to me!’ Ask him, is that so.”

“It is so,” assented Defarge once more.

“Then tell Wind and Fire where to stop,” returned madame;

“but don’t tell me.”

Both her hearers derived a horrible enjoyment from the deadly

nature of her wraththe listener could feel how white she was,

without seeing herand both highly commended it. Defarge, a

weak minority, interposed a few words of the memory of the

compassionate wife of the Marquis; but only elicited from his own

wife a repetition of her last reply. “Tell the Wind and the Fire

where to stop; not me!”

Customers entered, and the group was broken up. The English

customer paid for what he had had, perplexedly counted his

change, and asked, as a stranger, to be directed towards the

National Palace. Madame Defarge took him to the door, and put

her arm on his, in pointing out the road. The English customer

was not without his reflections then, that it might be a good deed

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to seize that arm, lift it, and strike under it sharp and deep.

But, he went his way, and was soon swallowed up in the

shadow of the prison wall. At the appointed hour, he emerged

from it to present himself in Mr. Lorry’s room again, where he

found the old gentleman walking to and fro in restless anxiety. He

said he had been with Lucie until just now, and had only left her

for a few minutes, to come and keep his appointment. Her father

had not been seen, since he quitted the banking-house towards

four o’clock. She had some faint hopes that his mediation might

save Charles, but they were very slight. He had been more than

five hours gone: where could he be?

Mr. Lorry waited until ten; but, Doctor Manette not returning,

and he being unwilling to leave Lucie any longer, it was arranged

that he should go back to her, and come to the banking-house

again at midnight. In the meanwhile, Carton would wait alone by

the fire for the Doctor.

He waited and waited, and the clock struck twelve; but Doctor

Manette did not come back. Mr. Lorry returned, and found no

tidings of him, and brought none. Where could he be?

They were discussing this question, and were almost building

up some weak structure of hope on his prolonged absence, when

they heard him on the stairs. The instant he entered the room, it

was plain that all was lost.

Whether he had really been to any one, or whether he had been

all that time traversing the streets, was never known. As he stood

staring at them, they asked him no questions, for his face told

them everything.

“I cannot find it,” said he, “and I must have it. Where is it?”

His head and throat were bare, and, as he spoke with a helpless

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look straying all around, he took his coat off, and let it drop on the

floor.