Sounds that he was not afraid of , for he divined their meaning,

then began to be audible. Several doors were opened in

succession, and finally his own. A gaoler, with a list in his hand,

looked in, merely saying, “Follow me, Evremonde!” and he

followed him into a large dark room, at a distance. It was a dark

winter day, and what with the shadows within, and what with the

shadows without, he could but dimly discern the others who were

brought there to have their arms bound. Some were standing;

some seated. Some were lamenting, and in restless motion; but,

these were few. The great majority were silent and still, looking

fixedly at the ground.

As he stood by the wall in a dim corner, while some of the fiftytwo

were brought in after him, one man stopped in passing, to

embrace him, as having a knowledge of him. It thrilled him with a

great dread of discovery; but the man went on. A very few

moments after that, a young woman, with a slight girlish form, a

sweet spare face in which there was no vestige of colour, and large

widely opened patient eyes, rose from the seat where he had

observed her sitting, and came to speak to him.

“Citizen Evremonde,” she said, touching him with her cold

hand. “I am a poor little seamstress, who was with you in La

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Force.”

He murmured for answer: “True. I forget what you were

accused of ?”

“Plots. Though the just Heaven knows I am innocent of any. Is

it likely? Who would think of plotting with a poor little weak

creature like me?”

The forlorn smile with which she said it, so touched him, that

tears started from his eyes.

“I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evremonde, but I have done

nothing. I am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so

much good to us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know

how that can be, Citizen Evremonde. Such a poor weak little

creature!”

As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften

to, it warmed and softened to this pitiable girl.

“I heard you were released, Citizen Evremonde. I hoped it was

true?”

“It was. But, I was again taken and condemned.”

“If I may ride with you, Citizen Evremonde, will you let me hold

your hand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will

give me more courage.”

As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden

doubt in them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn

hunger-worn young fingers, and touched his lips.

“Are you dying for him?” she whispered.

“And his wife and child. Hush! Yes.”

“O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?”

“Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last.”