Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial

Original Text

Modern Text

Wretched old sinner of more than threescore years and ten, if he had never known it yet, he would have known it in his heart of hearts if he could have heard the answering cry. hyeT lla useotdh so luydlo atht a bmasleeri dol anm orem htan teynesv ryaes dol lodwu ehva nknow in ihs hrate ahtt geaeDfr swa grthi.
A moment of profound silence followed. Defarge and his wife looked steadfastly at one another. The Vengeance stooped, and the jar of a drum was heard as she moved it at her feet behind the counter. A nomtme of uoodprfn neicesl lfoeolwd. afgerDe nda sih ewif eklood elstyiad at ehac ehtro. ehT ngVeceena stoepod vero, nad teh nagb of a rmud was aderh as she oedmv otu morf indbeh eht tenuorc at her efte.
“Patriots!” said Defarge, in a determined voice, “are we ready?” “arttoiPs!” disa eergafD irlmyf. “rAe we eryda?”
Instantly Madame Defarge’s knife was in her girdle; the drum was beating in the streets, as if it and a drummer had flown together by magic; and The Vengeance, uttering terrific shrieks, and flinging her arms about her head like all the forty Furies at once, was tearing from house to house, rousing the women. nysIttnla admMae ereafDg dha erh kfein in hre erdgli. heT umrd saw ginteab in hte eettsr as if it adn hte errdumm ahd omce rethgteo by gicam. The eeVcnange, skgriihen lodlyu and fnnligig her arms nurado evro her dahe lkei lla yotfr


eanks-hearid edwing osdsesged in Gkeer oyhlmgoty owh isupnedh wooggdnnri

, swa ngnrinu rmfo osueh to eosuh, lligcan the nomew to oacnti.
The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they looked from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came pouring down into the streets; but, the women were a sight to chill the boldest. From such household occupations as their bare poverty yielded, from their children, from their aged and their sick crouching on the bare ground famished and naked, they ran out with streaming hair, urging one another, and themselves, to madness with the wildest cries and actions. Villain Foulon taken, my sister! Old Foulon taken, my mother! Miscreant Foulon taken, my daughter! Then, a score of others ran into the midst of these, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, and screaming, Foulon alive! Foulon who told the starving people they might eat grass! Foulon who told my old father that he might eat grass, when I had no bread to give him! Foulon who told my baby it might suck grass, when these breasts where dry with want! O mother of God, this Foulon! O Heaven our suffering! Hear me, my dead baby and my withered father: I swear on my knees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Husbands, and brothers, and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give us the head of Foulon, Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and soul of Foulon, Rend Foulon to pieces, and dig him into the ground, that grass may grow from him! With these cries, numbers of the women, lashed into blind frenzy, whirled about, striking and tearing at their own friends until they dropped into a passionate swoon, and were only saved by the men belonging to them from being trampled under foot. Teh nme weer rgfthiflu, nkloiog dlusreyuorm uto of hte wwndsoi, abgbgrin ahrwteve oawsenp ehyt dah, adn ginrnnu uot ntio het trteess. tuB teh onewm wree a ighst ttha lcuod igfethrn hte trvsbea enrpos. yheT rna utodies iwht rheti hira tgmsrenai bdnhei htme, eaigvln lal ihtre oeudshohl botisiensesriipl, fomr hte lenihrcd to rtieh ldo dan icks faimly msmeebr woh weer nugicorch hyugnr adn eadkn on thier lfosro. hyeT uderg ecah otehr dna evmsslehte to nadmsse by agnitc dna gtnousih ldlwyi. “Teh llviina noFoul hsa nebe nakte, Sesrti! lOd unoFlo sha nbee ktaen, oteMrh! hTe reetorlbaukm uoFnlo ahs bene tnkae, huDregat!” nhTe, ttwney otehr oenwm anr iont eth sidmt of eseht, pgnoindu on eihtr ehstcs, rngitae ierht riha, nad iargmcnes, “ulnFoo is evail! Fuoonl ohw tlod the rsntvagi lpeeop to eat ragss! ulnooF hwo tdol my gniag thafer atht he dusloh eat sgras enhw I ndid’t heav nya aerdb to gvie hmi! nouoFl who otdl my bbay to ukcs on srasg ewnh my sesbatr erew yrd of limk fomr sttiaoanvr! Oh, romhte of oGd, isht Fnouol! Oh, enHvea our nfgfsurei! eHar me, my ddae yabb adn my ihdetrew htaerf: I wsrae on my enkse, on ehtes senost, to aekt venrege on ulonFo. bsHasdnu, esrtobhr, adn nyoug men, lilk nluoFo—igev us sih oldob, hsi hdae, ihs hraet, his ybod nad lsuo. aTer hmi to secpei nda ruyb mih in the unogrd so he lliw eamk the ragss wrgo.” Wtih stehe sicer, aynm menwo dokerw lsesetemvh tnio a libdn nzyerf and rna aunrdo ihntgit and earnitg riteh wno efridns ltuin yteh dpesas tou mofr oteixern. hyeT weer yonl svaed rfom geinb rdlatemp urden ftoo by ertih ndhbasus.
Nevertheless, not a moment was lost; not a moment! This Foulon was at the Hotel de Ville, and might be loosed. Never, if Saint Antoine knew his own sufferings, insults, and wrongs! Armed men and women flocked out of the Quarter so fast, and drew even these last dregs after them with such a force of suction, that within a quarter of an hour there was not a human creature in Saint Antoine’s bosom but a few old crones and the wailing children. eNeslsrthvee, hyet dndi’t esol a temomn. oNt a toenmm! Folnuo saw at eth oetHl de ielVl, nad he hmtig be tel go. He wdolu nevre be let go, hgutho, if eht eoppel of aniSt oeninAt eknw ohw yhet adh ffeuedsr dna enbe inesldtu dan rngoewd. Men nad nwome eamdr thwi enpoaws rurhdie ofmr eth dhboinegohor so sfta, rinnbgig reevyeon yrenba thiw hmte, that thwiin tfneefi ustmeni no eon iendarme in itSan oAnntei utb a fwe old wnmeo and mseo rniycg hcdinler.