Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a
courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the
staircase into a garret—formerly the garret where a white-haired
man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making
shoes.
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A Tale of Two Cities
No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were
there who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between
them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link,
that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wall.
Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued
voice:
“Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness
encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell
you all. Speak, Jacques Five!”
The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy
forehead with it, and said, “Where shall I commence, monsieur?”
“Commence,” was Monsieur Defarge’s not unreasonable reply,
“at the commencement.”
“I saw him then, messieurs,” began the mender of roads, “a
year ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of the
Marquis, hanging by the chain. Be hold the manner of it. I leaving
my work on the road, the sun going to bed, the carriage of the
Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hanged by the chain—like
this.”
Again the mender of roads went through the whole
performance; in which he ought to have been perfect by that time,
seeing that it had been the infallible resource and indispensable
entertainment of his village during a whole year.
Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the man
before?
“Never,” answered the mender of roads, recovering his
perpendicular.
Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him
then?
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A Tale of Two Cities
“By his tall figure,” said the mender of roads, softly, and with
his finger at his nose. “When Monsieur the Marquis demands that
evening, ‘Say, what is he like?’ I make response, ‘Tall as a
spectre.’”
“You should have said, short as a dwarf,” returned Jacques
Two.
“But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished,
neither did he confide in me. Observe! Under those circumstances
even, I do not offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis indicates
me with his finger, standing near our little fountain, and says, ‘To
me! Bring that rascal!’ My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing.”
“He is right there, Jacques,” murmured Defarge, to him who
had interrupted. “Go on!”
“Good!” said the mender of roads with an air of mystery. “The
tall man is lost, and he is sought—how many months? Nine, ten,
eleven?”
“No matter, the number,” said Defarge. “He is well hidden, but
at last he is unluckily found. Go on!”
“I am again at work upon the hillside, and the sun is again
about to go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to my
cottage down in the village below, where it is already dark, when I
raise my eyes, and see coming over the hill six soldiers. In the
midst of them is a tall man with his arms bound—tied to his
sides—like this!”
With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man
with his elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were
knotted behind him.
“I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see the
soldiers and their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road, that,
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A Tale of Two Cities
where any spectacle is well worth looking at), and at first, as they
approach, I see no more than that they are six soldiers with a tall
man bound, and that they are almost black to my sight—except on
the side of the sun going to bed, where they have a red edge,
messieurs. Also, I see that the"};
