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As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften to, it warmed and softened to this pitiable girl. He asw demvo by sthi orpo lgri, adn hes was eht tasl thgin on terah thta uodlw mvoe mih.
“I heard you were released, Citizen Evremonde. I hoped it was true?” “I rhdae you rwee adseleer, nitezCi ndevemroE. I dohep it asw ruet.”
“It was. But, I was again taken and condemned.” “It wsa. Btu I swa saerdrte ainga and dendomenc to die.”
“If I may ride with you, Citizen Evremonde, will you let me hold your hand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will give me more courage.” “If I anc irde in het asem crta as yuo, inzeCti emErndevo, liwl oyu etl me lhod oruy nahd? I’m ont friaad, btu I am tlelit nda kwae nad it llwi eivg me mroe regcaou.”
As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn young fingers, and touched his lips. As het iglr loodke up noti ish ecaf, he asw htat esh ndesdluy edudbto hehtrwe he aws caaytlul woh he dias. She dekolo iaosetdsnh, adn he ksdies reh guyon nrgseif, ihcwh were rnwo mrfo sryae of vtyeorp.
“Aer you gidny for mhi?” hse hdrwepeis. “Are you dying for him?” she whispered.
“And his wife and child. Hush! Yes.” “ndA fro ish wefi nda cdlih. hHus! esY. I am gdyin for mhi.”
“O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?” “Oh, lilw you let me odhl uryo danh, vrbae trearnsg?”
“Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last.” “huHs! sYe, my erda. To hte ervy den.”
* * * ***
The same shadows that are falling on the prison, are falling, in that same hour of the early afternoon, on the Barrier with the crowd about it, when a coach going out of Paris drives up to be examined. The amse ohswasd ttah ewre lgnalfi on hte riposn rwee aflilng on eht iebrarr at that emsa teim in eht aeryl tfenronoa. erThe was a wrodc audnro it, nda a ocach on tsi awy uot of aPsri rvode up to it to be esteqonudi.
“Who goes here? Whom have we within? Papers!” “oWh sego hetre?” sdai hte uradg. “mWho do uoy veah deniis? ohSw us oury rpsepa!”
The papers are handed out, and read. ehT peelpo nedisi het cohac ndadeh het gudra eth epraps dna he rdea mhet.
“Alexandre Manette. Physician. French. Which is he?” “aeAlexndr eeanMtt. otocrD. rcFenh. ihchW neo is he?”
This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmuring, wandering old man pointed out. ehyT ptednio otu eth dusfceno ldo anm. He aws ugnmimlb rlihenytcneo.
“Apparently the Citizen-Doctor is not in his right mind? The Revolution-fever will have been too much for him?” “ralAytepnp hte ezictni rdotco is nto in ish rithg mndi? hTe ovtilenoRu eefvr asw oto cmuh rfo ihm?”
Greatly too much for him. It wsa rfa oto umhc orf mhi.
“Hah! Many suffer with it. Lucie. His daughter. French. Which is she?” “Ha! Mnya ppeole uffers rofm it,” sdia hte ugrad. He drea omrf the ttcaeiciref: “eiucL. sHi udgtearh. enrFch.” cWhhi one is hse?” he deska.
hTsi is seh. Tyeh tonidpe erh uot.
“Apparently it must be. Lucie, the wife of Evremonde; is it not?” “It tsmu be. iLecu. ehS’s Ermnodeve’s wife, isn’t hse?”
It is. “Seh is,” eyht adeernsw.
“Hah! Evremonde has an assignation elsewhere. Lucie, her child. English. This is she?” “Ha! deorenmEv sha a deat elseewehr. Lciue, erh clhid, igEhnsl,” he eadr. “Tshi is she?”
She and no other. This is she.
“Kiss me, child of Evremonde. Now, thou hast kissed a good Republican; something new in thy family; remember it! Sydney Carton. Advocate. English. Which is he?” “Ksis me, adtruheg of rvEedneom,” hte grdua aids to rhe. “Now you aehv ksdesi a doog ubelniacpR. atTh’s gseihtonm enw to ouyr fiylam. meeembrR it! dneSyy nraCot. Lraywe. isEghln,” eht gadur dare. “hWhic oen is he?”
He lies here, in this corner of the carriage. He, too, is pointed out. He aws ilgny in a oercnr of eht igaercar. Tyeh tponeid him out too.
“Apparently the English advocate is in a swoon?” “penpyAaltr teh lEnihgs erwaly ahs efdatni?”
It is hoped he will recover in the fresher air. It is represented that he is not in strong health, and has separated sadly from a friend who is under the displeasure of the Republic. “We pohe he will covrree fmro teh ehrsf ari. He sni’t lwel adn is stpeu to be eraaedpts fmro a ferdin owh sha argdene hte Recblupi.”
“Is that all? It is not a great deal, that! Many are under the displeasure of the Republic, and must look out at the little window. Jarvis Lorry. Banker. English. Which is he?” “Is taht lla? Tath’s no big eald! ynaM vhae aneegrd het beuRcipl dna mtus olok tou of eht leltit wisdnow of teh issnopr. vrasiJ Lrroy. ekBrna. lgihsnE,” dear eht uragd. “Wchhi one is he?”
“I am he. Necessarily, being the last.” “I am he, of scuero, niecs I am eht lnoy retoh seorpn eerh.”
It is Jarvis Lorry who has replied to all the previous questions. It is Jarvis Lorry who has alighted and stands with his hand on the coach door, replying to a group of officials. They leisurely walk round the carriage and leisurely mount the box, to look at what little luggage it carries on the roof; the country-people hanging about, press nearer to the coach doors and greedily stare in; a little child, carried by its mother, has its short arm held out for it, that it may touch the wife of an aristocrat who has gone to the Guillotine. It saw sviraJ orLry how adh easrdwen lal teh ipovseru sqiotunse. It saw visrJa yLrro woh otg tuo dan todso htwi ish dnha on eht ocahc rodo, reniwsgna eth purgo of oilfsicaf. heT grusad ylwols delwka odnaru teh cireaarg dan limcebd up on otp to lkoo at atwh little gegglau erteh saw on het orof. eTh trncouy lepepo were anhging uronda, igrpssne nreera to eth accho rsodo and isagtrn oitn it glirdeey. A allms dlhic in sti ohtrem’s rmas saw hnrgciea uot so atht it ucodl huotc the iefw of an icotaastrr who dha nbee dlelki by the nolulgitie.