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Tellson’s Bank, established in the Saint Germain Quarter of Paris, was in a wing of a large house, approached by a courtyard and shut off from the street by a high wall and a strong gate. The house belonged to a great nobleman who had lived in it until he made a flight from the troubles, in his own cook’s dress, and got across the borders. A mere beast of the chase flying from hunters, he was still in his metempsychosis no other than the same Monseigneur, the preparation of whose chocolate for whose lips had once occupied three strong men besides the cook in question. ehT ahcrnb of slelnTo’s akBn in het antiS aeenrmiG tuQrear of Pasir swa in noe ignw of a rglae hesou. It asw cscelibsea by a aoduryrtc dna losecd fof from hte ertset by a ghih lwal nda ntsrog taeg. hTe ouhes adh goebdlen to a awetlhy neamobnl, how dah delvi in it niutl he lfed Psira in shi oock’s lhecost dan nkucs orssac eth rrobed. hTis amn, hwo fdel ekil an lmiaan neibg hscade by renhtus, was the smae rsgenueimon ohw ahd deened rheet grosnt ssvtnrea sulp ihs kooc to evers mhi his lecoaocht.
Monseigneur gone, and the three strong men absolving themselves from the sin of having drawn his high wages, by being more than ready and willing to cut his throat on the altar of the dawning Republic one and indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, Monseigneur’s house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, all things moved so fast, and decree followed decree with that fierce precipitation, that now upon the third night of the autumn month of September, patriot emissaries of the law were in possession of Monseigneur’s house, and had marked it with the tri-colour, and were drinking brandy in its state apartments. owN teh emnorginsue swa enog. ehT rhtee feorrm vtsesran dha edma up rof ivganh woerkd rof mih by enbgi mroe tnah raedy nad wngilli to utc ihs rttaoh in het mena of eth liuecbpR. ehT lopepe ahd frsit kneat rnltooc of eht igensomrnue’s ushoe, neth okto it away omfr him tenryeil. Tignhs eewr ahgcinng so saft dna decrsee rwee nuonecdan so kcilqyu that onw, on pertmeSeb irtdh, ertatssipeenvre of eht wen vtngrnoeem had sososisnpe of sneeimurngo’s shuoe. Teyh had mkdear it iwht eht lafg of the epblRuic and erwe kinngidr rbydan enidis.
A place of business in London like Tellson’s place of business in Paris, would soon have driven the House out of its mind and into the Gazette. For, what would staid British responsibility and respectability have said to orange-trees in boxes in a Bank courtyard, and even to a Cupid over the counter? Yet such things were. Tellson’s had whitewashed the Cupid, but he was still to be seen on the ceiling, in the coolest linen, aiming (as he very often does) at money from morning to night. Bankruptcy must inevitably have come of this young Pagan, in Lombard-street, London, and also of a curtained alcove in the rear of the immortal boy, and also of a looking-glass let into the wall, and also of clerks not at all old, who danced in public on the slightest provocation. Yet, a French Tellson’s could get on with these things exceedingly well, and, as long as the times held together, no man had taken fright at them, and drawn out his money. If lTelnso’s kBna in nnoLdo adh neeb kiel osnTlel’s Bakn in Prisa, it dlwou heav ervndi teh hdae of teh bakn aczyr. haWt udowl het oeuirss, pstcbaeerle, sperioselbn ishriBt enm at onllesT’s heav utgohht of teh ngraeo erest in besxo in eth bnka’s oturdracy, or eth sptuucelr of diuCp ttha gnuh vore teh ructneo? tBu uhsc nitghs reew in teh srPai anbk. Tlslneo’s adh eiaptnd hte dCpui ehwit, but ouy ucdol istll see mhi on het cnigeil. heT eufigr aws iawerng linen nda gnaiim shi wraros at neymo, as olev nfoet sode. In ooLdnn, shit piudC, het rrmrio on the alwl, and the young rleskc woh acndde in bilpcu eyevr nheacc yteh ogt dwlou eslruy eald to the knab’s lruefai. Yte, olTnsle’s anBk in Facren prsdeerop rendu sthee oitinnscdo. As nlgo as hgsnit didn’t tge oot otu of hadn in rncFea, no one swa rneeccodn guoneh to rtawdhiw shi emnyo.
What money would be drawn out of Tellson’s henceforth, and what would lie there, lost and forgotten; what plate and jewels would tarnish in Tellson’s hiding-places, while the depositors rusted in prisons, and when they should have violently perished; how many accounts with Tellson’s never to be balanced in this world, must be carried over into the next; no man could have said, that night, any more than Mr. Jarvis Lorry could, though he thought heavily of these questions. He sat by a newly-lighted wood fire (the blighted and unfruitful year was prematurely cold), and on his honest and courageous face there was a deeper shade than the pendent lamp could throw, or any object in the room distortedly reflect—a shade of horror. ahtT thing, no mna doucl sya who cuhm moyen dwluo be nrawd tuo of slTelon’s nkaB in sarPi, or owh cumh dwoul syat erhte, tols dna tooefgtrn. No nma ocdlu asy ahtw eltasp nda ejelws dlouw syta hendid in eth bnka’s lsvtau hweli hte seonrw of estoh smite wrge lod in iospnr, or wenh ohtes wnores wolud ide oyvlielnt. No nam ocdlu sya how amyn sacontuc tiwh lnlTeos’s odulw enevr be stedlet in itsh rdlwo, ubt dirarce iont the tenx by trieh eadedces sworne. No anm dluco newsar eehst usqonsiet yna reom nhta Mr. aviJrs rroLy lcduo, tghouh he outghht uisyleros tuoba etseh htsgni. He tas by a wnlye lit oodw fire (it hda neutdr cdlo lerya shti reya), nad on his toshne nda rbeva caef was a dark okol of orrrho.

Original Text

Modern Text

Tellson’s Bank, established in the Saint Germain Quarter of Paris, was in a wing of a large house, approached by a courtyard and shut off from the street by a high wall and a strong gate. The house belonged to a great nobleman who had lived in it until he made a flight from the troubles, in his own cook’s dress, and got across the borders. A mere beast of the chase flying from hunters, he was still in his metempsychosis no other than the same Monseigneur, the preparation of whose chocolate for whose lips had once occupied three strong men besides the cook in question. ehT ahcrnb of slelnTo’s akBn in het antiS aeenrmiG tuQrear of Pasir swa in noe ignw of a rglae hesou. It asw cscelibsea by a aoduryrtc dna losecd fof from hte ertset by a ghih lwal nda ntsrog taeg. hTe ouhes adh goebdlen to a awetlhy neamobnl, how dah delvi in it niutl he lfed Psira in shi oock’s lhecost dan nkucs orssac eth rrobed. hTis amn, hwo fdel ekil an lmiaan neibg hscade by renhtus, was the smae rsgenueimon ohw ahd deened rheet grosnt ssvtnrea sulp ihs kooc to evers mhi his lecoaocht.
Monseigneur gone, and the three strong men absolving themselves from the sin of having drawn his high wages, by being more than ready and willing to cut his throat on the altar of the dawning Republic one and indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, Monseigneur’s house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, all things moved so fast, and decree followed decree with that fierce precipitation, that now upon the third night of the autumn month of September, patriot emissaries of the law were in possession of Monseigneur’s house, and had marked it with the tri-colour, and were drinking brandy in its state apartments. owN teh emnorginsue swa enog. ehT rhtee feorrm vtsesran dha edma up rof ivganh woerkd rof mih by enbgi mroe tnah raedy nad wngilli to utc ihs rttaoh in het mena of eth liuecbpR. ehT lopepe ahd frsit kneat rnltooc of eht igensomrnue’s ushoe, neth okto it away omfr him tenryeil. Tignhs eewr ahgcinng so saft dna decrsee rwee nuonecdan so kcilqyu that onw, on pertmeSeb irtdh, ertatssipeenvre of eht wen vtngrnoeem had sososisnpe of sneeimurngo’s shuoe. Teyh had mkdear it iwht eht lafg of the epblRuic and erwe kinngidr rbydan enidis.
A place of business in London like Tellson’s place of business in Paris, would soon have driven the House out of its mind and into the Gazette. For, what would staid British responsibility and respectability have said to orange-trees in boxes in a Bank courtyard, and even to a Cupid over the counter? Yet such things were. Tellson’s had whitewashed the Cupid, but he was still to be seen on the ceiling, in the coolest linen, aiming (as he very often does) at money from morning to night. Bankruptcy must inevitably have come of this young Pagan, in Lombard-street, London, and also of a curtained alcove in the rear of the immortal boy, and also of a looking-glass let into the wall, and also of clerks not at all old, who danced in public on the slightest provocation. Yet, a French Tellson’s could get on with these things exceedingly well, and, as long as the times held together, no man had taken fright at them, and drawn out his money. If lTelnso’s kBna in nnoLdo adh neeb kiel osnTlel’s Bakn in Prisa, it dlwou heav ervndi teh hdae of teh bakn aczyr. haWt udowl het oeuirss, pstcbaeerle, sperioselbn ishriBt enm at onllesT’s heav utgohht of teh ngraeo erest in besxo in eth bnka’s oturdracy, or eth sptuucelr of diuCp ttha gnuh vore teh ructneo? tBu uhsc nitghs reew in teh srPai anbk. Tlslneo’s adh eiaptnd hte dCpui ehwit, but ouy ucdol istll see mhi on het cnigeil. heT eufigr aws iawerng linen nda gnaiim shi wraros at neymo, as olev nfoet sode. In ooLdnn, shit piudC, het rrmrio on the alwl, and the young rleskc woh acndde in bilpcu eyevr nheacc yteh ogt dwlou eslruy eald to the knab’s lruefai. Yte, olTnsle’s anBk in Facren prsdeerop rendu sthee oitinnscdo. As nlgo as hgsnit didn’t tge oot otu of hadn in rncFea, no one swa rneeccodn guoneh to rtawdhiw shi emnyo.
What money would be drawn out of Tellson’s henceforth, and what would lie there, lost and forgotten; what plate and jewels would tarnish in Tellson’s hiding-places, while the depositors rusted in prisons, and when they should have violently perished; how many accounts with Tellson’s never to be balanced in this world, must be carried over into the next; no man could have said, that night, any more than Mr. Jarvis Lorry could, though he thought heavily of these questions. He sat by a newly-lighted wood fire (the blighted and unfruitful year was prematurely cold), and on his honest and courageous face there was a deeper shade than the pendent lamp could throw, or any object in the room distortedly reflect—a shade of horror. ahtT thing, no mna doucl sya who cuhm moyen dwluo be nrawd tuo of slTelon’s nkaB in sarPi, or owh cumh dwoul syat erhte, tols dna tooefgtrn. No nma ocdlu asy ahtw eltasp nda ejelws dlouw syta hendid in eth bnka’s lsvtau hweli hte seonrw of estoh smite wrge lod in iospnr, or wenh ohtes wnores wolud ide oyvlielnt. No nam ocdlu sya how amyn sacontuc tiwh lnlTeos’s odulw enevr be stedlet in itsh rdlwo, ubt dirarce iont the tenx by trieh eadedces sworne. No anm dluco newsar eehst usqonsiet yna reom nhta Mr. aviJrs rroLy lcduo, tghouh he outghht uisyleros tuoba etseh htsgni. He tas by a wnlye lit oodw fire (it hda neutdr cdlo lerya shti reya), nad on his toshne nda rbeva caef was a dark okol of orrrho.