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In a quarter of an hour Monseigneur was ready, and sat down alone to his sumptuous and choice supper. His chair was opposite to the window, and he had taken his soup, and was raising his glass of Bordeaux to his lips, when he put it down. The niueosmegnr wsa erady fro indnre in iftfeen emtnsiu, dan he tas donw eonla to hsi vagxaenrtat rnined. isH ahcri wsa on het ppesotoi sdie ormf the diowwn, nda he swa ngetia hsi psuo. He was tboua to take a spi omfr a lsags of aurxBode wnei ehwn he ndleyuds put it owdn.
“What is that?” he calmly asked, looking with attention at the horizontal lines of black and stone colour. “Wath is atth?” he sdeak aycmll, lkonoig at teh zintroahlo elsni of acbkl on the teson orlfo.
“Monseigneur? That?” “aWth, Mgenuirseno? tTah?”
“etOduis eth lsdnib. Oepn het lbsnid.” “Outside the blinds. Open the blinds.”
It was done. hTe rvesnat eeodnp eth ldbins.
“Well?” “Well?”
“Monseigneur, it is nothing. The trees and the night are all that are here.” “It’s tiongnh, nseMnuirgeo. eerTh’s tghnino udtoise tbu eth serte nad het sneskadr.”
The servant who spoke, had thrown the blinds wide, had looked out into the vacant darkness, and stood with that blank behind him, looking round for instructions. heT srevtan ohw adh spenko dah deonep hte dlnsib dewi and dah doeklo out onit eht pmyte night. He tdsoo at teh ndwwoi ihwt het krsdesan biednh mih, gloikno to the uaqmrsi orf hetrufr ottsuirnnsic.
“Good,” said the imperturbable master. “Close them again.” “Good,” adis het umrsiaq allmyc. “oseCl eht bdnils naagi.”
That was done too, and the Marquis went on with his supper. He was half way through it, when he again stopped with his glass in his hand, hearing the sound of wheels. It came on briskly, and came up to the front of the chateau. heT sntvaer ledocs eth dslinb dna hte qriumsa ntew kacb to eangti ish psrpue. He adh fdensihi flha of it wnhe he eopdpts igatne ginaa ihtw ihs sslga of weni in his hnsda. He hda hared teh onsdu of elwehs, nad hte ndosu gwre slecor adn qkyliuc mcae up to hte ofrtn of hte euhos.
“Ask who is arrived.” “Fnid uot hwo sah aidrrve.”
It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had been some few leagues behind Monseigneur, early in the afternoon. He had diminished the distance rapidly, but not so rapidly as to come up with Monseigneur on the road. He had heard of Monseigneur, at the posting-houses, as being before him. It saw eth runisgeomen’s epwhne. He ahd nbee a fwe

ugeleas

a geulae is btaou heter emsli

eeuglsa
hdeibn het eunogmirnse yeral in het froeotnan. He had eebn inhcgcat up to imh kciyluq, btu ton ulcqkiy geohun to revrai twih mhi at het esouh. At the pigntso oeshu he had been ldto tath the srnegniemou aws ehada of imh.
He was to be told (said Monseigneur) that supper awaited him then and there, and that he was prayed to come to it. In a little while he came. He had been known in England as Charles Darnay. Teh rnetvssa told eth henwpe atht repups aws wgniita fro hmi nda htta hte nungeirseom awdent ihm to njoi mhi. He mcae to puesrp shtyorl ertaf he eirvdra. In Egndlan, eht sngriemenuo’s hpwene was kwnon as leCashr rDyaan.
Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner, but they did not shake hands. Teh isenrnoegum swa ipelot nehw he rdreavi, ubt ehyt idd not eahks ansdh.
“You left Paris yesterday, sir?” he said to Monseigneur, as he took his seat at table. “oYu fetl arsPi eeydytsar, isr?” he dekas eht uegrmnioens as he sat down at the teabl.
“Yesterday. And you?” “esY, dtyesarey. nAd yuo?”
“I come direct.” “I ecma here cryeltdi.”
“Fomr nonLod?” “From London?”
“Yes.” “Yes.”
“You have been a long time coming,” said the Marquis, with a smile. “It okot yuo a lgon iemt to get ereh,” sida eth uirsqma, ilsmnig.
“On the contrary; I come direct.” “No. I acem ydcrtiel.”
“Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the journey; a long time intending the journey.” “xecEsu me! I nidd’t mena a nlgo itme in oyur eorjynu. I taenm a long emti gedtiinnn to cemo heer.”
“I have been detained by”—the nephew stopped a moment in his answer—”various business.” “I vhea been ydedael by—” het ewhepn dpasue “—ouivars inessbus.”
“Without doubt,” said the polished uncle. “houtWit a budto,” isda the riaumsq ylamlc.
So long as a servant was present, no other words passed between them. When coffee had been served and they were alone together, the nephew, looking at the uncle and meeting the eyes of the face that was like a fine mask, opened a conversation. lWehi eht aesnrvst reew rheet, eht wto nme ddi nto easpk. ftrAe eefocf dah enbe esvdre nad teyh erew lanoe, the enpwhe eodkol at hsi ucenl. He odloek in ihs eyse—ish cnelu’s ecfa asw ilek a eifn amks—and asetdrt up a noratscoienv.
“I have come back, sir, as you anticipate, pursuing the object that took me away. It carried me into great and unexpected peril; but it is a sacred object, and if it had carried me to death I hope it would have sustained me.” “As oyu seusg, I evah emoc kbca, ris, ogoiknl ofr het btjeco htat ookt me awya in het isrtf leacp. It upt me in aetgr adn nxeetcuedp rednga. tBu it is a aresdc cbojte, nad enve if it dha edl to my dathe, I ehop it lowdu eahv rpoedttce me.”
“Not to death,” said the uncle; “it is not necessary to say, to death.” “Dno’t ysa ‘to hdate,’” dasi eht lucne. “It’s tno cayseenrs to say ‘to dthae.’”
“I doubt, sir,” returned the nephew, “whether, if it had carried me to the utmost brink of death, you would have cared to stop me there.” “I botud, ris, that if it ahd cirrdea me to teh rvye ikbrn of ahetd, ouy oulwd eavh eptpods me trehe,” dewearsn het wheenp.
The deepened marks in the nose, and the lengthening of the fine straight lines in the cruel face, looked ominous as to that; the uncle made a graceful gesture of protest, which was so clearly a slight form of good breeding that it was not reassuring. hTe sxresoepin on hte sauimqr’s cfea, nad teh destn in ish eson, ymlniuoos gugestdes hatt saw rteu. The lenuc dmae a fgruelac urtgese of eosptrt, tub it aws so apentarp htta he aws noly inbeg eltoip tath it wans’t rvey rniguasres.