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the knitting done
in that same 1 of time when the fifty-two awaited their fate, madame defarge held darkly 2 council with the 3 and jacques three of the revolutionary jury. not in the wine-shop did madame defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, erst a mender of roads. the sawyer himself did not participate in the conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited.
“but our defarge,” said jacques three, “is 4 a good republican? eh?”
“there is no better,” the voluble vengeance protested in her 5 notes, “in france.”
“peace, little vengeance,” said madame defarge, laying her hand with a slight frown on her lieutenant’s lips, “hear me speak. my husband, fellow-citizen, is a good republican and a bold man; he has deserved well of the republic, and possesses its confidence. but my husband has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this doctor.”
“it is a great pity,” 7 jacques three, 8 shaking his head, with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; “it is not quite like a good citizen; it is a thing to regret.”
“see you,” said madame, “i care nothing for this doctor, i. he may wear his head or lose it, for any interest i have in him; it is all one to me. but, the evremonde people are to be 9, and the wife and child must follow the husband and father.”
“she has a fine head for it,” croaked jacques three. “i have seen blue eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when samson held them up.” ogre that he was, he 10 like an 11.
madame defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little.
“the child also,” observed jacques three, with a 12 13 of his words, “has golden hair and blue eyes. and we seldom have a child there. it is a pretty sight!”
“in a word,” said madame defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, “i cannot trust my husband in this matter. not only do i feel, since last night, that i dare not 6 to him the details of my projects; but also i feel that if i delay, there is danger of his giving warning, and then they might escape.”
“that must never be,” croaked jacques three; “no one must escape. we have not half enough as it is. we ought to have six score a day.”
“in a word,” madame defarge went on, “my husband has not my reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and i have not his reason for regarding this doctor with any sensibility. i must act for myself, therefore. come hither, little citizen.”
the wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the 14, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap.
“touching those signals, little citizen,” said madame defarge, sternly, “that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them this very day?”
“ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “every day, in all weathers, from two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes without. i know what i know. i have seen with my eyes.”
he made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidental imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals that he had never seen.
“clearly plots,” said jacques three. “transparently!”
“there is no doubt of the jury?” inquired madame defarge, letting her eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.
“rely upon the 15 jury, dear citizeness. i answer for my fellow-jurymen.”
“now, let me see,” said madame defarge, pondering again. “yet once more! can i spare this doctor to my husband? i have no feeling either way. can i spare him?”
“he would count as one dead,” observed jacques three, in a low voice. “we really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, i think.”
“he was signalling with her when i saw her,” argued madame defarge; “i cannot speak of one without the other; and i must not be silent, and trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here. for i am not a bad witness.”
the vengeance and jacques three vied with each other in their 16 protestations that she was the most admirable and marvellous of witnesses. the little citizen, not to be outdone, declared her to be a 17 witness.
“he must take his chance,” said madame defarge. “no, i cannot spare him! you are engaged at three o’clock; you are going to see the 18 of today executed.—you?”
the question was addressed to the wood-sawyer. who hurriedly replied in the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was the most 19 of republicans, and that he would be in effect the most 20 of republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the pleasure of smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the 21 national barber. he was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have been suspected (perhaps was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at him out of madame defarge’s head) of having his small individual fears for his own personal safety, every hour in the day.
“i,” said madame, “am equally engaged at the same place. after it is over—say at eight tonight—come you to me, in saint antoine, and we will give information against these people at my section.”
the wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the citizeness. the citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, 22 her glance as a small dog would have done, retreated among his wood, and hid his confusion over the handle of his saw.
madame defarge 23 the juryman and the vengeance a little nearer to the door, and there 24 her further views to them thus:
“she will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death, she will be mourning and grieving. she will be in a state of mind to 25 the justice of the republic, she will be full of sympathy with its enemies, i will go to her.”
“what an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!” exclaimed jacques three, rapturously. “ah, my cherished!” cried the vengeance; and embraced her.
“take you my knitting,” said madame defarge, placing it in her lieutenant’s hands, “and have it ready for me in my usual seat, keep me my usual chair, go you there, straight, for there will probably be a greater concourse than usual, today,” “i willingly obey the orders of my chief,” said the vengeance with 26, and kissing her cheek. “you will not be late?”
“i shall be there before the commencement.”
“and before the tumbrils arrive. be sure you are there, my soul,” said the vengeance, calling after her, for she had already turned into the street, “before the tumbrils arrive!”
madame defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard, and might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and so went through the mud, and round the corner of the prison wall. the vengeance and the juryman, looking after her as she walked away, were highly 27 of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments.
there were many women at that time upon whom the time laid a dreadfully disfiguring hand; but there was not one among them more to be 28 than this ruthless woman, now taking her way along the streets. of a strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness, of great determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to impart to its possessor firmness and animosity, but seems to strike into others an 29 recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would have heaved her up, under any circumstances. but, 30 from her childhood with a brooding sense of wrong, and an 31 32 of a class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. she was absolutely without pity, if she had ever had the 33 in her, it had quite gone out of her.
it was nothing to her that an innocent man was to die for the sins of his 34; she saw, not him, but them. it was nothing to her, that his wife was to be made a widow and his daughter an 35; that was 36 punishment, because they were her natural enemies and her 37, and as such had no right to live. to appeal to her, was made hopeless by her having no sense of pity, even for herself, if she had been laid low in the streets, in any of the many encounters in which she had been engaged, she would not have pitied herself; nor, if she had been ordered to the 38 tomorrow, would she have gone to it with any softer feeling than a fierce desire to change places with the man who sent her there.
such a heart madame defarge carried under her rough robe. carelessly worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain 39 way, and her dark hair looked rich under her coarse red cap. lying hidden in her 40, was a loaded pistol. lying hidden at her waist, was a sharpened 41. thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such a character, and with the 42 freedom of a woman who had 43 walked in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown sea sand, madame defarge took her way along the streets, now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night, the difficulty of taking miss pross in it had much engaged mr. lorry’s attention. it was not merely desirable to avoid 44 the coach, but it was of the highest importance that the time occupied in examining it and its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their escape might depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. finally, he had proposed, after anxious consideration, that miss pross and jerry, who were at liberty to leave the city, should leave it at three o’clock in the lightest-wheeled 45 known to that period. unencumbered with luggage, they would soon overtake the coach, and, passing it and preceding it on the road, would order its horses in advance, and greatly facilitate its progress during the precious hours of the night, when delay was the most to be dreaded.
seeing in this arrangement the hope of 46 real service in that pressing emergency, miss pross hailed it with joy. she and jerry had 47 the coach start, had known who it was that solomon brought, had passed some ten minutes in tortures of 48, and were now concluding their arrangements to follow the coach, even as madame defarge, taking her way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the else-49 50 in which they held their 51.
“now what do you think, mr. cruncher,” said miss pross, whose 52 was so great that she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live: “what do you think of our not starting from this court-yard? another carriage having already gone from here today, it might 53 suspicion.”
“my opinion, miss,” returned mr. cruncher, “is as you’re right. likewise wot i’ll stand by you, right or wrong.”
“i am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures,” said miss pross, wildly crying, “that i am 54 of forming any plan. are you capable of forming any plan, my dear good mr. cruncher?”
“respectin’ a future spear o’ life, miss,” returned mr. cruncher, “i hope so. respectin’ any present use o’ this here blessed old head o’ mine, i think not. would you do me the favour, miss, to take notice o’ two promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here crisis?”
“oh, for gracious sake!” cried miss pross, still wildly crying, “record them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent man.”
“first,” said mr. cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with an ashy and solemn visage, “them poor things well out o’ this, never no more will i do it, never no more!”
“i am quite sure, mr. cruncher,” returned miss pross, “that you never will do it again, whatever it is, and i beg you not to think it necessary to mention more particularly what it is.”
“no, miss,” returned jerry, “it shall not be named to you. second: them poor things well out o’ this, and never no more will i 55 with mrs. cruncher’s floppin’, never no more!”
“whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be,” said miss pross, striving to dry her eyes and compose herself, “i have no doubt it is best that mrs. cruncher should have it 57 under her own superintendence. o my poor darlings!”
“i go so far as to say, miss, moreover,” proceeded mr. cruncher, with a most alarming tendency to hold 58 as from a pulpit— “and let my words be took down and took to mrs. cruncher through yourself—that wot my opinions respectin’ floppin’ has undergone a change, and that wot i only hope with all my heart as mrs. cruncher may be a-floppin’ at the present time.”
“there, there, there! i hope she is, my dear man,” cried the distracted miss pross, “and i hope she finds it answering her expectations.”
“forbid it,” proceeded mr. cruncher, with additional solemnity, additional slowness, and additional tendency to hold forth and hold out, “as anything wot i have ever said or done should be wisited on my earnest wishes for them poor creeturs now! forbid it as we shouldn’t all 56 (if it was anyways conwenient) to get ’em out o’ this here 59 risk! forbid it, miss! wot i say, for-bid it!”
this was mr. cruncher’s conclusion after a 60 but vain endeavour to find a better one.
and still madame defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.
“if we ever get back to our native land,” said miss pross, “you may rely upon my telling mrs. cruncher as much as i may be able to remember and understand of what you have so impressively said; and at all events you may be sure that i shall bear witness to your being 61 in earnest at this dreadful time. now, pray let us think! my 62 mr. cruncher, let us think!”
still, madame defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.
“if you were to go before,” said miss pross, “and stop the vehicle and horses from coming here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn’t that be best?”
mr. cruncher thought it might be best.
“where could you wait for me?” asked miss pross.
mr. cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but temple bar. 63 temple bar was hundreds of miles away, and madame defarge was drawing very near indeed.
“by the cathedral door,” said miss pross. “would it be much out of the way, to take me in near the great cathedral door between the two towers?”
“no, miss,” answered mr. cruncher.
“then, like the best of men,” said miss pross, “go to the posting-house straight, and make that change.”
“i am doubtful,” said mr. cruncher, hesitating and shaking his head, “about leaving of you, you see. we don’t know what may happen.”
“heaven knows we don’t,” returned miss pross, “but have no fear for me. take me in at the cathedral, at three o’clock, or as near it as you can, and i am sure it will be better than our going from here. i feel certain of it. there! bless you, mr. cruncher! think—not of me, but of the lives that may depend on both of us!”
this exordium, and miss pross’s two hands in quite agonised 64 clasping his, 65 mr. cruncher. with an encouraging nod or two, he immediately went out to alter the arrangements, and left her by herself to follow as she had proposed.
the having originated a precaution which was already in course of execution, was a great relief to miss pross. the necessity of composing her appearance so that it should attract no special notice in the streets, was another relief. she looked at her watch, and it was twenty minutes past two. she had no time to lose, but must get ready at once.
afraid, in her extreme perturbation, of the loneliness of the deserted rooms, and of half-imagined faces peeping from behind every open door in them, miss pross got a basin of cold water and began laving her eyes, which were 66 and red. haunted by her 67 68, she could not bear to have her sight obscured for a minute at a time by the dripping water, but constantly paused and looked round to see that there was no one watching her. in one of those pauses she 69 and cried out, for she saw a figure 70 i n the room.
the basin fell to the ground broken, and the water flowed to the feet of madame defarge. by strange stern ways, and through much staining blood, those feet had come to meet that water.
madame defarge looked coldly at her, and said. “the wife of evremonde; where is she?”
it flashed upon miss pross’s mind that the doors were all standing open, and would suggest the flight. her first act was to shut them. there were four in the room, and she shut them all. she then placed herself before the door of the 71 which lucie had occupied.
madame defarge’s dark eyes followed her through this rapid movement, and rested on her when it was finished. miss pross had nothing beautiful about her; years had not tamed the wildness, or 72 the grimness, of her appearance; but, she too was a 73 woman in her different way, and she measured madame defarge with her eyes, every inch.
“you might, from your appearance, be the wife of lucifer,” said miss pross, in her breathing. “nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. i am an englishwoman.”
madame defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something of miss pross’s own perception that they two were at bay. she saw a tight, hard, wiry woman before her, as mr. lorry had seen in the same figure a woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by. she knew full well that miss pross was the family’s 74 friend; miss pross knew full well that madame defarge was the family’s 75 enemy.
“on my way yonder,” said madame defarge, with a slight movement of her hand towards the fatal spot, “where they reserve my chair and my knitting for me, i am come to make my compliments to her in passing. i wish to see her.”
“i know that your intentions are evil,” said miss pross, “and you may depend upon it, i’ll hold my own against them.”
each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other’s words; both were very 76, and intent to deduce from look and manner, what the 77 words meant.
“it will do her no good to keep herself 78 from me at this moment,” said madame defarge. “good 79 will know what that means. let me see her. go tell her that i wish to see her. do you hear?”
“if those eyes of yours were bed-winches,” returned miss pross, “and i was an english four-poster, they shouldn’t loose a splinter of me. no, you wicked foreign woman; i am your match.”
madame defarge was not likely to follow these 80 remarks in detail; but, she so far understood them as to perceive that she was set at 81.
“woman imbecile and pig-like!” said madame defarge, frowning. “i take no answer from you. i demand to see her. either tell her that i demand to see her, or stand out of the way of the door and let me go to her!” this, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm.
“i little thought,” said miss pross, “that i should ever want to understand your nonsensical language; but i would give all i have, except the clothes i wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any part of it.”
neither of them for a single moment released the other’s eyes. madame defarge had not moved from the spot where she stood when miss pross first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step.
“i am a briton,” said miss pross. “i am desperate. i don’t care an english twopence for myself. i know that the longer i keep you here, the greater hope there is for my ladybird. i’ll not leave a handful of that dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger on me!”
thus miss pross, with a shake of her head and a flash of her eyes between every rapid sentence, and every rapid sentence a whole breath. thus miss pross, who had never struck a blow in her life.
but, her courage was of that emotional nature that it brought the irrepressible tears into her eyes. this was a courage that madame defarge so little comprehended as to mistake for weakness. “ha, ha!” she laughed, “you poor 82! what are you worth! i address myself to that doctor.” then she raised her voice and called out, “citizen doctor! wife of evremonde! child of evremonde! any person but this 83 fool, answer the citizeness defarge?”
perhaps the following silence, perhaps some latent disclosure in the expression on miss pross’s face, perhaps a sudden 84 apart from either suggestion, whispered to madame defarge that they were gone. three of the doors she opened swiftly, and looked in.
“those rooms are all in 85, there has been hurried packing, there are 86 and ends upon the ground. there is no one in that room behind you! let me look.”
“never!” said miss pross, who understood the request as 87 as madame defarge understood the answer.
“if they are not in that room, they are gone, and can be pursued and brought back,” said madame defarge to herself.
“as long as you don’t know whether they are in that room or not, you are uncertain what to do,” said miss pross to herself; “and you shall not know that, if i can prevent your knowing it; and know that, or not know that, you shall not leave here while i can hold you.”
“i have been in the streets from the first, nothing has stopped me, i will tear you to pieces, but i will have you from that door,” said madame defarge.
“we are alone at the top of a high house in a 88 court-yard, we are not likely to be heard, and i pray for bodily strength to keep you here, while every minute you are here is worth a hundred thousand guineas to my darling,” said miss pross.
madame defarge made at the door. miss pross, on the instinct of the moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and held her tight. it was in vain for madame defarge to struggle and to strike; miss pross, with the vigorous 89 of love, always so much stronger than hate, clasped her tight, and even lifted her from the floor in the struggle that they had. the two hands of madame defarge 90 and tore her face; but, miss pross, with her head down, held her round the waist, and clung to her with more than the hold of a drowning woman.
soon, madame defarge’s hands ceased to strike, and felt at her encircled waist. “it is under my arm,” said miss pross, in 91 tones, “you shall not draw it. i am stronger than you, i bless heaven for it. i’ll hold you till one or other of us faints or dies!”
madame defarge’s hands were at her bosom. miss pross looked up, saw what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and stood alone—blinded with smoke.
all this was in a second. as the smoke cleared. leaving an awful stillness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious woman whose body lay lifeless on the ground. in the first fright and horror of her situation, miss pross passed the body as far from it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for fruitless help.
happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of what she did, in time to check herself and go back. it was dreadful to go in at the door again; but she did go in, and even went near it, to get the 92 and other things that she must wear. these she put on, out on the staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking away the key. she then sat down on the stairs a few moments to breathe and to cry, and then got up and hurried away.
by good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have gone along the streets without being stopped. by good fortune, too, she was naturally so 93 in appearance as not to show disfigurement like any other woman. she needed both advantages, for the marks of gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a hundred ways.
in crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. arriving at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there, she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, and if it were identified, what if the door were opened and the 94 discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and charged with murder! in the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the escort appeared, took her in, and took her away.
“is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him.
“the usual noises,” mr. cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the question and by her aspect.
“i don’t hear you,” said miss pross. “what do you say?”
it was in vain for mr. cruncher to repeat what he said; miss pross could not hear him. “so i’ll nod my head,” thought mr. cruncher, amazed, “at all events she’ll see that.” and she did.
“is there any noise in the streets now?” asked miss pross again, presently.
again mr. cruncher nodded his head.
“i don’t hear it.”
“gone deaf in a hour?” said mr. cruncher, 95, with his mind much disturbed; “wot’s come to her?”
“i feel,” said miss pross, “as if there had been a flash and a crash, and that crash was the last thing i should ever hear in this life.”
“blest if she ain’t in a queer condition!” said mr. cruncher, more and more disturbed. “wot can she have been a takin’, to keep her courage up? hark! there’s the roll of them dreadful carts! you can hear that, miss?”
“i can hear,” said miss pross, seeing that he spoke to her, “nothing. o, my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness, and that stillness seems to be 96 and unchangeable, never to be broken any more as long as my life lasts.”
“if she don’t hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their journey’s end,” said mr. cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, “it’s my opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world.”
and indeed she never did.
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