双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第45部分

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The　people　immediately　behind　Madame　Defarge；　explaining　the　cause　of　her　satisfaction　to　those　behind　them；　and　those　again　explaining　to　others；　and　those　to　others；　the　neighbouring　streets　resounded　with　the　clapping　of　hands。　Similarly；　during　two　or　three　hours　of　brawl；　and　the　winnowing　of　many　bushels　of　words；　Madame　Defarge's　frequent　expressions　of　impatience　were　taken　up；　with　marvellous　quickness；　at　a　distance：　the　more　readily；　because　certain　men　who　had　by　some　wonderful　exercise　of　agility　climbed　up　the　external　architecture　to　look　in　from　the　windows；　knew　Madame　Defarge　well；　and　acted　as　a　telegraph　between　her　and　the　crowd　outside　the　building。
At　length　the　sun　rose　so　high　that　it　struck　a　kindly　ray　as　of　hope　or　protection；　directly　down　upon　the　old　prisoner's　head。　The　favour　was　too　much　to　bear；　in　an　instant　the　barrier　of　dust　and　chaff　that　had　stood　surprisingly　long；　went　to　the　winds；　and　Saint　Antoine　had　got　him！
It　was　known　directly；　to　the　furthest　confines　of　the　crowd。　Defarge　had　but　sprung　over　a　railing　and　a　table；　and　folded　the　miserable　wretch　in　a　deadly　embrace……Madame　Defarge　had　but　followed　and　turned　her　hand　in　one　of　the　ropes　with　which　he　was　tied……The　Vengeance　and　Jacques　Three　were　not　yet　up　with　them；　and　the　men　at　the　windows　had　not　yet　swooped　into　the　Hall；　like　birds　of　prey　from　their　high　perches……when　the　cry　seemed　to　go　up；　all　over　the　city；　‘Bring　him　out！　Bring　him　to　the　lamp！'
Down；　and　up；　and　head　foremost　on　the　steps　of　the　building；　now；　on　his　knees；　now；　on　his　feet；　now；　on　his　back；　dragged；　and　struck　at；　and　stifled　by　the　bunches　of　grass　and　straw　that　were　thrust　into　his　face　by　hundreds　of　hands；　torn；　bruised；　panting；　bleeding；　yet　always　entreating　and　beseeching　for　mercy；　now　full　of　vehement　agony　of　action；　with　a　small　clear　space　about　him　as　the　people　drew　one　another　back　that　they　might　see；　now；　a　log　of　dead　wood　drawn　through　a　forest　of　legs；　he　was　hauled　to　the　nearest　street　corner　where　one　of　the　fatal　lamps　swung；　and　there　Madame　Defarge　let　him　go……as　a　cat　might　have　done　to　a　mouse……and　silently　and　posedly　looked　at　him　while　they　made　ready；　and　while　he　besought　her：　the　women　passionately　screeching　at　him　all　the　time；　and　the　men　sternly　calling　out　to　have　him　killed　with　grass　in　his　mouth。　Once；　he　went　aloft；　and　the　rope　broke；　and　they　caught　him　shrieking；　twice；　he　went　aloft；　and　the　rope　broke；　and　they　caught　him　shrieking；　then；　the　rope　was　merciful；　and　held　him；　and　his　head　was　soon　upon　a　pike；　with　grass　enough　in　the　mouth　for　all　Saint　Antoine　to　dance　at　the　sight　of。　Nor　was　this　the　end　of　the　day's　bad　work；　for　Saint　Antoine　so　shouted　and　danced　his　angry　blood　up；　that　it　boiled　again；　on　hearing　when　the　day　closed　in　that　the　son…in…law　of　the　despatched；　another　of　the　people's　enemies　and　insulters；　was　ing　into　Paris　under　guard　five　hundred　strong；　in　cavalry　alone。　Saint　Antoine　wrote　his　crimes　on　flaring　sheets　of　paper；　seized　him……would　have　torn　him　out　of　the　breast　of　an　army　to　bear　Foulon　pany……set　his　head　and　heart　on　pikes；　and　carried　the　three　spoils　of　the　day；　in　Wolf…procession；　through　the　streets。
Not　before　dark　night　did　the　men　and　women　e　back　to　the　children；　wailing　and　breadless。　Then；　the　miserable　bakers'　shops　were　beset　by　long　files　of　them；　patiently　waiting　to　buy　bad　bread；　and　while　they　waited　with　stomachs　faint　and　empty；　they　beguiled　the　time　by　embracing　one　another　on　the　triumphs　of　the　day；　and　achieving　them　again　in　gossip。　Gradually；　these　strings　of　ragged　people　shortened　and　frayed　away；　and　then　poor　lights　began　to　shine　in　high　windows；　and　slender　fires　were　made　in　the　streets；　at　which　neighbours　cooked　in　mon；　afterwards　supping　at　their　doors。
Scanty　and　insufficient　suppers　those；　and　innocent　of　meat；　as　of　most　other　sauce　to　wretched　bread。　Yet；　human　fellowship　infused　some　nourishment　into　the　flinty　viands；　and　struck　some　sparks　of　cheerfulness　out　of　them。　Fathers　and　mothers　who　had　had　their　full　share　in　the　worst　of　the　day；　played　gently　with　their　meagre　children；　and　lovers；　with　such　a　world　around　them　and　before　them；　loved　and　hoped。
It　was　almost　morning；　when　Defarge's　wine…shop　parted　with　its　last　knot　of　customers；　and　Monsieur　Defarge　said　to　madame　his　wife；　in　husky　tones；　while　fastening　the　door：
‘At　last　it　is　e；　my　dear！'　
‘Eh　well！'　returned　madame。　‘Almost。'
Saint　Antoine　slept；　the　Defarges　slept：　even　The　Vengeance　slept　with　her　starved　grocer；　and　the　drum　was　at　rest。　The　drum's　was　the　only　voice　in　Saint　Antoine　that　blood　and　hurry　had　not　changed。　The　Vengeance；　as　custodian　of　the　drum；　could　have　wakened　him　up　and　had　the　same　speech　out　of　him　as　before　the　Bastille　fell；　or　old　Foulon　was　seized；　not　so　with　the　hoarse　tones　of　the　men　and　women　in　Saint　Antoine's　bosom。　
CHAPTER　XXIII
Fire　Rises
THERE　was　a　change　on　the　village　where　the　fountain　fell；　and　where　the　mender　of　roads　went　forth　daily　to　hammer　out　of　the　stones　on　the　highway　such　morsels　of　bread　as　might　serve　for　patches　to　hold　his　poor　ignorant　soul　and　his　poor　reduced　body　together。　The　prison　on　the　crag　was　not　so　dominant　as　of　yore；　there　were　soldiers　to　guard　it；　but　not　many；　there　were　officers　to　guard　the　soldiers；　but　not　one　of　them　knew　what　his　men　would　do……beyond　this：　that　it　would　probably　not　be　what　he　was　ordered。
Far　and　wide　lay　a　ruined　country；　yielding　nothing　but　desolation。　Every　green　leaf；　every　blade　of　grass　and　blade　of　grain；　was　as　shrivelled　and　poor　as　the　miserable　people。　Everything　was　bowed　down；　dejected；　oppressed；　and　broken。　Habitations；　fences；　domesticated　animals；　men；　women；　children；　and　the　soil　that　bore　them……all　worn　out。
Monseigneur　（often　a　most　worthy　individual　gentleman）　was　a　national　blessing；　gave　a　chivalrous　tone　to　things；　was　a　polite　example　of　luxurious　and　shining　life；　and　a　great　deal　more　to　equal　purpose；　nevertheless；　Monseigneur　as　a　class　had；　somehow　or　other；　brought　things　to　this。　Strange　that　Creation；　designed　expressly　for　Monseigneur；　should　be　so　soon　wrung　dry　and　squeezed　out！　There　must　be　something　short…sighted　in　the　eternal　arrangements；　surely　Thus　it　was；　however；　and　the　last　drop　of　blood　having　been　extracted　from　the　flints；　and　the　last　screw　of　the　rack　having　been　turned　so　often　that　its　purchase　crumbled；　and　it　now　turned　and　turned　with　nothing　to　bite；　Monseigneur　began　to　run　away　from　a　phenomenon　so　low　and　unaccountable。
But；　this　was　not　the　change　on　the　village；　and　on　many　a　village　like　it。　For　scores　of　years　gone　by；　Monseigneur　had　squeezed　it　and　wrung　it；　and　had　seldom　graced　it　with　his　presence　except　for　the　pleasures　of　the　chase……now；　found　in　hunting　the　people；　now；　found　in　hunting　the　beasts；　for　whose　preservation　Monseigneur　made　edifying　spaces　of　barbarous　and　barren　wilderness。　No。　The　change　consisted　in　the　appearance　of　strange　faces　of　low　caste；　rather　than　in　the　disappearance　of　the　high…caste；　chiseled；　and　otherwise　beatified　and　beatifying　features　of　Monseigneur。
For；　in　these　times；　as　the　mender　of　roads　worked；　solitary；　in　the　dust；　not　often　troubling　himself　to　reflect　that　dust　he　was　and　to　dust　he　must　return；　being　for　the　most　part　too　much　occupied　in　thinking　how　little　he　had　for　supper　and　how　much　more　he　would　eat　if　he　had　it……in　these　times；　as　he　raised　his　eyes　from　his　lonely　labour；　and　viewed　the　prospect；　he　would　see　some　rough　figure　approaching　on　foot；　the　like　of　which　was　once　a　rarity　in　those　parts；　but　was　now　a　frequent　presence。　As　it　advanced；　the　mender　of　roads　would　discern　without　surprise；　that　it　was　a　shaggy…haired　man；　of　almost　barbarian　aspect；　tall；　in　wooden　shoes　that　were　clumsy　even　to　the　eyes　of　a　mender　of　roads；　grim；　rough；　swart；　steeped　in　the　mud　and　dust　of　many　highways；　dank　with　the　marshy　moisture　of　many　low　grounds；　sprinkled　with　the　thorns　and　leaves　and　moss　of　many　byways　through　woods。
Such　a　man　came　upon　him；　like　a　ghost；　at　noon　in　the　July　weather；　as　he　sat　on　his　heap　of　stones　under　a　bank；　taking　such　shelter　as　he　could　get　from　a　shower　of　hail。
The　man　looked　at　him；　looked　at　the　village　in　the　hollow；　at　the　mill；　and　at　the　prison　on　the　crag。　When　he　had　identified　these　objects　in　what　benighted　mind　he　had；　he　said；　in　a　dialect　that　was　just　intelligible：
‘How　goes　it；　Jacques？'
‘All　well；　Jacques。'
‘Touch　then！'
They　joined　hands；　and　the　man　sat　down　on　the　heap　of　stones。
‘No　dinner？'
‘Nothing　but　supper　now；'　said　the　mender　of　roads；　with　a　hungry　face。
‘It　is　the　fashion；'　growled　the　man。　‘I　meet　no　dinner　anywhere。'
He　took　out　a　blackened　pipe；　filled　it；　lighted　it　with　flint　and　steel；　pulled　at　it　until　it　was　in　a　bright　glow：　then；　suddenly　held　it　from　him　and　dropped　something　into　it　from　between　his　finger　and　thumb；　that　blazed　and　went　out　in　a　puff　of　smoke。
‘Touch　then。'　It　was　the　turn　of　the　mender　of　roads　to　say　it　this　time；　after　observing　these　operations。　They　again　joined　hands。
‘To…night？'　said　the　mender　of　roads。
‘To…night；'　said　the　man；　putting　the　pipe　in　his　mouth。　
‘Where？'　
‘Here。'
He　and　the　mender　of　roads　sat　on　the　heap　of　stones　looking　silently　at　one　another；　with　the　hail　driving　in　between　them　like　a　pigmy　charge　of　bayonets；　until　the　sky　began　to　clear　over　the　village。
‘Show　me！'　said　the　traveller　then；　moving　to　the　brow　of　the　hill。
‘See。'　returned　the　mender　of　roads；　with　extended　finger。　‘You　go　down　here；　and　straight　through　the　street；　and　past　the　fountain………
‘To　the　Devil　with　all　that！'　interrupted　the　other；　rolling　his　eye　over　the　landscape。　‘I　go　through　no　streets　and　past　no　fountains。　Well？'
‘Well！　About　two　leagues　beyond　the　summit　of　that　hill　above　the　village。'
‘Good。　When　do　you　cease　to　work？'　
‘At　sunset。'
‘Will　you　wake　me；　before　departing？　I　have　walked　two　nights　without　resting。　Let　me　finish　my　pipe；　and　I　shall　sleep　like　a　child。　Will　you　wake　me？'
‘Surely。'
The　wayfarer　smoked　his　pipe　out；　put　it　in　his　breast；　slipped　off　his　great　wooden　shoes；　and　lay　down　on　his　back　on　the　heap　of　stones。　He　was　fast　asleep　directly。
As　the　road…men