“I have no hope,” said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful

whisper.

“Nor have I.”

“If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to

spare himwhich is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any

man’s to them!I doubt if they durst spare him after the

demonstration in the court.”

“And so do I. I heard the fall of the axe in that sound.”

Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post and bowed his

face upon it.

“Don’t despond,” said Carton, very gently; “don’t grieve. I

encouraged Doctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it

might one day be consolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think

‘his life was wantonly thrown away or wasted,’ and that might

trouble her.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, “you are

right. But he will perish; there is no real hope.”

“Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope,” echoed Carton. And

he walked with a settled step, down-stairs.

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Chapter XLII

DARKNESS

S

ydney Carton paused in the street, not quite decided where

to go. “At Tellson’s banking-house at nine,” he said, with a

musing face. “Shall I do well, in the meantime, to show

myself? I think so. It is best that these people should know there is

such a man as I here; it is a sound precaution, and may be a

necessary preparation. But care, care, care! Let me think it out!”

Checking his steps which had begun to tend towards an object,

he took a turn or two in the already darkening street, and traced

the thought in his mind to its possible consequences. His first

impression was confirmed. “It is best,” he said, finally resolved,

“that these people should know there is such a man as I here.”

And he turned his face towards Saint Antoine.

Defarge had described himself, that day, as the keeper of a

wine-shop in the Saint Antoine suburb. It was not difficult for one

who knew the city well, to find his house without asking any

question. Having ascertained its situation, Carton came out of

those closer streets again, and dined at a place of refreshment and

fell sound asleep after dinner. For the first time in many years, he

had no strong drink. Since last night he had taken nothing but a

little light thin wine, and last night he had dropped the brandy

slowly down on Mr. Lorry’s hearth like a man who had done with

it.

It was as late as seven o’clock when he awoke refreshed, and

went out into the streets again. As he passed along towards Saint

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Antoine, he stopped at a shop-window where there was a mirror,

and slightly altered the disordered arrangement of his loose