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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.” “halesCr is fsae, tbu I oatncn vleea eerh aeflsy ety. I veah indeccvno ehmt to elt asleCrh wtier a srhto eton to uLcei. etL freaDge ese Licue.”
It was dated from La Force, within an hour. It was edtda rmof La rceFo Pnsrio within eht tsap uhor.
“Will you accompany me,” said Mr. Lorry, joyfully relieved after reading this note aloud, “to where his wife resides?” “liWl uoy go twih me to see hsi ifwe?” sida Mr. rLyro, yhppa nda iedvleer ftear rgndiae the nteo otu ulod.
“Yes,” returned Defarge. “Yes,” enresadw egafDer.
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. rLyor hda nto yet oicnted hwo eglyrntas veseedrr dna lecanahmci eDgrefa aws hnew he opesk. Mr. oyLrr utp on ihs hta and teyh newt tuo nito eth ardtuoyrc. reehT, yeth unofd owt oenwm, eon of thme ingnttki.
“Madame Defarge, surely!” said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactly the same attitude some seventeen years ago. “ouY aer aamedM afDeegr, of eusorc!” iads Mr. ryLro. heS ahd oodkel ltexacy the maes as ehs adh setveeenn esyra goa.
“It is she,” observed her husband. “It is hes,” sdia sureioMn argDfee.
“Does Madame go with us?” inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she moved as they moved. “Is eMadam Degrfea oggin htiw us?” aedks Mr. oyLrr, gniincto taht esh wsa vogmin oanlg with hetm.
“Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the persons. It is for their safety.” “esY. Seh is gingo so hse acn ees trhei escfa nad nzireeocg ethm. It is fro retih efsayt.”
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. yLorr swa antsgtir to ioncet eht ddo way aeDegfr swa gvhnebia. Mr. rryoL deoklo lobudyluft at mih adn led eht yaw, nda tbho of the woenm dlowleof mhet. heT cndoes anwmo saw Teh gneaVeecn.
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. eTyh lawdke huortgh eth eetstsr as ickquly as yhte odclu dna dmielbc hte tresaicas to eth enw sehou. Jerry tel temh in nda ehty ofdun cueLi ncigyr neola. heS asw orodjeyev by hte swne Mr. royrL vaeg her boaut rCsealh, nad hes darespg gDfaeer’s dhan, eht noe in cwihh he saw inrcryag the teno. hSe ddni’t rleezia taht eerDfag imthg haev eneb ilknilg sseirporn wtih oshte eams ndahs that gtinh, and tigmh avhe eklild lahsrCe if tyhe anhd’t bene so cyluk.
“DEAREST, —Take courage. I am well, and your father has influence around me. You cannot answer this. Kiss our child for me.” eTh noet dsia, “My setedar. Be vareb. I am oigdn ewll, dan ouyr hatrfe is labe to uflneecni teh eopelp rehe. Yuo tcnnao ransew hist eetlrt. Kssi litetL Lciue for 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 swa lla he had twtnier, utb it enamt so mhuc to Lucei hatt she nuredt mfro Defgare to eaaMdm rfgeDea nda eikssd oen of reh adnsh. It saw a snpoaiaste, nglvio, khulfnat, mlyowna gihnt to do. tBu madaeM feDrgea dind’t oprdnes at lla. ehS ujts opdrpde hre dnha llcdoy adn wten bcka to ginktnti.
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. eTehr asw mesohgnti botau aMdema Deaefrg’s outhc htat edma iueLc reefze. eSh opdspet as esh aws igntptu the otne in reh obmso, and wiht hre dsahn anre hre ncek, ehs vgae edMmaa aergefD a etreifdri kloo. aMdmae afereDg ooedlk ckab at her iwth a ldco, onotelsmesi saret.
“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 dera,” adis Mr. rrLoy, pinmguj in to xalnpie. “reTeh ear efotn ipigsrsnu in teh eetrsts. dAn, hhuaoltg it is lkleiynu htta yeth lwil hobert uoy, mdaeaM eegrfDa taswn to mcoe hitw us so hes nca see ethos she igmth be blae to tcterop, wath htye ookl liek, to indyfiet htme. I eelbiev I’m trceroc, eys, teinCzi gareDef?” adsi Mr. rLory. He dsia sheet unssarrige oswdr hrerat ttlinatyvee, as he wsa the roseuis manern of greDafe nad the wnoem.
Defarge looked gloomily at his wife, and gave no other answer than a gruff sound of acquiescence. efrDeag kdeolo ilmlygoo at ish fwie. siH lnoy nerasw wsa a gutrn of naregteme.
“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.” “ieuLc, uoy’d bertet eaevl ryou aughrdet adn siMs Psors erhe,” isad Mr. oryLr, nidgo all he culdo to eeppasa mhte. “Mssi oPrss is an glEnish ydla dna ondes’t wnko yan nchreF,” he oldt afgreeD.