双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第55部分

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e　heads　off；　in　one　morning；　in　as　many　minutes。　The　name　of　the　strong　man　of　Old　Scripture　had　descended　to　the　chief　functionary　who　worked　it；　but；　so　armed；　he　was　stronger　than　his　namesake；　and　blinder；　and　tore　away　the　gates　of　God's　own　Temple　every　day。
Among　these　terrors；　and　the　brood　belonging　to　them；　the　Doctor　walked　with　a　steady　head：　confident　in　his　power；　cautiously　persistent　in　his　end；　never　doubting　that　he　would　save　Lucie's　husband　at　last。　Yet　the　current　of　the　time　swept　by；　so　strong　and　deep；　and　carried　the　time　away　so　fiercely；　that　Charles　had　lain　in　prison　one　year　and　three　months　when　the　Doctor　was　thus　steady　and　confident。　So　much　more　wicked　and　distracted　had　the　Revolution　grown　in　that　December　month；　that　the　rivers　of　the　South　were　encumbered　with　the　bodies　of　the　violently　drowned　by　night；　and　prisoners　were　shot　in　lines　and　squares　under　the　southern　wintry　sun。　Still；　the　Doctor　walked　among　the　terrors　with　a　steady　head。　No　man　better　known　than　he；　in　Paris　at　that　day；　no　man　in　a　stranger　situation。　Silent；　humane；　indispensable　in　hospital　and　prison；　using　his　art　equally　among　assassins　and　victims；　he　was　a　man　apart。　In　the　exercise　of　his　skill；　the　appearance　and　the　story　of　the　Bastille　Captive　removed　him　from　all　other　men。　He　was　not　suspected　or　brought　in　question；　any　more　than　if　he　had　indeed　been　recalled　to　life　some　eighteen　years　before；　or　were　a　Spirit　moving　among　mortals。　
CHAPTER　V
The　Wood…sawyer
ONE　a　year　and　three　months。　During　all　that　time　Lucie　was　never　sure；　from　hour　to　hour；　but　that　the　Guillotine　would　strike　off　her　husband's　head　next　day。　Every　day；　through　the　stony　streets；　the　tumbrils　now　jolted　heavily；　filled　with　Condemned。　Lovely　girls；　bright　women；　brown…haired；　black…haired；　and　grey；　youths；　stalwart　men　and　old；　gentle　born　and　peasant　born；　all　red　wine　for　La　Guillotine；　all　daily　brought　into　light　from　the　dark　cellars　of　the　loathsome　prisons；　and　carried　to　her　through　the　street　to　slake　her　devouring　thirst。　Liberty；　equality；　fraternity；　or　death；……the　last；　much　the　easiest　to　bestow；　O　Guillotine！
If　the　suddenness　of　her　calamity；　and　the　whirling　wheels　of　the　time；　had　stunned　the　Doctor's　daughter　into　awaiting　the　result　in　idle　despair；　it　would　but　have　been　with　her　as　it　was　with　many。　But；　from　the　hour　when　she　had　taken　the　white　head　to　her　fresh　young　bosom　in　the　garret　of　she　had　been　true　to　her　duties。　She　was　truest　to　them　in　the　season　of　trial；　as　all　the　quietly　loyal　and　good　will　always　be。
As　soon　as　they　were　established　in　their　new　residence；　and　her　father　had　entered　on　the　routine　of　his　avocations；　she　arranged　the　little　household　as　exactly　as　if　her　husband　had　been　there。　Everything　had　its　appointed　place　and　its　appointed　time。　Little　Lucie　she　taught；　as　regularly；　as　if　they　had　all　been　united　in　their　English　home。　The　slight　devices　with　which　she　cheated　herself　into　the　show　of　a　belief　that　they　would　soon　be　reunited…the　little　preparations　for　his　speedy　return；　the　setting　aside　of　his　chair　and　his　books……these；　and　the　solemn　prayer　at　night　for　one　dear　prisoner　especially；　among　the　many　unhappy　souls　in　prison　and　the　shadow　of　death……were　almost　the　only　outspoken　reliefs　of　her　heavy　mind。
She　did　not　greatly　alter　in　appearance。　The　plain　dark　dresses；　akin　to　mourning　dresses；　which　she　and　her　child　wore；　were　as　neat　and　as　well　attended　to　as　the　brighter　clothes　of　happy　days。　She　lost　her　colour；　and　the　old　and　intent　expression　was　a　constant；　not　an　occasional；　thing；　otherwise；　she　remained　very　pretty　and　ely。　Sometimes；　at　night　on　kissing　her　father；　she　would　burst　into　the　grief　she　had　repressed　all　day；　and　would　say　that　her　sole　reliance；　under　Heaven；　was　on　him。　He　always　resolutely　answered：　‘Nothing　can　happen　to　him　without　my　knowledge；　and　I　know　that　I　can　save　him；　Lucie。'
They　had　not　made　the　round　of　their　changed　life　many　weeks；　when　her　father　said　to　her；　on　ing　home　one　evening：
‘My　dear；　there　is　an　upper　window　in　the　prison；　to　which　Charles　can　sometimes　gain　access　at　three　in　the　afternoon。　When　he　can　get　to　it…which　depends　on　many　uncertainties　and　incidents…he　might　see　you　in　the　street；　he　thinks；　if　you　stood　in　a　certain　place　that　I　can　show　you。　But　you　will　not　be　able　to　see　him；　my　poor　child；　and　even　if　you　could；　it　would　be　unsafe　for　you　to　make　a　sign　of　recognition。'
‘O　show　me　the　place；　my　father；　and　I　will　go　there　everyday。'
From　that　time；　in　all　weathers；　she　waited　there　two　hours。　As　the　clock　struck　two；　she　was　there；　and　at　four　she　turned　resignedly　away。　When　it　was　not　too　wet　or　inclement　for　her　child　to　be　with　her；　they　went　together；　at　other　times　she　was　alone；　but　she　never　missed　a　single　day。
It　was　the　dark　and　dirty　corner　of　a　small　winding　street。　The　hovel　of　a　cutter　of　wood　into　lengths　for　burning；　was　the　only　house　at　that　end；　all　else　was　wall。　On　the　third　day　of　her　being　there；　he　noticed　her。
‘Good　day；　citizeness。'
‘Good　day；　citizen。'
This　mode　of　address　was　now　prescribed　by　decree。　It　had　been　established　voluntarily　some　time　ago；　among　the　more　thorough　patriots；　but；　was　now　law　for　everybody。
‘Walking　here　again；　citizeness？'
‘You　see　me；　citizen！'
The　wood…sawyer；　who　was　a　little　man　with　a　redundancy　of　gesture　（he　had　once　been　a　mender　of　roads）；　cast　a　glance　at　the　prison；　pointed　at　the　prison；　and　putting　his　ten　fingers　before　his　face　to　represent　bars；　peeped　through　them　jocosely。
‘But　it's　not　my　business；'　said　he。　And　went　on　sawing　his　wood。
Next　day　he　was　looking　out　for　her；　and　accosted　her　the　moment　she　appeared。　
‘What？　Walking　here　again；　citizeness？'
‘Yes；　citizen。'
‘Ah！　A　child　too！　Your　mother；　is　it　not；　my　little　citizeness？'
‘Do　I　say　yes；　mamma？'　whispered　little　Lucie；　drawing　close　to　her。
‘Yes；　dearest。'
‘Yes；　citizen。'
‘Ah！　But　it's　not　my　business。　My　work　is　my　business。　See　my　saw！　I　call　it　my　Little　Guillotine。　La；　la；　la；　La；　la；　la！　And　off　his　head　es！'
The　billet　fell　as　he　spoke；　and　he　threw　it　into　a　basket。
‘I　call　myself　the　Samson　of　the　firewood　guillotine。　See　here　again！　Loo；　loo；　loo；　Loo；　loo；　loo！　And　off　her　head　es！　Now；　a　child。　Tickle；　tickle；　Pickle；　pickle！　And　off　its　head　es。　All　the　family！'
Lucie　shuddered　as　he　threw　two　more　billets　into　his　basket；　but　it　was　impossible　to　be　there　while　the　wood…sawyer　was　at　work；　and　not　be　in　his　sight。　Thenceforth；　to　secure　his　good　will；　she　always　spoke　to　him　first；　and　often　gave　him　drink…money；　which　he　readily　received。
He　was　an　inquisitive　fellow；　and　sometimes　when　she　had　quite　forgotten　him　in　gazing　at　the　prison　roof　and　grates；　and　in　lifting　her　heart　up　to　her　husband；　she　would　e　to　herself　to　find　him　looking　at　her；　with　his　knee　on　his　bench　and　his　saw　stopped　in　its　work。　‘But　it's　not　my　business！'　he　would　generally　say　at　those　times；　and　would　briskly　fall　to　his　sawing　again。
In　all　weathers；　in　the　snow　and　frost　of　winter；　in　the　bitter　winds　of　spring；　in　the　hot　sunshine　of　summer；　in　the　rains　of　autumn；　and　again　in　the　snow　and　frost　of　winter；　Lucie　passed　two　hours　of　every　day　at　this　place；　and　every　day　on　leaving　it；　she　kissed　the　prison　wall。　Her　husband　saw　her　（so　she　learned　from　her　father）　it　might　be　once　in　five　or　six　times：　it　might　be　twice　or　thrice　running：　it　might　be；　not　for　a　week　or　a　fortnight　together。　It　was　enough　that　he　could　and　did　see　her　when　the　chances　served；　and　on　that　possibility　she　would　have　waited　out　the　day；　seven　days　a　week。
These　occupations　brought　her　round　to　the　December　month；　wherein　her　father　walked　among　the　terrors　with　a　steady　head。　On　a　lightly…snowing　afternoon　she　arrived　at　the　usual　corner。　It　was　a　day　of　some　wild　rejoicing；　and　a　festival。　She　had　seen　the　houses；　as　she　came　along；　decorated　with　little　pikes；　and　with　little　red　caps　stuck　upon　them；　also；　with　tricoloured　ribbons；　also；　with　the　standard　inscription　（tricoloured　letters　were　the　favourite）；　Republic　One　and　Indivisible。　Liberty；　Equality；　Fraternity；　or　Death！
The　miserable　shop　of　the　wood…sawyer　was　so　small；　that　its　whole　surface　furnished　very　indifferent　space　for　this　legend。　He　had　got　somebody　to　scrawl　it　up　for　him；　however；　who　had　squeezed　Death　in　with　most　inappropriate　difficulty。　On　his　house…top；　he　displayed　pike　and　cap；　as　a　good　citizen　must；　and　in　a　window　he　had　stationed　his　saw　inscribed　as　his　‘Little　Sainte　Guillotine'……for　the　great　sharp　female　was　by　that　time　popularly　canonised。　His　shop　was　shut　and　he　was　not　there；　which　was　a　relief　to　Lucie；　and　left　her　quite　alone。
But；　he　was　not　far　off；　for　presently　she　heard　a　troubled　movement　and　a　shouting　ing　along；　which　filled　her　with　fear。　A　moment　afterwards；　and　a　throng　of　people　came　pouring　round　the　corner　by　the　prison　wall；　in　the　midst　of　whom　was　the　wood…sawyer　hand　in　hand　with　The　Vengeance。　There　could　not　be　fewer　than　five　hundred　people；　and　they　were　dancing　like　five　thousand　demons。　There　was　no　other　music　than　their　own　singing。　They　danced　to　the　popular　Revolution　song；　keeping　a　ferocious　time　that　was　like　a　gnashing　of　teeth　in　unison。　Men　and　women　danced　together；　women　danced　together；　men　danced　together；　as　hazard　had　brought　them　together。　At　first；　they　were　a　mere　storm　of　coarse　red　caps　and　coarse　woollen　rags；　but；　as　they　filled　the　place；　and　stopped　to　dance　about　Lucie；　some　ghastly　apparition　of　a　dance…figure　gone　raving　mad　arose　among　them。　They　advanced；　retreated；　struck　at　one　another's　hands；　clutched　at　one　another's　heads；　spun　round　alone；　caught　one　another　and　spun　round　in　pairs；　until　many　of　them　dropped。　While　those　were　down；　the　rest　linked　hand　in　hand；　and　all　spun　round　together：　then　the　ring　broke；　and　in　separate　rings　of　two　and　four　they　turned　and　turned　until　they　all　stopped　at　once；　began　again；　struck；　clutched；　and　tore；　and　then　reversed　the　spin；　and　all　spun　round　another　way。　Suddenly　they　stopped　again；　paused；　struck　out　the　time　afresh；　formed　into　lines　the　width　of　the　public　way；　and；　with　their　heads　low　down　and　their　hands　high　up；　swooped　screaming　off。　No　fig