that bad aims were being worked out in his own unhappy land by

bad instruments, and that he who could not fail to know that he

was better than they, was not there, trying to do something to stay

bloodshed, and assert the claims of mercy and humanity. With this

uneasiness half stifled, and half reproaching him, he had been

brought to the pointed comparison of himself with the brave old

gentleman in whom duty was so strong; upon that comparison

(injurious to himself) had instantly followed the sneers of

Monseigneur, which had stung him bitterly, and those of Stryver,

which above all were coarse and galling, for old reasons. Upon

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

those, had followed Gabelle’s letter: the appeal of an innocent

prisoner, in danger of death, to his justice, honour, and good

name.

His resolution was made. He must go to Paris.

Yes. The Loadstone Rock was drawing him, and he must sail

on, until he struck. He knew of no rock; he saw hardly any danger.

The intention with which he had done what he had done, even

although he had left it incomplete, presented it before him in an

aspect that would be gratefully acknowledged in France on his

presenting himself to assert it. Then, that glorious vision of doing

good, which is so often the sanguine mirage of so many good

minds, arose before him, and he even saw himself in the illusion

with some influence to guide this raging Revolution that was

running so fearfully wild.

As he walked to and fro with his resolution made, he considered

that neither Lucie nor her father must know of it until he was

gone. Lucie should be spared the pain of separation; and her

father, always reluctant to turn his thoughts toward the dangerous

ground of old, should come to the knowledge of the step, as a step

taken, and not in the balance of suspense and doubt. How much of

the incompleteness of his situation was referable to her father,

through the painful anxiety to avoid reviving old associations of

France in his mind, he did not discuss with himself. But, that

circumstance, too, had had its influence in his course.

He walked to and fro, with thoughts very busy, until it was time

to return to Tellson’s and take leave of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he

arrived in Paris he would present himself to this old friend, but he

must say nothing of his intention now.

A carriage with post-horses was ready at the Bank door, and

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Jerry was booted and equipped.

“I have delivered that letter,” said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry.

“I would not consent to your being charged with any written

answer, but perhaps you will take a verbal one?”

“That I will, and readily,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it is not

dangerous.”

“Not at all. Though it is to a prisoner in the Abbaye.”

“What is his name?” said Mr. Lorry, with his open pocketbook

in his hand.