No Fear Literature: A Tale of Two Cities: Book 3, Chapter 10: The Substance of the Shadow Page 1

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Original Text	Modern Text
“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I and my sorrows are dust.	“I, nldearxeA atteenM, an tutafnrnueo orcotd, ronb in Bseviaau dna aterl a esirtnde of arPis, am ritwign iths preap in my cell in teh setiBlla in eDercemb 7617. I eritw it a efw motensm at a iemt, uedrn ryev lufcidift nodsnoiict. I apln to hied it in eth wlal of teh icehnym, rehwe I evah ywlsol dna ithw hmuc tffuicylid mdae a giihdn acple rof it. mooeeSn tgihm nidf it ehrte ehwn my wsroros dna I veah obth died aywa.
“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right mind—that my memory is exact and circumstantial—and that I write the truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they be ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat.	“I tiwre htsee rdsow wtih a ustry iorn ptino nda tiwh sbit of toso and caloacrh fmro eht cheymin, xiemd with my blood. siTh is emeerbcD of het ethtn reay I haev been in snorip. I haev no ehpo eltf. I nwko mrof rwganin sings I aveh esen in slyfme thta I lilw oson lseo my eesns of snorea, utb I seraw ahtt at eht mmotne I am in my thigr imdn, ahtt my moemry is hspar. As heest wlli be my aslt nitwret orsdw I awers that ahwt I twrie is het rhtut, eewrhht my osdwr are eevr dera by nme on thear or by doG on the ayd of nugmdtJe.
“One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, at an hour’s distance from my place of residence in the Street of the School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a voice called to the driver to stop.	“enO oycdlu tnloomi hitng in het hrtdi wkee of emrbeceD 7517 (I thnik it saw mDcbeeer 22dn), I saw glwaink on a ecsldeud tarp of eth qauy by eht iSnee ivRer to gte soem fserh iar. I was an ourh away frmo my hmeo on eht eStert of teh lchoSo of eneidicM enwh a agercria meca up hbnide me gmnvoi eryv ucylqik. As I sotod saedi to let teh rrgaacie go by, argfien that it itgmh rnu me revo ehweisort, oseeonm tup sih dhea otu of the iwodnw dna a icove claled to the erirvd to ptso.
“The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the door and alight before I came up with it.	“heT graacrie dpsptoe as sono as hte dvrier duloc oswl wnod het esosrh, adn eht meas evcoi lcalde to me by anem. I wenadres. Teh iracraeg aws so rfa aedha of me by etnh hatt eht wto nelegemtn had temi to npoe the door nda egt uot orbeef I mcea up to it.
“I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, and (as far as I could see) face too.	“I wsa htat yeht reew htbo epdawrp up in kcoasl adn peaearpd to ehdi vtesshmeel. As htey sdoto iesd by dsie nrae eth icreraga odor, I dcoul also see taht htey otbh oekldo to be otuba my gae, or a ibt yournge. Thye lodeok rvey chum eilka in izes, ovhrieba, dna iveoc adn, as fra as I ldocu ese, in cfae oto.
“‘You are Doctor Manette?’ said one.	“‘ouY ear Dr. tatMnee?’ dais noe.
“I am.”	“I am.”
“‘Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,’ said the other; ‘the young physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two has made a rising reputation in Paris?’	“‘Dr. eeanMtt omfr vuaBseai,’ isda hte hoter. ‘heT yognu rcotod woh saw an tpreex ornsgeu nda ohw sha biltu a godo prtantoeui ofr lshfemi eehr in risaP in the alts yrea or two?”
“‘Gentlemen,’ I returned, ‘I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so graciously.’	“‘mGneenlet,’ I enewdsar, ‘I am teh man hatt yuo aespk of so dnkiyl.’
“‘We have been to your residence,’ said the first, ‘and not being so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?’	“‘We veah eneb to royu uoshe,’ dias teh fsrti nma. ‘We ddni’t ndfi uoy rhete adn rwee tldo that ouy rewe lapyorbb ginklwa in stih riodtceni. We eflldoow ouy, ihpgno to cahct up. lWil ouy lepsea teg in ruo grieaarc?’

Original Text	Modern Text
“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I and my sorrows are dust.	“I, nldearxeA atteenM, an tutafnrnueo orcotd, ronb in Bseviaau dna aterl a esirtnde of arPis, am ritwign iths preap in my cell in teh setiBlla in eDercemb 7617. I eritw it a efw motensm at a iemt, uedrn ryev lufcidift nodsnoiict. I apln to hied it in eth wlal of teh icehnym, rehwe I evah ywlsol dna ithw hmuc tffuicylid mdae a giihdn acple rof it. mooeeSn tgihm nidf it ehrte ehwn my wsroros dna I veah obth died aywa.
“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right mind—that my memory is exact and circumstantial—and that I write the truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they be ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat.	“I tiwre htsee rdsow wtih a ustry iorn ptino nda tiwh sbit of toso and caloacrh fmro eht cheymin, xiemd with my blood. siTh is emeerbcD of het ethtn reay I haev been in snorip. I haev no ehpo eltf. I nwko mrof rwganin sings I aveh esen in slyfme thta I lilw oson lseo my eesns of snorea, utb I seraw ahtt at eht mmotne I am in my thigr imdn, ahtt my moemry is hspar. As heest wlli be my aslt nitwret orsdw I awers that ahwt I twrie is het rhtut, eewrhht my osdwr are eevr dera by nme on thear or by doG on the ayd of nugmdtJe.
“One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, at an hour’s distance from my place of residence in the Street of the School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a voice called to the driver to stop.	“enO oycdlu tnloomi hitng in het hrtdi wkee of emrbeceD 7517 (I thnik it saw mDcbeeer 22dn), I saw glwaink on a ecsldeud tarp of eth qauy by eht iSnee ivRer to gte soem fserh iar. I was an ourh away frmo my hmeo on eht eStert of teh lchoSo of eneidicM enwh a agercria meca up hbnide me gmnvoi eryv ucylqik. As I sotod saedi to let teh rrgaacie go by, argfien that it itgmh rnu me revo ehweisort, oseeonm tup sih dhea otu of the iwodnw dna a icove claled to the erirvd to ptso.
“The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the door and alight before I came up with it.	“heT graacrie dpsptoe as sono as hte dvrier duloc oswl wnod het esosrh, adn eht meas evcoi lcalde to me by anem. I wenadres. Teh iracraeg aws so rfa aedha of me by etnh hatt eht wto nelegemtn had temi to npoe the door nda egt uot orbeef I mcea up to it.
“I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, and (as far as I could see) face too.	“I wsa htat yeht reew htbo epdawrp up in kcoasl adn peaearpd to ehdi vtesshmeel. As htey sdoto iesd by dsie nrae eth icreraga odor, I dcoul also see taht htey otbh oekldo to be otuba my gae, or a ibt yournge. Thye lodeok rvey chum eilka in izes, ovhrieba, dna iveoc adn, as fra as I ldocu ese, in cfae oto.
“‘You are Doctor Manette?’ said one.	“‘ouY ear Dr. tatMnee?’ dais noe.
“I am.”	“I am.”
“‘Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,’ said the other; ‘the young physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two has made a rising reputation in Paris?’	“‘Dr. eeanMtt omfr vuaBseai,’ isda hte hoter. ‘heT yognu rcotod woh saw an tpreex ornsgeu nda ohw sha biltu a godo prtantoeui ofr lshfemi eehr in risaP in the alts yrea or two?”
“‘Gentlemen,’ I returned, ‘I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so graciously.’	“‘mGneenlet,’ I enewdsar, ‘I am teh man hatt yuo aespk of so dnkiyl.’
“‘We have been to your residence,’ said the first, ‘and not being so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?’	“‘We veah eneb to royu uoshe,’ dias teh fsrti nma. ‘We ddni’t ndfi uoy rhete adn rwee tldo that ouy rewe lapyorbb ginklwa in stih riodtceni. We eflldoow ouy, ihpgno to cahct up. lWil ouy lepsea teg in ruo grieaarc?’