双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第70部分

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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　e　from　her……your　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　ply　with　it……take　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　acplished；　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　prehend　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　e；　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　clouded　eyes　and　with　an　altered　manner　of　breathing；　Carton……his　hand　again　in　his　breast……looked　steadily　at　him。
‘Hurry；　hurry　！‘
The　prisoner　bent　over　the　paper；　once　more。
‘‘‘If　it　had　been　otherwise；'''　Carton's　hand　was　again　watchfully　and　softly　stealing　down；　‘‘‘I　never　should　have　used　the　longer　opportunity。　If　it　had　been　otherwise；'''　the　hand　was　at　the　prisoner's　face；　‘‘‘I　should　but　have　had　so　much　the　more　to　answer　for。　If　it　had　been　otherwise………'''　Carton　looked　at　the　pen　and　saw　it　was　trailing　off　into　unintelligible　signs。
Carton's　hand　moved　back　to　his　breast　no　more。　The　prisoner　sprang　up　with　a　reproachful　look；　but　Carton's　hand　was　close　and　firm　at　his　nostrils；　and　Carton's　left　arm　caught　him　round　the　waist。　For　a　few　seconds　he　faintly　struggled　with　the　man　who　had　e　to　lay　down　his　life　for　him；　but；　within　a　minute　or　so；　he　was　stretched　insensible　on　the　ground。
Quickly；　but　with　hands　as　true　to　the　purpose　as　his　heart　was；　Carton　dressed　himself　in　the　clothes　the　prisoner　had　laid　aside；　bed　back　his　hair；　and　tied　it　with　the　ribbon　the　prisoner　had　worn。　Then；　he　softly　called；　‘Enter　there！　e　in！'　and　the　Spy　presented　himself。
‘You　see？'　said　Carton；　looking　up；　as　he　kneeled　on　one　knee　beside　the　insensible　figure；　putting　the　paper　in　the　breast：　‘is　your　hazard　very　great？'
‘Mr。　Carton；'　the　Spy　answered；　with　a　timid　snap　of　his　fingers；　‘my　hazard　is　not　that；　in　the　thick　of　business　here；　if　you　are　true　to　the　whole　of　your　bargain。'
‘Don't　fear　me。　I　will　be　true　to　the　death。'
‘You　must　be；　Mr。　Carton；　if　the　tale　of　fifty…two　is　to　be　right。　Being　made　right　by　you　in　that　dress；　I　shall　have　no　fear。
‘Have　no　fear！　I　shall　soon　be　out　of　the　way　of　harming　you；　and　the　rest　will　soon　be　far　from　here；　please　God！　Now；　get　assistance　and　take　me　to　the　coach。'
‘You？'　said　the　Spy　nervously。
‘Him；　man；　with　whom　I　have　exchanged。　You　go　out　at　the　gate　by　which　you　brought　me　in？
‘Of　course。'
‘I　was　weak　and　faint　when　you　brought　me　in；　and　I　am　fainter　now　you　take　me　out。　The　parting　interview　has　overpowered　me。　Such　a　thing　has　happened　here；　often；　and　too　often。　Your　life　is　in　your　own　hands。　Quick！　Call　assistance！'
‘You　swear　not　to　betray　me？'　said　the　trembling　Spy；　as　he　paused　for　a　last　moment。
‘Man；　man！'　returned　Carton；　stamping　his　foot；　‘have　I　sworn　by　no　solemn　vow　already；　to　go　through　with　this；　that　you　waste　the　precious　moments　now？　Take　him　yourself　to　the　court…yard　you　know　of；　place　him　yourself　in　the　carriage；　show　him　yourself　to　Mr。　Lorry；　tell　him　yourself　to　give　him　no　restorative　but　air；　and　to　remember　my　words　of　last　night；　and　his　promise　of　last　night；　and　drive　away！'　
The　Spy　withdrew；　and　Carton　seated　himself　at　the　table；　resting　his　forehead　on　his　hands。　The　Spy　returned　immediately；　with　two　men。
‘How；　then？'　said　one　of　them；　contemplating　the　fallen　figure。　‘So　afflicted　to　find　that　his　friend　has　drawn　a　prize　in　the　lottery　of　Sainte　Guillotine？'
‘A　good　patriot；'　said　the　other；　‘could　hardly　have　been　more　afflicted　if　the　Aristocrat　had　drawn　a　blank。'
They　raised　the　unconscious　figure；　placed　it　on　a　litter　they　had　brought　to　the　door；　and　bent　to　carry　it　away。　‘The　time　is　short；　Evrémonde；'　said　the　Spy；　in　a　warning　Voice。
‘I　know　it　well；'　answered　Carton。　‘Be　careful　of　my　friend；　I　entreat　you；　and　leave　me。
‘e；　then；　my　children；'　said　Barsad。　‘Lift　him；　and　e　away！'
The　door　closed；　and　Carton　was　left　alone。　Straining　his　powers　of　listening　to　the　utmost；　he　listened　for　any　sound　that　might　denote　suspicion　or　alarm。　There　was　none。　Keys　turned；　doors　clashed；　footsteps　passed　along　distant　passages：　no　cry　was　raised；　or　hurry　made；　that　seemed　unusual。　Breathing　more　freely　in　a　little　while；　he　sat　down　at　the　table；　and　listened　again　until　the　clock　struck　Two。　Sounds　that　he　was　not　afraid　of；　for　he　divined　their　meaning；　then　began　to　be　audible。　Several　doors　were　opened　in　succession；　and　finally　his　own。　A　gaoler；　with　a　list　in　his　hand；　looked　in；　merely　saying；　‘Follow　me；　Evrémonde！'　and　he　followed　into　a　large　dark　room；　at　a　distance。　It　was　a　dark　winter　day；　and　what　with　the　shadows　within；　and　what　with　the　shadows　without；　he　could　but　dimly　discern　the　others　who　were　brought　there　to　have　their　arms　bound。　Some　were　standing；　some　seated。　Some　were　lamenting；　and　in　restless　motion；　but；　these　were　few。　The　great　majority　were　silent　and　still；　looking　fixedly　at　the　ground。
As　he　stood　by　the　wall　in　a　dim　corner；　while　some　of　the　fifty…two　were　brought　in　after　him；　one　man　stopped　in　passing；　to　embrace　him；　as　having　a　knowledge　of　him。　It　thrilled　him　with　a　great　dread　of　discovery；　but　the　man　went　on。　A　very　few　moments　after　that；　a　young　woman；　with　a　slight　girlish　form；　a　sweet　spare　face　in　which　there　was　no　vestige　of　colour；　and　large　widely　opened　patient　eyes；　rose　from　the　seat　where　he　had　observed　her　sitting；　and　came　to　speak　to　him。
‘Citizen　Evrémonde；'　she　said；　touching　him　with　her　cold　hand。　‘I　am　a　poor　little　seamstress；　who　was　with　you　in　La　Force。
He　murmured　for　answer：　‘True。　I　forget　what　you　were　accused　of？'
‘Plots。　Though　the　just　Heaven　knows　I　am　innocent　of　any。　Is　it　likely？　Who　would　think　of　plotting　with　a　poor　little　weak　creat