“In a word,” Madame Defarge went on, “my husband has not

my reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not

his reason for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act

for myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.”

The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in

the submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red

cap.

“Touching those signals, little citizen,” said Madame Defarge,

sternly, “that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear

witness to them this very day?”

“Ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “Every day, in all weathers,

from two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one,

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474

sometimes without. I know what I know. I have seen with my

eyes.”

He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in

incidental imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals

that he had never seen.

“Clearly plots,” said Jacques Three. “Transparently!”

“There is no doubt of the Jury?” inquired Madame Defarge,

letting her eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.

“Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my

fellow-Jurymen.”

“Now, let me see,” said Madame Defarge, pondering again. “Yet

once more! Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no

feeling either way. Can I spare him?”

“He would count as one dead,” observed Jacques Three, in a

low voice. “We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, I

think.”

“He was signalling with her when I saw her,” argued Madame

Defarge; “I cannot speak of one without the other; and I must not

be silent, and trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here.

For I am not a bad witness.”

The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their

fervent protestations that she was the most admirable and

marvellous of witnesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone,

declared her to be a celestial witness.

“He must take his chance,” said Madame Defarge. “No, I

cannot spare him! You are engaged at three o’clock; you are going

to see the batch of today executed.You?”

The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer. who hurriedly

replied in the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

the most ardent of Republicans, and that he would be in effect the

most desolate of Republicans, if anything prevented him from

enjoying the pleasure of smoking his afternoon pipe in the

contemplation of the droll national barber. He was so very

demonstrative herein, that he might have been suspected (perhaps

was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at him out of