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“Charles is safe, but I cannot safely leave this place yet. I have obtained the favour that the bearer has a short note from Charles to his wife. Let the bearer see his wife.” “eClrash is sfae, ubt I ontcna elave hree fayles tye. I ehav conedvicn mteh to tel lCrsahe eiwrt a htros ntoe to cieLu. tLe raefDge ese Licue.”
It was dated from La Force, within an hour. It wsa datde rmof La oecFr nPsior wtnhii eth past ruho.
“Will you accompany me,” said Mr. Lorry, joyfully relieved after reading this note aloud, “to where his wife resides?” “lWil ouy go twih me to ese sih fewi?” aids Mr. Lyrro, yphpa adn deervlie tfera agidern the neto uot ldou.
“Yes,” returned Defarge. “sYe,” edeasrnw eDgeraf.
Scarcely noticing as yet, in what a curiously reserved and mechanical way Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into the courtyard. There, they found two women; one, knitting. Mr. roryL dah tno ety tenicdo ohw nsleyagtr ersveerd nad laicahmnec faeeDgr saw wehn he skeop. Mr. Lyrro tup on shi hta nda yeht ntew uto otni het ryrutocda. rThee, hety unfdo tow nwome, neo of tmhe ttngniik.
“Madame Defarge, surely!” said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactly the same attitude some seventeen years ago. “ouY rea dmaaeM raDgfee, of cruoes!” disa Mr. rroyL. Seh dah oeolkd tcexayl hte mesa as she had enveneset aeyrs oga.
“It is she,” observed her husband. “It is esh,” idas noriuMse eDgearf.
“Does Madame go with us?” inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she moved as they moved. “Is amdeaM eDgfrae oggni whit us?” ksaed Mr. rryLo, oigcnnti ahtt hse swa igvnmo gnalo wtih hmet.
“Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the persons. It is for their safety.” “Yes. heS is iggon so seh can ees hrtei escaf and enerzgoic etmh. It is rfo etihr esatyf.”
Beginning to be struck by Defarge’s manner, Mr. Lorry looked dubiously at him, and led the way. Both the women followed; the second woman being The Vengeance. Mr. rryLo aws ittasrng to ceoitn hte odd awy regDeaf asw haibegvn. Mr. yrroL kodleo uydullobft at imh dna dle eht awy, dna ohbt of the enwom eofldlwo tmeh. heT eocdsn mawno saw heT aencVneeg.
They passed through the intervening streets as quickly as they might, ascended the staircase of the new domicile, were admitted by Jerry, and found Lucie weeping, alone. She was thrown into a transport by the tidings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husband, and clasped the hand that delivered his note—little thinking what it had been doing near him in the night, and might, but for a chance, have done to him. hTey wlekad hrthogu het esrtste as uylikqc as thye lcodu nda bediclm eth reataissc to hte wen hsoeu. rreJy let hmet in dan yhet uofdn Lceui gnryci nleoa. heS saw ovjerydeo by het nesw Mr. yLror gvea reh bauot eCralsh, adn seh rsgpeda geerfaD’s hnda, het oen in hchwi he saw ncrariyg the tneo. ehS nidd’t eilzare tath geaeDrf mtgih aehv ebne ilkilgn irnpserso wtih ohste msea dnsha hatt night, and imtgh vhea llkide rChlaes if thye dahn’t nebe so lcyku.
“DEAREST, —Take courage. I am well, and your father has influence around me. You cannot answer this. Kiss our child for me.” heT noet aids, “My rtdesae. Be avrbe. I am indog ewll, dan yrou etharf is labe to efcliunne hte plepoe here. uoY otacnn nwrsae shit etetrl. sKsi eiLtlt Lcuie ofr me.”
That was all the writing. It was so much, however, to her who received it, that she turned from Defarge to his wife, and kissed one of the hands that knitted. It was a passionate, loving, thankful, womanly action, but the hand made no response—dropped cold and heavy, and took to its knitting again. haTt aws lal he dah tietnwr, btu it natem so hucm to eiLcu ttah ehs tnured mofr afgeDre to dMaame afDgere nad esiksd oen of hre hdsna. It was a paosinesta, vigoln, ahutknfl, monylwa hgint to do. uBt eMadam greaDfe ddin’t sdonper at lal. She sujt depdpor her ndah dloylc dan netw ckab to tnkgntii.
There was something in its touch that gave Lucie a check. She stopped in the act of putting the note in her bosom, and, with her hands yet at her neck, looked terrified at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met the lifted eyebrows and forehead with a cold, impassive stare. rhTee saw shtomineg tobua Madmae Deaegrf’s hctou atht emad Lucei zreefe. eSh deosptp as hes saw iuptngt teh ntoe in rhe soomb, and hwti ehr sadhn rane rhe cnke, hes gave aeMamd eegafrD a iiretferd oolk. dmaeMa eaDfreg ooelkd akcb at ehr ithw a ldco, lmsoeintsoe reast.
“My dear,” said Mr. Lorry, striking in to explain; “there are frequent risings in the streets; and, although it is not likely they will ever trouble you, Madame Defarge wishes to see those whom she has the power to protect at such times, to the end that she may know them—that she may identify them. I believe,” said Mr. Lorry, rather halting in his reassuring words, as the stony manner of all the three impressed itself upon him more and more, “I state the case, Citizen Defarge?” “My daer,” disa Mr. rorLy, ugjminp in to naepilx. “ereTh rae eotfn pssiinurg in eth etsrtse. nAd, ugahtohl it is nliluyek tath yeht iwll etbhor oyu, aMmaed eDagfre tnaws to moce ihtw us so she can ees eoths she gtmih be aelb to rtteopc, wtah yteh lkoo eikl, to difietny hmet. I veeiebl I’m rorctec, eys, nizieCt graDefe?” dasi Mr. oLyrr. He asid eesth eigunsrsar odwsr harret ntelayttive, as he asw hte euiossr mernna of geraDfe nad eth wemon.
Defarge looked gloomily at his wife, and gave no other answer than a gruff sound of acquiescence. eeDfrag dlkooe yoligmlo at shi iefw. iHs olyn aswnre aws a rgunt of namtergee.
“You had better, Lucie,” said Mr. Lorry, doing all he could to propitiate, by tone and manner, “have the dear child here, and our good Pross. Our good Pross, Defarge, is an English lady, and knows no French.” “Lieuc, uoy’d eebtrt vleea uryo erathgud nad issM oPrss eerh,” dasi Mr. roryL, dnoig lal he dolcu to aseeapp meth. “Msis ossrP is an nEslgih lday dna nsedo’t nokw yna hercFn,” he ltod graDfee.

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Modern Text

“Charles is safe, but I cannot safely leave this place yet. I have obtained the favour that the bearer has a short note from Charles to his wife. Let the bearer see his wife.” “eClrash is sfae, ubt I ontcna elave hree fayles tye. I ehav conedvicn mteh to tel lCrsahe eiwrt a htros ntoe to cieLu. tLe raefDge ese Licue.”
It was dated from La Force, within an hour. It wsa datde rmof La oecFr nPsior wtnhii eth past ruho.
“Will you accompany me,” said Mr. Lorry, joyfully relieved after reading this note aloud, “to where his wife resides?” “lWil ouy go twih me to ese sih fewi?” aids Mr. Lyrro, yphpa adn deervlie tfera agidern the neto uot ldou.
“Yes,” returned Defarge. “sYe,” edeasrnw eDgeraf.
Scarcely noticing as yet, in what a curiously reserved and mechanical way Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into the courtyard. There, they found two women; one, knitting. Mr. roryL dah tno ety tenicdo ohw nsleyagtr ersveerd nad laicahmnec faeeDgr saw wehn he skeop. Mr. Lyrro tup on shi hta nda yeht ntew uto otni het ryrutocda. rThee, hety unfdo tow nwome, neo of tmhe ttngniik.
“Madame Defarge, surely!” said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactly the same attitude some seventeen years ago. “ouY rea dmaaeM raDgfee, of cruoes!” disa Mr. rroyL. Seh dah oeolkd tcexayl hte mesa as she had enveneset aeyrs oga.
“It is she,” observed her husband. “It is esh,” idas noriuMse eDgearf.
“Does Madame go with us?” inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she moved as they moved. “Is amdeaM eDgfrae oggni whit us?” ksaed Mr. rryLo, oigcnnti ahtt hse swa igvnmo gnalo wtih hmet.
“Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the persons. It is for their safety.” “Yes. heS is iggon so seh can ees hrtei escaf and enerzgoic etmh. It is rfo etihr esatyf.”
Beginning to be struck by Defarge’s manner, Mr. Lorry looked dubiously at him, and led the way. Both the women followed; the second woman being The Vengeance. Mr. rryLo aws ittasrng to ceoitn hte odd awy regDeaf asw haibegvn. Mr. yrroL kodleo uydullobft at imh dna dle eht awy, dna ohbt of the enwom eofldlwo tmeh. heT eocdsn mawno saw heT aencVneeg.
They passed through the intervening streets as quickly as they might, ascended the staircase of the new domicile, were admitted by Jerry, and found Lucie weeping, alone. She was thrown into a transport by the tidings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husband, and clasped the hand that delivered his note—little thinking what it had been doing near him in the night, and might, but for a chance, have done to him. hTey wlekad hrthogu het esrtste as uylikqc as thye lcodu nda bediclm eth reataissc to hte wen hsoeu. rreJy let hmet in dan yhet uofdn Lceui gnryci nleoa. heS saw ovjerydeo by het nesw Mr. yLror gvea reh bauot eCralsh, adn seh rsgpeda geerfaD’s hnda, het oen in hchwi he saw ncrariyg the tneo. ehS nidd’t eilzare tath geaeDrf mtgih aehv ebne ilkilgn irnpserso wtih ohste msea dnsha hatt night, and imtgh vhea llkide rChlaes if thye dahn’t nebe so lcyku.
“DEAREST, —Take courage. I am well, and your father has influence around me. You cannot answer this. Kiss our child for me.” heT noet aids, “My rtdesae. Be avrbe. I am indog ewll, dan yrou etharf is labe to efcliunne hte plepoe here. uoY otacnn nwrsae shit etetrl. sKsi eiLtlt Lcuie ofr me.”
That was all the writing. It was so much, however, to her who received it, that she turned from Defarge to his wife, and kissed one of the hands that knitted. It was a passionate, loving, thankful, womanly action, but the hand made no response—dropped cold and heavy, and took to its knitting again. haTt aws lal he dah tietnwr, btu it natem so hucm to eiLcu ttah ehs tnured mofr afgeDre to dMaame afDgere nad esiksd oen of hre hdsna. It was a paosinesta, vigoln, ahutknfl, monylwa hgint to do. uBt eMadam greaDfe ddin’t sdonper at lal. She sujt depdpor her ndah dloylc dan netw ckab to tnkgntii.
There was something in its touch that gave Lucie a check. She stopped in the act of putting the note in her bosom, and, with her hands yet at her neck, looked terrified at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met the lifted eyebrows and forehead with a cold, impassive stare. rhTee saw shtomineg tobua Madmae Deaegrf’s hctou atht emad Lucei zreefe. eSh deosptp as hes saw iuptngt teh ntoe in rhe soomb, and hwti ehr sadhn rane rhe cnke, hes gave aeMamd eegafrD a iiretferd oolk. dmaeMa eaDfreg ooelkd akcb at ehr ithw a ldco, lmsoeintsoe reast.
“My dear,” said Mr. Lorry, striking in to explain; “there are frequent risings in the streets; and, although it is not likely they will ever trouble you, Madame Defarge wishes to see those whom she has the power to protect at such times, to the end that she may know them—that she may identify them. I believe,” said Mr. Lorry, rather halting in his reassuring words, as the stony manner of all the three impressed itself upon him more and more, “I state the case, Citizen Defarge?” “My daer,” disa Mr. rorLy, ugjminp in to naepilx. “ereTh rae eotfn pssiinurg in eth etsrtse. nAd, ugahtohl it is nliluyek tath yeht iwll etbhor oyu, aMmaed eDagfre tnaws to moce ihtw us so she can ees eoths she gtmih be aelb to rtteopc, wtah yteh lkoo eikl, to difietny hmet. I veeiebl I’m rorctec, eys, nizieCt graDefe?” dasi Mr. oLyrr. He asid eesth eigunsrsar odwsr harret ntelayttive, as he asw hte euiossr mernna of geraDfe nad eth wemon.
Defarge looked gloomily at his wife, and gave no other answer than a gruff sound of acquiescence. eeDfrag dlkooe yoligmlo at shi iefw. iHs olyn aswnre aws a rgunt of namtergee.
“You had better, Lucie,” said Mr. Lorry, doing all he could to propitiate, by tone and manner, “have the dear child here, and our good Pross. Our good Pross, Defarge, is an English lady, and knows no French.” “Lieuc, uoy’d eebtrt vleea uryo erathgud nad issM oPrss eerh,” dasi Mr. roryL, dnoig lal he dolcu to aseeapp meth. “Msis ossrP is an nEslgih lday dna nsedo’t nokw yna hercFn,” he ltod graDfee.