The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left

it. He and his books were in frequent requisition as to property

confiscated and made national. What he could save for the owners,

he saved. No better man living to hold fast by what Tellson’s had

in keeping, and to hold his peace.

A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine,

denoted the approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they

arrived at the Bank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was

altogether blighted and deserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes

in the court, ran the letters: National Property. Republic One and

Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!

Who could that be with Mr. Lorrythe owner of the riding-coat

upon the chairwho must not be seen? From whom newly

arrived, did he come out, agitated and surprised, to take his

favourite in his arms? To whom did he appear to repeat her

faltering words, when, raising his voice and turning his head

towards the door of the room from which he had issued, he said:

“Removed to the Conciergerie, and summoned for tomorrow?”

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Chapter XXXVI

TRIUMPH

T

he dread Tribunal of five Judges, Public Prosecutor, and

determined Jury, sat every day. Their lists went forth

every evening, and were read out by the gaolers of the

various prisons to their prisoners. The standard gaoler-joke was

“Come out and listen to the Evening Paper, you inside there!”

“Charles Evremonde, called Darnay!”

So at last began the Evening Paper at La Force.

When a name was called, its owner stepped apart into a spot

reserved for those who were announced as being thus fatally

recorded. Charles Evremonde, called Darnay, had reason to know

the usage; he had seen hundreds pass away so.

His bloated gaoler, who wore spectacles to read with, glanced

over them to assure himself that he had taken his place, and went

through the list, making a similar short pause at each name. There

were twenty-three names, but only twenty were responded to; for

one of the prisoners so summoned had died in gaol and been

forgotten, and two had already been guillotined and forgotten. The

list was read, in the vaulted chamber where Darnay had seen the

associated prisoners on the night of his arrival. Every one of those

had perished in the massacre; every human creature he had since

cared for and parted with, had died on the scaffold.

There were hurried words of farewell and kindness, but the

parting was soon over. It was the incident of every day, and the

society of La Force were engaged in the preparation of some

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

games of forfeits and a little concert, for that evening. They

crowded to the grates and shed tears there; but, twenty places in

the projected entertainments had to be refilled, and the time was,