“That’s a fair young lady to be pitied by and wept for by! How

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does it feel? Is it worth being tried for one’s life, to be the object of

such sympathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?”

Again Darnay answered not a word.

“She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it

to her. Not that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she

was.”

The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this

disagreeable companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in

the strait of the day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and

thanked him for it.

“I neither want any thanks, nor merit any,” was the careless

rejoinder. “It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don’t know

why I did it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question.”

“Willingly, and a small return for your good offices.”

“Do you think I particularly like you?”

“Really, Mr. Carton,” returned the other, oddly disconcerted, “I

have not asked myself the question.”

“But ask yourself the question now.”

“You have acted as if you do; but I don’t think you do.”

“I don’t think I do,” said Carton. “I begin to have a very good

opinion of your understanding.”

“Nevertheless,” pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, “there

is nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and

our parting without ill-blood on either side.”

Carton rejoining, “Nothing in life!” Darnay rang. “Do you call

the whole reckoning?” said Carton. On his answering in the

affirmative, “Then bring me another pint of this same wine,

drawer, and come and wake me at ten.”

The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good

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night. Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with

something of a threat of defiance in his manner, and said: “A last

word, Mr. Darnay: you think I am drunk?”

“I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton.”

“Think? You know I have been drinking.”

“Since I must say so, I know it.”

“Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed

drudge, sir. I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares

for me.”

“Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents

better.”

“May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don’t let your sober face

elate you, however; you don’t know what it may come to. Good

night!”

When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle,

went to a glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself

minutely in it.

“Do you particularly like the man?” he muttered, at his own