a tale of two cities(双城记)-第48部分

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of　steps；　and　again　up　steep　rugged　ascents　of　stone　and　brick；　more　like　dry　waterfalls　than　staircases；　Defarge；　the　turnkey；　and　Jacques　Three；　linked　hand　and　arm；　went　with　all　the　speed　they　could　make。　Here　and　there；　especially　at　first；　the　inundation　started　on　them　and　swept　by；　but　when　they　had　done　descending；　and　were　winding　and　climbing　up　a　tower；　they　were　alone。　Hemmed　in　here　by　the　massive　thickness　of　walls　and　arches；　the　storm　within　the　fortress　and　without　was　only　audible　to　them　in　a　dull；　subdued　way；　as　if　the　noise　out　of　which　they　had　come　had　almost　destroyed　their　sense　of　hearing。　
　The　turnkey　stopped　at　a　low　door；　put　a　key　in　a　clashing　lock；　swung　the　door　slowly　open；　and　said；　as　they　all　bent　their　heads　and　passed　in：　
　‘One　hundred　and　five；　North　Tower！'　
　There　was　a　small；　heavily…grated；　unglazed　window　high　in　the　wall；　with　a　stone　screen　before　it；　so　that　the　sky　could　be　only　seen　by　stooping　low　and　looking　up。　There　was　a　small　chimney；　heavily　barred　across；　a　few　feet　within。　There　was　a　heap　of　old　feathery　wood…ashes　on　the　hearth。　There　was　a　stool；　and　table；　and　a　straw　bed。　There　were　the　four　blackened　walls；　and　a　rusted　iron　ring　in　one　of　them。　
　‘Pass　that　torch　slowly　along　these　walls；　that　I　may　see　them；'　said　Defarge　to　the　turnkey。　
　The　man　obeyed；　and　Defarge　followed　the　light　closely　with　his　eyes。　
　‘StopLook　here；　Jacques！'　
　‘A。　M。！'　croaked　Jacques　Three；　as　he　read　greedily。　
　‘Alexandre　Manette；'　said　Defarge　in　his　ear；　following　the　letters　with　his　swart　forefinger；　deeply　engrained　with　gunpowder。　‘And　here　he　wrote　‘‘a　poor　physician。''　And　it　was　he；　without　doubt；　who　scratched　a　calendar　on　this　stone。　What　is　that　in　your　hand？　A　crowbar？　Give　it　me！'　
　He　had　still　the　linstock　of　his　gun　in　his　own　hand。　He　made　a　sudden　exchange　of　the　two　instruments；　and　turning　on　the　worm…eaten　stool　and　table；　beat　them　to　pieces　in　a　few　blows。　
　‘Hold　the　light　higher！'　he　said；　wrathfully；　to　the　turnkey。　‘Look　among　those　fragments　with　care；　Jacques。　And　see！　Here　is　my　knife；'　throwing　it　to　him；　‘rip　open　that　bed；　and　search　the　straw。　Hold　the　light　higher；　you！'　
　With　a　menacing　look　at　the　turnkey　he　crawled　upon　the　hearth；　and；　peering　up　the　chimney；　struck　and　prised　at　its　sides　with　the　crowbar；　and　worked　at　the　iron　grating　across　it。　In　a　few　minutes；　some　mortar　and　dust　came　dropping　down；　which　he　averted　his　face　to　avoid；　and　in　it；　and　in　the　old　wood…ashes；　and　in　a　crevice　in　the　chimney　into　which　his　weapon　had　slipped　or　wrought　itself；　he　groped　with　a　cautious　touch。　
　‘Nothing　in　the　wood；　and　nothing　in　the　straw；　Jacques？'　
‘Nothing。'　
　‘Let　us　collect　them　together；　in　the　middle　of　the　cell。　So！　Light　them；　you！'　
　The　turnkey　fired　the　little　pile；　which　blazed　high　and　hot。　Stooping　again　to　come　out　at　the　low…arched　door；　they　left　it　burning；　and　retraced　their　way　to　the　court…yard；　seeming　to　recover　their　sense　of　hearing　as　they　came　down；　until　they　were　in　the　raging　flood　once　more。　
　They　found　it　surging　and　tossing；　in　quest　of　Defarge　himself。　Saint　Antoine　was　clamorous　to　have　its　wine…shop　keeper　foremost　in　the　guard　upon　the　governor　who　had　defended　the　Bastille　and　shot　the　people。　Otherwise；　the　governor　would　not　be　marched　to　the　Hotel　de　Ville　for　judgment。　Otherwise；　the　governor　would　escape；　and　the　people's　blood　（suddenly　of　some　value；　after　many　years　of　worthlessness）　be　unavenged。　
　In　the　howling　universe　of　passion　and　contention　that　seemed　to　encompass　this　grim　old　officer　conspicuous　in　his　grey　coat　and　red　decoration；　there　was　but　one　quite　steady　figure；　and　that　was　a　woman's。　‘See；　there　is　my　husband！'　she　cried；　pointing　him　out。　‘See　Defarge！'　She　stood　immovable　close　to　the　grim　old　officer；　and　remained　immovable　close　to　him；　remained　immovable　close　to　him　through　the　streets；　as　Defarge　and　the　rest　bore　him　along；　remained　immovable　close　to　him　when　he　was　got　near　his　destination；　and　began　to　be　struck　at　from　behind；　remained　immovable　close　to　him　when　the　long…gathering　rain　of　stabs　and　blows　fell　heavy；　was　so　close　to　him　when　he　dropped　dead　under　it；　that；　suddenly　animated；　she　put　her　foot　upon　his　neck；　and　with　her　cruel　knife…long　‘ready…hewed　off　his　head。　
　The　hour　was　come；　when　Saint　Antoine　was　to　execute　his　horrible　idea　of　hoisting　up　men　for　lamps　to　show　what　he　could　be　and　do。　Saint　Antoine's　blood　was　up；　and　the　blood　of　tyranny　and　domination　by　the　iron　hand　was　downdown　on　the　steps　of　the　Hotel　de　Ville　where　the　governor's　body　laydown　on　the　sole　of　the　shoe　of　Madame　Defarge　where　she　had　trodden　on　the　body　to　steady　it　for　mutilation。　‘Lower　the　lamp　yonder！'　cried　Saint　Antoine；　after　glaring　round　for　a　new　means　of　death；　‘here　is　one　of　his　soldiers　to　be　left　on　guard！'　The　swinging　sentinel　was　posted；　and　the　sea　rushed　on。　
　The　sea　of　black　and　threatening　waters；　and　of　destructive　upheaving　of　wave　against　wave；　whose　depths　were　yet　unfathomed　and　whose　forces　were　yet　unknown。　The　remorseless　sea　of　turbulently　swaying　shapes；　voices　of　vengeance；　and　faces　hardened　in　the　furnaces　of　suffering　until　the　touch　of　pity　could　make　no　mark　on　them。　
　But；　in　the　ocean　of　faces　where　every　fierce　and　furious　expression　was　in　vivid　life；　there　were　two　groups　of　faceseach　seven　in　numberso　fixedly　contrasting　with　the　rest；　that　never　did　sea　roll　which　bore　more　memorable　wrecks　with　it。　Seven　faces　of　prisoners；　suddenly　released　by　the　storm　that　had　burst　their　tomb；　were　carried　high　overhead：　all　scared；　all　lost；　all　wondering　and　amazed；　as　if　the　Last　Day　were　come；　and　those　who　rejoiced　around　them　were　lost　spirits。　Other　seven　faces　there　were；　carried　higher；　seven　dead　faces；　whose　drooping　eyelids　and　half…seen　eyes　awaited　the　Last　Day。　Impassive　faces；　yet　with　a　suspendednot　an　abolishedexpression　on　them；　faces；　rather；　in　a　fearful　pause；　as　having　yet　to　raise　the　dropped　lids　of　the　eyes；　and　bear　witness　with　the　bloodless　lips；　‘THOU　DIDST　IT！'　
　Seven　prisoners　released；　seven　gory　heads　on　pikes；　the　keys　of　the　accursed　fortress　of　the　eight　strong　towers；　some　discovered　letters　and　other　memorials　of　prisoners　of　old　time；　long　dead　of　broken　hearts；such；　and　such…like；　the　loudly　echoing　footsteps　of　Saint　Antoine　escort　through　the　Paris　streets　in　mid…July；　one　thousand　seven　hundred　and　eighty…nine。　Now；　Heaven　defeat　the　fancy　of　Lucie　Darnay；　and　keep　these　feet　far　out　of　her　life！　For；　they　are　headlong；　mad；　and　dangerous；　and　in　the　years　so　long　after　the　breaking　of　the　cask　at　Defarge's　wine…shop　door；　they　are　not　easily　purified　when　once　stained　red。　

CHAPTER　XXII
The　Sea　still　Rises
　
HAGGARD　Saint　Antoine　had　had　only　one　exultant　week；　in　which　to　soften　his　modicum　of　hard　and　bitter　bread　to　such　extent　as　he　could；　with　the　relish　of　fraternal　embraces　an　congratulations；　when　Madame　Defarge　sat　at　her　counter；　as　usual；　presiding　over　the　customers。　Madame　Defarge　wore　no　rose　in　her　head；　for　the　great　brotherhood　of　Spies　had　become；　even　in　one　short　week；　extremely　chary　of　trusting　themselves　to　the　saint's　mercies。　The　lamps　had　a　portentously　elastic　swing　with　them。　
Madame　Defarge；　with　her　arms　folded；　sat　in　the　morning　light　and　heat；　contemplating　the　wine…shop　and　the　street。　In　both；　there　were　several　knots　of　loungers；　squalid　and　miserable；　but　now　with　a　manifest　sense　of　power　enthroned　on　their　distress。　The　raggedest　nightcap；　awry　on　the　wretchedest　head；　had　this　crooked　significance　in　it：　‘I　know　how　hard　it　has　grown　for　me；　the　wearer　of　this；　to　support　life　in　myself；　but　do　you　know　how　easy　it　has　grown　for　me；　the　wearer　of　this；　to　destroy　life　in　you？'　Every　lean　bare　arm；　that　had　been　without　work　before；　had　this　work　always　ready　for　it　now；　that　it　could　strike。　The　fingers　of　the　knitting　women　were　vicious；　with　the　experience　that　they　could　tear。　There　was　a　change　in　the　appearance　of　Saint　Antoine；　the　hammering　into　this　for　hundreds　of　years；　and　the　last　finishing　blows　had　told　mightily　on　the　expression。　
　Madame　Defarge　sat　observing　it；　with　such　suppressed　approval　as　was　to　be　desired　in　the　leader　of　the　Saint　Antoine　women。　One　of　her　sisterhood　knitted　beside　her。　The　short；　rather　plump　wife　of　a　starved　grocer；　and　the　mother　of　two　children　withal；　this　lieutenant　had　already　earned　the　complimentary　name　of　The　Vengeance。　
　‘Hark！'　said　The　Vengeance。　‘Listen；　then！　Who　comes？'　
As　if　a　train　of　powder　laid　from　the　outermost　bound　of　the　Saint　Antoine　Quarter　to　the　wine…shop　door；　had　been　suddenly　fired；　a　fast…spreading　murmur　came　rushing　along。　
‘It　is　Defarge；'　said　madame。　‘Silence；　patriots！'　
　Defarge　came　in　breathless；　pulled　off　a　red　cap　he　wore；　and　looked　around　him！　‘Listen；　everywhere！'　said　madame　again。　‘Listen　to　him！'　Defarge　stood；　panting；　against　a　background　of　eager　eyes　and　open　mouths；　formed　outside　the　door；　all　those　within　the　wine…shop　had　sprung　to　their　feet。　
　‘Say　then；　my　husband。　What　is　it？'　
‘News　from　the　other　world！'　
　‘How；　then？'　cried　madame；　contemptuously。　‘The　other　world？'　
　‘Does　everybody　here　recall　old　Fou