双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第7部分

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en　had　ancient　faces　and　grave　voices；　and　upon　them；　and　upon　the　grown　faces；　and　ploughed　into　every　furrow　of　age　and　ing　up　afresh；　was　the　sign；　Hunger。　It　was　prevalent　everywhere。　Hunger　was　pushed　out　of　the　tall　houses；　in　the　wretched　clothing　that　hung　upon　poles　and　lines；　Hunger　was　patched　into　them　with　straw　and　rag　and　wood　and　paper；　Hunger　was　repeated　in　every　fragment　of　the　small　modicum　of　firewood　that　the　man　sawed　off；　Hunger　stared　down　from　the　smokeless　chimneys；　and　started　up　from　the　filthy　street　that　had　no　offal；　among　its　refuse；　of　anything　to　eat。　Hunger　was　the　inscription　on　the　baker's　shelves；　written　in　every　small　loaf　of　his　Scanty　stock　of　bad　bread；　at　the　sausage…shop；　in　every　dead…dog　preparation　that　was　offered　for　sale。　Hunger　rattled　its　dry　bones　among　the　roasting　chestnuts　in　the　turned　cylinder；　Hunger　was　shred　into　atomies　in　every　farthing　porringer　of　husky　chips　of　potato；　fried　with　some　reluctant　drops　of　oil。
Its　abiding　place　was　in　all　things　fitted　to　it。　A　narrow　winding　street；　full　of　offence　and　stench；　with　other　narrow　winding　streets　diverging；　all　peopled　by　rags　and　nightcaps；　and　all　smelling　of　rags　and　nightcaps；　and　all　visible　things　with　a　brooding　look　upon　them　that　looked　ill。　In　the　hunted　air　of　the　people　there　was　yet　some　wild…beast　thought　of　the　possibility　of　turning　at　bay。　Depressed　and　slinking　though　they　were；　eyes　of　fire　were　not　wanting　among　them；　nor　pressed　lips；　white　with　what　they　suppressed；　nor　foreheads　knitted　into　the　likeness　of　the　gallows…rope　they　mused　about　enduring；　or　inflicting。　The　trade　signs　（and　they　were　almost　as　many　as　the　shops）　were；　all；　grim　illustrations　of　Want。　The　butcher　and　the　porkman　painted　up；　only　the　leanest　scrags　of　meat；　the　baker；　the　coarsest　of　meagre　loaves。　The　people　rudely　pictured　as　drinking　in　the　wine…shops；　croaked　over　their　scanty　measures　of　thin　wine　and　beer；　and　were　gloweringly　confidential　together。　Nothing　was　represented　in　a　flourishing　condition；　save　tools　and　weapons；　but；　the　cutler's　knives　and　axes　were　sharp　and　bright；　the　smith's　hammers…were　heavy；　and　the　gunmaker's　stock　was　murderous。　The　crippling　stones　of　the　pavement；　with　their　many　little　reservoirs　of　mud　and　water；　had　no　footways；　but　broke　off　abruptly　at　the　doors。　The　kennel；　to　make　amends；　ran　down　the　middle　of　the　street……when　it　ran　at　all：　which　was　only　after　heavy　rains；　and　then　it　ran；　by　many　eccentric　fits；　into　the　houses。　Across　the　streets；　at　wide　intervals；　one　clumsy　lamp　was　slung　by　a　rope　and　pulley；　at　night；　when　the　lamplighter　had　let　these　down；　and　lighted；　and　hoisted　them　again；　a　feeble　grove　of　dim　wicks　swung　in　a　sickly　manner　overhead；　as　if　they　were　at　sea。　Indeed　they　were　at　sea；　and　the　ship　and　crew　were　in　peril　of　tempest。
For；　the　time　was　to　e；　when　the　gaunt　scarecrows　of　that　region　should　have　watched　the　lamplighter；　in　their　idleness　and　hunger；　so　long；　as　to　conceive　the　idea　of　improving　on　his　method；　and　hauling　up　men　by　those　ropes　and　pulleys；　to　flare　upon　the　darkness　of　their　condition。　But；　the　time　was　not　e　yet；　and　every　wind　that　blew　over　France　shook　the　rags　of　the　scarecrows　in　vain；　for　the　birds；　fine　of　song　and　feather；　took　no　warning。
The　wine…shop　was　a　er　shop；　better　than　most　other'　in　its　appearance　and　degree；　and　the　master　of　the　wine　shop　had　stood　outside　it；　in　a　yellow　waistcoat　and　green　breeches；　looking　on　at　the　struggle　for　the　lost　wine。　‘It''　not　my　affair；'　said　he；　with　a　final　shrug　of　the　shoulders；　‘The　people　from　the　market　did　it。　Let　them　bring　another。
There；　his　eyes　happening　to　catch　the　tall　joker　writing　up　his　joke；　he　called　to　him　across　the　way：
‘Say；　then；　my　Gaspard；　what　do　you　do　there？'
The　fellow　pointed　to　his　joke　with　immense　significance　as　is　often　the　way　with　his　tribe。　It　missed　its　mark；　and　pletely　failed；　as　is　often　the　way　with　his　tribe　too。
‘What　now？　Are　you　a　subject　for　the　mad　hospital？'　said　the　wine…shop　keeper；　crossing　the　road；　and　obliterating　the　jest　with　a　handful　of　mud；　picked　up　for　the　purpose　and　smeared　over　it。　‘Why　do　you　write　in　the　public　streets？　Is　there……tell　me　thou……is　there　no　other　place　to　write　such　words　in？'
In　his　expostulation　he　dropped　his　cleaner　hand　（perhaps　accidentally；　perhaps　not）　upon　the　joker's　heart。　The　joke　rapped　it　with　his　own；　took　a　nimble　spring　upward；　and　came　down　in　a　fantastic　dancing　attitude；　with　one　of　his　stained　shoes　jerked　off　his　foot　into　his　hand；　and　held　out　A　joker　of　an　extremely；　not　to　say　wolfishly　practical　character；　he　looked；　under　those　circumstances。
‘Put　it　on；　put　it　on；'　said　the　other。　‘Call　wine；　wine　and　finish　there。'　With　that　advice；　he　wiped　his　soiled　hand　upon　the　joker's　dress；　such　as　it　was……quite　deliberately；　as　having　dirtied　the　hand　on　his　account；　and　then　re…crossed　the　road　and　entered　the　wine…shop。
This　wine…shop　keeper　was　a　bull…necked'；　martial…looking　man　of　thirty；　and　he　should　have　bean　of　a　hot　temperament；　for；　although　it　was　a　bitter　day；　he　wore　no　coat；　but　carried　one　slung　over　his　shoulder。　His　shirt…sleeves　were　rolled　up；　too；　and　his　brown　arms　were　bare　to　the　elbows。　Neither　did　he　wear　anything　more　on　his　head　than　his　own　crisply…curling　short　dark　hair。　He　was　a　dark　man　altogether；　with　good　eyes　and　a　good　bold　breadth　between　them。　Good…humoured　looking　on　the　whole；　but　implacable…looking；　too；　evidently　a　man　of　a　strong　resolution　and　a　set　purpose；　a　man　not　desirable　to　be　met；　rushing　down　a　narrow　pass　with　a　gulf　on　either　side；　for　nothing　would　turn　the　man。
Madame　Defarge；　his　wife；　sat　in　the　shop　behind　the　counter　as　he　came　in。　Madame　Defarge　was　a　stout　woman　of　about　his　own　age；　with　a　watchful　eye　that　seldom　seemed　to　look　at　anything；　a　large　hand　heavily　ringed；　a　steady　face；　strong　features；　and　great　posure　of　manner。　There　was　a　character　about　Madame　Defarge；　from　which　one　might　have　predicated　that　she　did　not　often　make　mistakes　against　herself　in　any　of　the　reckonings　over　which　she　presided。　Madame　Defarge　being　sensitive　to　cold；　was　wrapped　in　fur；　and　had　a　quantity　of　bright　shawl　twined　about　her　head；　though　not　to　the　concealment　of　her　large　earrings。　Her　knitting　was　before　her；　but　she　had　laid　it　down　to　pick　her　teeth　with　a　toothpick。　Thus　engaged；　with　her　right　elbow　supported　by　her　left　hand；　Madame　Defarge　said　nothing　when　her　lord　came　in；　but　coughed　Just　one　grain　of　cough。　This；　in　bination　with　the　lifting　of　her　darkly　defined　eyebrows　over　her　toothpick　by　the　breadth　of　a　line；　suggested　to　her　husband　that　he　would　do　well　to　look　round　the　shop　among　the　customers；　for　any　new　customer　who　had　dropped　in　while　he　stepped　over　the　way。
The　wine…shop　keeper　accordingly　rolled　his　eyes　about；　until　they　rested　upon　an　elderly　gentleman　and　a　young　lady；　who　were　seated　in　a　corner。　Other　pany　were　there：　two　playing　cards；　two　playing　dominoes；　three　standing　by　the　counter　lengthening　out　a　short　supply　of　wine。　As　he　passed　behind　the　counter；　he　took　notice　that　the　elderly　gentleman　said　in　a　look　to　the　young　lady　‘This　is　our　man。
‘What　the　devil　do　you　do　in　that　galley　there？'　said　Monsieur　Defarge　to　himself；　‘I　don't　know　you。'
But；　he　feigned　not　to　notice　the　two　strangers；　and　fell　into　discourse　with　the　triumvirate　of　customers　who　were　drinking　at　the　counter。
‘How　goes　it；　Jacques？'　said　one　of　these　three　to　Monsieur　Defarge。　‘Is　all　the　spilt　wine　swallowed？'
‘Every　drop；　Jacques；'　answered　Monsieur　Defarge。
When　this　interchange　of　christian　name　was　effected。　Madame　Defarge；　picking　her　teeth　with　her　toothpick　coughed　another　grain　of　cough；　and　raised　her　eyebrows　by　the　breadth　of　another　line。
‘It　is　not　often；'　said　the　second　of　the　three；　addressing　Monsieur　Defarge；　‘that　many　of　these　miserable　beasts　know　the　taste　of　wine；　or　of　anything　but　black　bread　and　death。　Is　it　not　so；　Jacques？'
‘It　is　so；　Jacques；'　Monsieur　Defarge　returned。
At　this　second　interchange　of　the　christian　name；　Madame　Defarge；　still　using　her　toothpick　with　profound　posure；　coughed　another　grain　of　cough；　and　raised　her　eyebrows　by　the　breadth　of　another　line。
The　last　of　the　three　now　said　his　say；　as　he　put　down　his　empty　drinking　vessel　and　smacked　his　lips。
‘Ah！　So　much　the　worse！　A　bitter　taste　it　is　that　such　poor　cattle　always　have　in　their　mouths；　and　hard　lives　they　live；　Jacques。　Am　I　right；　Jacques？'
‘You　are　right；　Jacques；'　was　the　response　of　Monsieur　Defarge。
This　third　interchange　of　the　christian　name　was　pleted　at　the　moment　when　Madame　Defarge　put　her　toothpick　by；　kept　her　eyebrows　up；　and　slightly　rustled　in　her　seat。
‘Hold　then！　True！'　muttered　her　husband。　‘Gentlemen……my　wife！'
The　three　customers　pulled　off　their　hats　to　Madame　Defarge；　with　three　flourishes。　She　acknowledged　their　homage　by　bending　her　head；　and　giving　them　a　quick　look。　Then　she　glanced　in　a　casual　manner　round　the　wine…shop；　took　up　her　knitting　with　great　apparent　calmness　and　repose　of　spirit；　and　became　absorbed　in　it。
‘Gentlemen；'　said　her　husband；　who　had　kept　his　bright　eye　observantly　upon　her；　‘good　day。　The　chamber；　furnished　bachelor…fashion；　that　you　wished　to　see；　and　‘were　inquiring　for　when　I　stepped　out；　is　on　the　fifth　floor。　The　doorway　of　the　staircase　gives　on　the　little　court…yard　close　to　the　left　here；'　pointing　with　his　hand；　‘near　to　the　window　of　my　establishment。　But；　now　that　I　remember；　one　of　you　has　already　been　there；　and　can　show　the　way。　Gentlemen；　adieu！
They　paid　for　their　wine；　and　left　the　place。　The　eyes　of　Monsieur　Defarge　were　studying　his　wife　at　her　knitting　when　the　elderly　gentleman　advanced　from　his　corner；　and　begged　the　favour　of　a　word。
‘Willingly；　sir；'　said　Monsieur　Defarge；　and　quietly　stepped　with　him　to　the　door。
Their　conference　was　very　short；　but　very　decided。　Almost　at　the　first　word；　Monsieur　Defarge　started　and　became　deeply　attentive。　It　had　not　lasted　a　minute；　when　he　nodded　and　went　out。　The　gentleman　then　beckoned　to　the　young　lady；　and　they；　too；　went　out。　Madame　Defarge　knitted　with　nimble　fingers　and　steady　eyebrows；　and　saw　nothing。
Mr。　Jarvis　Lorry　and　Miss　Manette；　emerging　f