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“It is as the good patriot says,” observed the timid functionary. “You are an aristocrat, and must have an escort—and must pay for it.” “What this man says is true,” said the timid official. “You are an aristocrat and so you need an escort. And you must pay us for it.”
“I have no choice,” said Charles Darnay. “I have no choice,” said Charles Darnay.
“Choice! Listen to him!” cried the same scowling red-cap. “As if it was not a favour to be protected from the lamp-iron!” “Choice! Listen to him!” yelled the same angry man in the red cap. “As if we weren’t doing him a favor by keeping him from being hanged from a streetlamp!”
“It is always as the good patriot says,” observed the functionary. “Rise and dress yourself, emigrant.” “What this patriot says is always right,” said the official. “Get up and get dressed, emigrant.”
Darnay complied, and was taken back to the guard-house, where other patriots in rough red caps were smoking, drinking, and sleeping, by a watch-fire. Here he paid a heavy price for his escort, and hence he started with it on the wet, wet roads at three o’clock in the morning. Darnay did as he was told. He was taken back to the guardhouse where other patriots in rough red caps were smoking, drinking, and sleeping by a campfire. He paid them a great deal of money to be his escort, and then they started out on the wet roads at three o’clock in the morning.
The escort were two mounted patriots in red caps and tri-coloured cockades, armed with national muskets and sabres, who rode one on either side of him. The escort was made up of two patriots in red caps and three-colored


an ornament worn on a hat as a badge

. They were armed with muskets and sabers and rode along on horses on either side of him.
The escorted governed his own horse, but a loose line was attached to his bridle, the end of which one of the patriots kept girded round his wrist. In this state they set forth with the sharp rain driving in their faces: clattering at a heavy dragoon trot over the uneven town pavement, and out upon the mire-deep roads. In this state they traversed without change, except of horses and pace, all the mire-deep leagues that lay between them and the capital. Charles Darnay controlled his own horse, but a loose rope was tied to the bridle. One of the escorts kept the end of the rope tied around his wrist. They headed out this way with the rain hitting their faces, clattering at a quick trot over the uneven paved street of the town and out onto the muddy roads. They occasionally changed horses or changed the pace at which they were traveling, but otherwise nothing changed during the whole muddy journey to Paris.
They travelled in the night, halting an hour or two after daybreak, and lying by until the twilight fell. The escort were so wretchedly clothed, that they twisted straw round their bare legs, and thatched their ragged shoulders to keep the wet off. Apart from the personal discomfort of being so attended, and apart from such considerations of present danger as arose from one of the patriots being chronically drunk, and carrying his musket very recklessly, Charles Darnay did not allow the restraint that was laid upon him to awaken any serious fears in his breast; for, he reasoned with himself that it could have no reference to the merits of an individual case that was not yet stated, and of representations, confirmable by the prisoner in the Abbaye, that were not yet made. They traveled at night, stopping an hour or two after daybreak and waiting until twilight to start again. The escorts were dressed so poorly that they wrapped straw around their bare legs and their shoulders to keep from getting wet. Besides the inconvenience of having the escort, and the danger of one of the escorts always being drunk and carrying his musket in a reckless way, Charles Darnay didn’t fear being treated as a captive. It had nothing to do with his particular situation, he thought. He hadn’t explained why he was there yet, and he knew his story could be confirmed by Gabelle, the prisoner at the Abbaye Prison.
But when they came to the town of Beauvais—which they did at eventide, when the streets were filled with people—he could not conceal from himself that the aspect of affairs was very alarming. An ominous crowd gathered to see him dismount of the posting-yard, and many voices called out loudly, “Down with the emigrant!” They came to the town of Beauvais in the evening. The streets were filled with people, and now Darnay couldn’t help thinking that things looked upsetting. A threatening crowd gathered to see him dismount from his horse at the posting yard. Many people yelled out loudly, “Down with the emigrant!”
He stopped in the act of swinging himself out of his saddle, and, resuming it as his safest place, said: He stopped as he was getting out of his saddle and decided that it was safer to stay on his horse.
“Emigrant, my friends! Do you not see me here, in France, of my own will?” “You call me an emigrant, my friends? Don’t you see that I’m here in France by my own choice?”
“You are a cursed emigrant,” cried a farrier, making at him in a furious manner through the press, hammer in hand; “and you are a cursed aristocrat!” “You are a cursed emigrant,” yelled a


someone who makes horseshoes

. The man rushed at him through the crowd waving his hammer in his hand. “And you are a cursed aristocrat!”
The postmaster interposed himself between this man and the rider’s bridle (at which he was evidently making), and soothingly said, “Let him be; let him be! He will be judged at Paris.” The postmaster got between the man and the rider’s bridle, which is what the man was apparently moving toward. He said soothingly, “Leave him alone! He will be judged in Paris.”