passionate readiness to sacrifice it.

As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a centre point, so, all this

raging circled round Defarge’s wine-shop, and every human drop

in the caldron had a tendency to be sucked towards the vortex

where Defarge himself, already begrimed with gunpowder and

sweat, issued orders, issued arms, thrust this man back, dragged

this man forward, disarmed one to arm another, laboured and

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strove in the thickest of the uproar.

“Keep near to me, Jacques Three,” cried Defarge; “and do you,

Jacques One and Two, separate and put yourselves at the head of

as many of these patriots as you can. Where is my wife?”

“Eh, well! Here you see me!” said madame, composed as ever,

but not knitting today. Madame’s resolute right hand was

occupied with an axe, in place of the usual softer implements, and

in her girdle were a pistol and a cruel knife.

“Where do you go, my wife?”

“I go,” said madame, “with you at present. You shall see me at

the head of women, by-and-by.”

“Come then!” cried Defarge, in a resounding voice. “Patriots

and friends, we are ready! The Bastille!”

With a roar that sounded as if all the breath in France had been

shaped into the detested word, the living sea rose, wave on wave,

depth on depth, and overflowed the city to that point. Alarm-bells

ringing, drums beating, the sea raging and thundering on its new

beach, the attack begun.

Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight

great towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. Through the fire

and through the smokein the fire and in the smoke, for the sea

cast him up and against a cannon, and on the instant he became a

cannonierDefarge of the wine-shop worked like a manful

soldier, two fierce hours.

Deep ditch, single drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great

towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. One drawbridge down!

“Work, comrades all, work! Work, Jacques One, Jacques Two,

Jacques One Thousand, Jacques Two Thousand, Jacques Fiveand

Twenty Thousand; in the name of all the Angels or the

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Devilswhich you preferwork!” Thus Defarge of the wine-shop,

still at his gun, which had long grown hot.

“To me, women!” cried madame his wife, “What! We can kill as

well as the men when the place is taken!” And to her, with a shrill

thirsty cry, trooping women variously armed, but all armed alike

in hunger and revenge.

Cannon, muskets, fire and smoke; but still the deep ditch, the

single drawbridge, the massive stone walls, and the eight great

towers. Slight displacements of the raging sea, made by the falling

wounded. Flashing weapons, blazing torches, smoking waggonloads

of wet straw, hard work at neighbouring barricades in all

directions, shrieks, volleys, execrations, bravery without stint,