came along, which stirred and flickered in flames of faces at most

doors and windows. Yet, no one had followed them, and no man

spoke when they entered the wine-shop, though the eyes of every

man there were turned upon them.

“Good day, gentlemen!” said Monsieur Defarge.

It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue. It

elicited an answering chorus of “Good day!”

“It is bad weather, gentlemen,” said Defarge, shaking his head.

Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and then all

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cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up

and went out.

“My wife,” said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: “I

have travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads,

called Jacques. I met himby accidenta day and a half’s journey

out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender of roads, called

Jacques. Give him to drink, my wife!”

A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine

before the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue

cap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse he

carried some coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles, and

sat munching and drinking near Madame Defarge’s counter. A

third man got up and went out.

Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of winebut, he took

less than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to

whom it was no rarityand stood waiting until the countryman

had made his breakfast. He looked at no one present, and no one

now looked at him; not even Madame Defarge, who had taken up

her knitting, and was at work.

“Have you finished your repast, friend?” he asked, in due

season.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you

could occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.”

Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a

courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the

staircase into a garretformerly the garret where a white-haired

man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making

shoes.

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No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were

there who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between

them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link,

that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wall.

Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued

voice:

“Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness

encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell

you all. Speak, Jacques Five!”

The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy