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a tale of two cities(双城记)-第77部分

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of their marriage。 He entreated her; for her father's sake; never to seek to know whether her father had become oblivious of the existence of the paper; or had had it recalled to him (for the moment; or for good); by the story of the Tower; on that old Sunday under the dear old plane…tree in the garden。 If he had preserved any definite remembrance of it; there could be no doubt that he had supposed it destroyed with the Bastille; when he had found no mention of it among the relics of prisoners which the populace had discovered there; and which had been described to all the world。 He besought herthough he added that he knew it was needlessto console her father; by impressing him through every tender means she could think of; with the truth that he had done nothing for which he could justly reproach himself; but had uniformly forgotten himself for their joint sakes。 Next to her preservation of his own last grateful love and blessing; and her overcoming of her sorrow; to devote herself to their dear child; he adjured her; as they would meet in Heaven; to comfort her father。 
 To her father himself he wrote in the same strain; but; he told her father that he expressly confided his wife and child to his care。 And he told him this; very strongly; with the hope of rousing him from any despondency or dangerous retrospect towards which he foresaw he might be tending。 
To Mr。 Lorry; he commended them all; and explained his worldly affairs。 That done; with many added sentences of grateful friendship and warm attachment; all was done。 He never thought of Carton。 His mind was so full of the others; that he never once thought of him。 
 He had time to finish these letters before the lights were put out。 When he lay down on his straw bed; he thought he had done with this world。 
 But; it beckoned him back in his sleep; and showed itself in shining forms。 Free and happy; back in the old house in Soho (though it had nothing in it like the real house); unaccountably released and light of heart; he was with Lucie again; and she told him it was all a dream; and he had never gone away。 A pause of forgetfulness; and then lie had even suffered; and had come back to her; dead and at peace; and yet there was no difference in him。 Another pause of oblivion; and he awoke in the sombre morning; unconscious where he was or what had happened; until it flashed upon his mind; ‘this is the day of my death' 
 Thus; had he come through the hours; to the day when the fifty…two heads were to fall。 And now; while he was composed; and hoped that he could meet the end with quiet heroism; a new action began in his waking thoughts; which was very difficult to master。 
 He had never seen the instrument that was to terminate his life。 How high it was from the ground; how many steps it had; where he would be stood; how he would be touched; whether the touching hands would be dyed red; which way his face would be turned; whether he would be the first; or might be the last: these and many similar questions; in no wise directed by his will; obtruded themselves over and over again; countless times。 Neither were they connected with fear: he was conscious of no fear。 Rather; they originated in a strange besetting desire to know what to do when the time came; a desire gigantically disproportionate to the few swift moments to which it referred; a wondering that was more like the wondering of some other spirit within his; than his own。 
 The hours went on as lie walked to and fro; and the clocks struck the numbers he would never hear again。 Nine cone for ever; ten gone for ever; eleven gone for ever; twelve coming on to pass away。 After a hard contest with that eccentric action of thought which had last perplexed him; he had got the better of it。 He walked up and down; softly repeating their names to himself。 The worst of the strife was over。 He could walk up and down; free from distracting fancies; praying for himself and for them。 
 Twelve gone for ever。 
 He had been apprised that the final hour was Three; and he knew he would be summoned some time earlier; inasmuch as the tumbrils jolted heavily and slowly through the streets。 Therefore; he resolved to keep Two before his mind; as the hour; and so to strengthen himself in the interval that he might be able; after that time; to strengthen others。 
 Walking regularly to and fro with his arms folded on his breast; a very different man from the prisoner; who had walked to and fro at La Force; he heard One struck away from him; without surprise。 The hour had measured like most other hours。 Devoutly thankful to Heaven for his recovered self…possession; he thought; ‘There is but another now;' and turned to walk again。 
 Footsteps in the stone passage outside the door。 He stopped。 
The key was put in the lock; and turned。 Before the door was opened; or as it opened; a man said in a low voice; in English: ‘He has never seen me here; I have kept out of his way。 Go you in alone; I wait near。 Lose no time!' 
 The door was quickly opened and closed; and there stood before him face to face; quiet; intent upon him; with the light of a smile on his features; and a cautionary finger on his lip; Sydney Carton。 
 There was something so bright and remarkable in his look; that; for the first moment; the prisoner misdoubted him to be an apparition of his own imagining。 But; he spoke; and it was his voice; he took the prisoner's hand; and it was his real grasp。 
 ‘Of all the people upon earth; you least expected to see me?' he said。 
 ‘I could not believe it to be you。 I can scarcely believe it now。 You are not'the apprehension came suddenly into his mind‘a prisoner?' 
 ‘No。 I am accidentally possessed of a power over one of the keepers here; and in virtue of it I stand before you。 I come from heryour wife; dear Darnay。' 
 The prisoner wrung his hand。 
 ‘I bring you a request from her。' 
‘What is it?' 
 ‘A most earnest; pressing; and emphatic entreaty; addressed to you in the most pathetic tones of the voice so dear to you; that you well remember。' 
 The prisoner turned his face partly aside。 
 ‘You have no time to ask me why I bring it; or what it means; I have no time to tell you。 You must comply with ittake off those boots you wear; and draw on these of mine。' 
 There was a chair against the wall of the cell; behind the prisoner。 Carton; pressing forward; had already; with the speed of lightning; got him down into it; and stood over him; barefoot。 
 ‘Draw on these boots of mine。 Put your hands to them; put your will to them。 Quick!' 
 ‘Carton; there is no escaping from this place; it never can be done。 You will only die with me。 It is madness。' 
 ‘It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? 
When I ask you to pass out at that door; tell me it is madness and remain here。 Change that cravat for this of mine; that coat for this of mine。 While you do it; let me take this ribbon from your hair; and shake out your hair like this of mine!' 
 With wonderful quickness; and with a strength both of will and action; that appeared quite supernatural; he forced all these changes upon him。 The prisoner was like a young child in his hands。 
 ‘Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness。 It cannot be accomplished; it never can be done; it has been attempted; and has always failed。 I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine。 
 ‘Do I ask you; my dear Darnay; to pass the door? When I ask that; refuse。 There are pen and ink and paper on this table。 Is your hand steady enough to write?' 
 ‘It was when you came in。 
 ‘Steady it again; and write what I shall dictate。 Quick; friend; quick!' 
 Pressing his hand to his bewildered head; Darnay sat down at the table。 Carton; with his right hand in his breast; stood close beside him。 
 ‘Write exactly as I speak。' 
 ‘To whom do I address it?' 
 ‘To no one。' Carton still had his hand in his breast。 
 ‘Do I date it?' 
‘No。' 
 The prisoner looked up; at each question。 Carton; standing over him with his hand in his breast; looked down。 
 ‘‘‘If you remember;''' said Carton; dictating; ‘‘‘the words that passed between us; long ago; you will readily comprehend this when you see it。 You do remember them; I know。 It is not in your nature to forget them。''' 
 He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote; the hand stopped; closing upon something。 
 ‘Have you written ‘‘forget them!'' Carton asked。 
 ‘I have。 Is that a weapon in your hand?' 
 ‘No; I am not armed。' 
 ‘What is it in your hand?' 
 ‘You shall know directly。 Write on; there are but a few words more。' He dictated again。 ‘‘‘I am thankful that the time has come; when I can prove them。 That I do so is no subject for regret or grief。''' As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer; his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer's face。 
 The pen dropped from Darnay's fingers on the table; and he looked about him vacantly。 
 ‘What vapour is that?' he asked。 
 ‘Vapour?' 
 ‘Something that crossed me?' 
 ‘I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here。 Take up the pen and finish。 Hurry; hurry!' 
 As if his memory were impaired; or his faculties disordered; the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention。 As he looked at Carton with
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