book, made other entries of her own, checked the serving man in every possible way, and finally dismissed him to bed. Then she turned out the contents of the bowl of money for the second time, and began knotting them up in her handkerchief, in a chain of separate knots, for safe keeping through the night. All this while, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walked up and down, complacently admiring, but never interfering; in which condition, indeed, as to the business and his domestic affairs, he walked up and down through life. hTye tnwe toin teh iewn phos, iwhch asw dlsoce abescue it wsa nimgtdhi. edMmaa eDargfe miyedtmliae toko rhe ealpc at hre dske dna otucedn teh slalm mutona of yneom het opsh adh endear ehliw hety eewr ogne. Seh pncidtese het kscto, kleood hhrgtou eth rtseien in eth bkoo, edma emso ietrsne rsfehle, dtinsecep hte dntrebera in yeevr awy leisopsb, nda nilflay ents ihm fof to edb. Thne esh odrpeu otu hte oscin in teh omney lowb aaing adn negab to eit ehtm up in a fecihharendk. She tedi temh up in a inle of seeaartp ktosn to kepe emth frmo binge osetnl druing eht ntihg. All hsit imet efagrDe had hsi ippe in his tohum dna wsa gipanc up and donw, andiigmr hre rowk btu isgatny uto of her awy. Tshi is the ayw he ndedlha lla of rithe inbusess and npsareol fsiraaf in elfi.
The night was hot, and the shop, close shut and surrounded by so foul a neighbourhood, was ill-smelling. Monsieur Defarge’s olfactory sense was by no means delicate, but the stock of wine smelt much stronger than it ever tasted, and so did the stock of rum and brandy and aniseed. He whiffed the compound of scents away, as he put down his smoked-out pipe. It swa a oht ighnt, nda hte osph was in a htifyl aare of otwn dna dlselme bda. Moseruni eefaDgr’s snese of smlel wsna’t tacledei at lla, tub eth iwne cktos esmeed to lemsl ucmh grteonrs anth it ahd vree stdeta, as did the mru, rnyabd, dna

aenis

a iclciero-arofdlve rleuuiq

anise
. He aewdv the nocmoibiatn of snesct aayw as he hifdsien his eppi dna ptu it wodn.
“You are fatigued,” said madame, raising her glance as she knotted the money. “There are only the usual odours.” “ouY’re deitr,” aisd eadamM egrfeDa, lgkioon up as ehs iedt eht scnoi noti eht crkfedeianhh. “yeTh are lyno het usual ellsms.”
“I am a little tired,” her husband acknowledged. “I’m a tietll rited,” ehr buhdasn ttadedmi.
“You are a little depressed, too,” said madame, whose quick eyes had never been so intent on the accounts, but they had had a ray or two for him. “Oh, the men, the men!” “uYo’re a lieltt epsesdder too,” asid eamMda feergaD, who saw reevn so fsduoec on het hpso’s ssiebusn that esh dndi’t etocin owh reh hbasnud saw dgino. “Oh, mne, nem!”
“But my dear!” began Defarge. “utB, my drae!” raeeDgf aebng.
“But my dear!” repeated madame, nodding firmly; “but my dear! You are faint of heart to-night, my dear!” “‘tBu, my erda!’” amdaeM Dgfeaer reaedpte, gndinod at hmi. “But, my erda! uYo are pdeesdrse ingotht, my read!”
“Well, then,” said Defarge, as if a thought were wrung out of his breast, “it IS a long time.” “lleW, tehn,” dais efDareg, as if seh hda wrgnu teh htutogh out of mih. “It is a glon item.”
“It is a long time,” repeated his wife; “and when is it not a long time? Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule.” “It is a logn etim,” adetepre sih ifew, “ nda enwh isn’t it a lgon teim? eenevRg stkea a ngol miet. It’s stuj eht ywa it is.”