When this interchange of christian name was effected, Madame

Defarge, picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another

grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another

line.

“It is not often,” said the second of the three, addressing

Monsieur Defarge, “that many of these miserable beasts know the

taste of wine, or of anything but black bread and death. Is it not so,

Jacques?”

“It is so, Jacques,” Monsieur Defarge returned. At this second

interchange of the christian name, Madame Defarge, still using

her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of

cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.

The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty

drinking vessel and smacked his lips.

“Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle

always have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am

I right, Jacques?”

“You are right, Jacques,” was the response of Monsieur

Defarge.

This third interchange of the christian name was completed at

the moment when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her

eyebrows up, and slightly rustled in her seat.

“Hold then! True!” muttered her husband. “Gentlemenmy

wife!”

The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge,

with three flourishes. She acknowledged their homage by bending

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

her head, and giving them a quick look. Then she glanced in a

casual manner round the wine-shop, took up her knitting with

great apparent calmness and repose of spirit and became

absorbed in it.

“Gentlemen,” said her husband, who had kept his bright eye

observantly upon her, “good day. The chamber, furnished

bachelor-fashion, that you wished to see, and were inquiring for

when I stepped out, is on the fifth floor. The doorway of the

staircase gives on the little courtyard close to the left here,”

pointing with his hand, “near to the window of my establishment.

But, now that I remember, one of you has already been there, and

can show the way. Gentlemen, adieu!”

They paid for their wine and left the place. The eyes of

Monsieur Defarge were studying his wife at her knitting when the

elderly gentleman advanced from his corner, and begged the

favour of a word.

“Willingly, sir,” said Monsieur Defarge, and quietly stepped

with him to the door.

Their conference was very short, but very decided. Almost at

the first word, Monsieur Defarge started and became deeply

attentive. It had not lasted a minute, when he nodded and went

out. The gentleman then beckoned to the young lady, and they,

too, went out. Madame Defarge knitted with nimble fingers and