Chapter 6 Chapter 4 Preparation

The mail arrived in Dover in no trouble in the morning.The clerk of the King George's Inn opened the door of the mail-coach, as was his custom, with a touch of ceremonial ostentation, for it was a feat to be congratulated on the adventurous traveler to arrive here by mail from London in winter. Achievement. At this time there was only one adventurous traveler worthy of congratulations, and the other two had already disembarked at their destination on the way.The moldy compartment of the mail car was full of damp, dirty hay, foul smelling, and dimly lit, like a doghouse; and Mr. Lorry, a traveler who got out of the car on chain-like hay, He was also trembling, with a bloated and ragged body, muddy legs, and a drooping hat brim. He looked a bit like a big dog.

"Is there a steamer for Calais to-morrow, accountant?" "Yes, sir, if the weather remains the same and the wind is favorable. The tide comes together about two o'clock in the afternoon, and sailing is easy, sir. Want a berth, sir?" "I don't sleep until night, but I still want a room and a barber." "Then, shall we have breakfast, sir? Yes, sir, follow your instructions. Take this gentleman to Xiehexuan! Send the gentleman's box and hot water. Take off the boots for the gentleman when you enter the house." --There is a comfortable peat fire inside. There is also a hairdresser. They all go to Xiehexuan to do business."

Xiehexuan guest rooms are always arranged for mail passengers, and mail passengers are usually fully wrapped up.Therefore, there is an interesting phenomenon in the Xiehexuan of the King George Hotel: they all look the same when they enter the room, but they are very different when they go out.So another accountant, two doorkeepers, several maids and the proprietress all stayed on the passage between Xiehexuan and the coffee shop as if by chance, and did not go there for a long time.Soon a gentleman of about sixty came out to have breakfast.This person was wearing a brown dress that was worn in and out of society. The dress had large square cuffs and a huge pouch flap. It was rather old, but it was well washed and ironed.

There was no one else in the coffee-room that morning except the gentleman in the brown coat.His table had been pulled up in front of the fireplace, and as he sat waiting for breakfast, the fire shone on him, and he remained motionless, as if he were being painted. He looked very neat, very prim.Hands on knees, a pocket watch in the covered vest pocket ticked loudly and preached loudly, as if to contrast its gravity and longevity with the frivolity and evanescence of the joyful flame.The man had handsome legs, and was somewhat proud of them, for his good brown stockings were tightly wrapped and gleaming, and his shoes and their buckles were fine, if not fancy.He wore a little flaxen wig of a unique style, curly and shiny, tightly buttoned on his head.It is said to be made of hair, but it looks more like it is spun from real silk or glass.His shirt, though not as fine as his stockings, was as white as the top of a wave lapping on a nearby beach, or the white sails glinting in the sun on a distant sea.That face was habitually tense, showing no expression at all.But those shiny eyes shone brightly under the wonderful wig.It seemed that the man had been well trained for Tellson's Bank's well-meaning, stoic countenance.There was a healthy flush on his cheeks, and although there were wrinkles on his cheeks, there were not many traces of worry.This is probably because the single clerks of Tellson Bank who handle secret business are mainly busy with other people's worries, and the worries that change hands are like clothes that change hands, it comes cheap and goes easily!

Mr. Lorry seemed to have fallen asleep at the end of his portrait, and was awakened by the breakfast.He pulled the chair closer to the dining table and said to the accountant: "Please arrange for a lady's board and lodging. She may arrive any time today. She may come to inquire about Jarvis Lorry, or she may only inquire about Tellson's Bank. Please let me know then." "Yes, sir. Tellson's in London, sir?" "yes." "Yes, sir. We have often had the honor of receiving staff of your bank when they are on business between London and Paris, sir. Tellson's has quite a number of business travelers."

"That's right. We're an English bank, but we have quite a French element." "Yes, sir. I don't think you travel much in person, sir?" "There hasn't been much business travel in recent years. It's been fifteen years since we—I—have been back from France." "Really, sir? I wasn't here then, sir. That was before our lot, sir. The King George Hotel was in other hands then, sir." "I believe so." "But I'd take a fair bet, sir, that a business like Tellson's would have been thriving fifty years ago, let alone fifteen years ago?"

"You can triple it, say it was a hundred and fifty years ago, and it's about the same." "Really, sir!" The waiter opened his mouth wide, stared wide-eyed, took a few steps back from the table, turned the napkin from his right arm to his left arm, and then stood leisurely, as if standing on an observatory or a watchtower, watching It is a habit passed down from generation to generation by waiters for the guests to eat and drink. After breakfast Mr. Lorry went for a walk on the beach.The small town of Dover is narrow and curved, like an ostrich on the sea that plunged into the chalky cliffs in order to escape the beach.The beach is a remnant of the sea's frenzied struggle with stone.The sea had done what it wanted to do, and all it wanted to do was destroy.It has ravaged cities, it has assailed crags, and it has devastated coasts.There is a strong fishy smell wafting through the houses, making people think that sick fish come here to bathe in fresh water, just like sick people go to sea to bathe in seawater.There are a small number of fishing boats in the harbor, and many people walk at night, looking at the sea view, and there are more tourists when the tide is gradually rising and is about to fill up.This sometimes makes some peddlers who do not do business inexplicably rich, but it is strange that no one around here is willing to bear the cost of a lamplighter.

It was mid-afternoon, sometimes clear enough to see the French coast, and the air was again clouded with mist and mist.Mr. Lorry's mind, too, seemed clouded.When at dusk he sat before the fireplace in the coffee-room, waiting for supper as he waited for breakfast in the morning, he dug, dug, dug, dug in the glowing coals again in a hurry. A bottle of good claret after dinner will do nothing to hinder a man digging in red coals, except that he may be unable to dig.Mr. Lorry had been at his leisure for a long time, and had just poured his last glass with a contented expression.The elderly gentleman, radiant with a full bottle of wine, looked utterly content.At this time, there was the sound of rattling wheels on the narrow street, and then the sound of rumbling cars rang into the yard.

He put down the glass of wine that was not yet on his lips. "Miss is here!" he said. In a few moments the waiter came in to report that Miss Manette had arrived from London, and would be pleased to see Mr. Tellson's Bank. "So fast?" Miss Manette, having had her refreshment on the way, had no desire for anything more, but was very anxious to see Mr. Tellson's Bank, if he would be willing and convenient. The Mr. Tellson's Bank had no choice but to down his last glass of wine with a numb and desperate expression, straighten his strange little light yellow wig around his ears, and followed the waiter to Miss Manette's room.It was a big, gloomy room, furnished like a funeral with black horsehair furniture and a heavy black table.Several tables had been painted multiple times.The two tall candles placed on the table in the middle of the big room can only be vaguely reflected on each table, as if they were buried in the depths of the black mahogany grave. If you don't dig it, you can't expect them to shine. Come.

The darkness was so impenetrable that Mr. Lorry thought for a moment that Miss Manette was in the next room as he walked cautiously on the worn Turkish rug. He did not realize this until he had passed the two candles. A young lady of not seventeen was standing at the table between him and the fire to meet him.The lady had on a riding cloak, and the straps of her traveling straw hat were still held in her hand.His eyes fell on a small and beautiful body, a mass of golden hair, blue eyes that met him with a questioning look, and a man so young and clean, but with such a unique ability to look up from time to time. On the forehead that gathers from time to time.The expression on that brow wasn't exactly bewilderment, bewilderment, or surprise, nor was it simply a kind of intelligent, focused concentration, but it included all four.As soon as he saw all this, a strong sense of déjà vu suddenly flashed before his eyes.It was a child, the child he had held in his arms as he crossed that strait.It was a cold day, with hail flashing across the sky and the sea emptying with turbid waves.The impression was gone, like a breath on the narrow and tall full-length mirror behind her, so to speak.On the frame of the mirror is a group of little black love gods visiting patients in the hospital, all missing arms and legs, and some without heads, all offering black flower baskets full of dead sea fruits to the dark-skinned goddess--he asked Manette The lady bowed solemnly.

"Please sit down, sir." The young voice was very clear and pleasant, with a bit of a foreign accent, but not too heavy. "I kiss your hand, miss," said Mr. Lorry, bowing formally in the old manner, before sitting down. "I had a letter from the bank yesterday, sir. Informing me of a news--or a discovery--" "The wording doesn't matter, both names are acceptable." "It's about my poor father's small fortune, I've never seen him--he's been dead for years--" Mr. Lorry stirred in his chair, and looked at the visiting party of the little black Venus with a perplexed look, as if there might be something in their ridiculous basket that might be of use to someone else. "So I must go to Paris. I'm going to meet a gentleman at the bank. The gentleman is very nice, and he's going to Paris on this matter." "That person is me." "I expect you to say so, sir." She curtseyed to him (as young women curtseyed in those days) and said sweetly that she thought he was much older than she was.He bowed to her again. "I replied to the bank that since those who knew the matter and who had kindly advised me thought it necessary for me to go to France, and I was an orphan with no relatives or friends to accompany me, if I could get the lovely I shall be very grateful for the protection of my dear sir. The gentleman has left London, but I think a messenger has been sent to tell him to wait for me here." "I gladly took on the task," said Mr Lowry, "and more than happy to execute it." "Sir, I do want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart. The bank told me that the gentleman would explain the situation to me and prepare me for it to be surprising. I was prepared I was mentally prepared. Of course I developed a strong and urgent interest in knowing the truth." "Of course," said Mr. Lorry. "yes, I--" He paused for a moment, straightening the fluffy wig around his ears. "I really don't know where to start with this matter." He didn't speak immediately, but met her gaze when he hesitated.The young brow was raised in a peculiar expression - unique and beautiful, and quite character - and she raised her hand, as if trying to catch or stop some kind of fleeting moment with an involuntary movement shadow. "Have you never seen me, sir?" "Did I see you?" Rory spread his arms and hands, with a contentious smile. Between her brows and above her small feminine nose appeared a thin wrinkle that couldn't be more faded.She had been standing by a chair and sat down thoughtfully in it.He looked at her thinking, and when she raised her eyes he went on: "It seems to me that in your country I must call you Miss England Manette." "As you please, sir." "Miss Manette, I am a businessman, and I am carrying out a business. Treat me in all your dealings with me as if I were a talking machine--I am nothing more than that. If you will, Miss , I will tell you the story of one of our customers." "story!" As if deliberately trying to misinterpret the word she had repeated, he added hastily, "Yes, client; in banking we call anyone who deals with us a client. He was a French gentleman; scientific and accomplished." , is a doctor." "Not from Bovey?" "Of course, from Povey. Like his lord, Monsieur Manette, from Povey. Like his lord Mr. Manette, he is well known in Paris. I had the good fortune to make his acquaintance there. We are friends." Business relationship, but mutual trust. I was still working in the French branch, and that was—ah! Thirty years ago." "Then—may I ask when it was, sir?" "I mean twenty years ago, Mademoiselle. He married a - English lady, and I was one of his celebrants. Like so many Frenchmen and families, he entrusted all his affairs to Tellson's Bank. Likewise, I am, or have been, the correspondent for dozens of clients. All business relations, madam; no friendship, no special interests or affections, or anything like that. I've changed clients a lot in my business life--and I'm changing clients in business now. In short, I have no feelings; I'm just a machine. I'll say--" "But you're telling the story of my father; and I'm beginning to think—" She frowned strangely, studying him carefully—"my father died two years after my mother. Bring me to England It was you—I'm almost sure." Mr. Lorry seized the little hand of the man who came trustingly but hesitated to shake hands with him, put it to his lips politely, and then sent the young girl back to her seat.Then he supported the back of the chair with his left hand, sometimes wiped his cheeks with his right hand, sometimes adjusted the wig around his ears, sometimes looked down at her face, and continued with gestures - she sat on the chair and looked at him. "Miss Manette, it was I who brought you back. You will see how true what I have just said: I have no feelings, and my relationships with people are business relationships. You were implying that I have never since I went to see you! No, you have been under the protection of Tellson's Bank since then, and I have been busy with Tellson's other business. Feelings! I have no time for feelings, and I have no chance, miss, all my life It's turning a gigantic money machine." After completing this curious description of his daily work, Mr. Lorry flattened the flaxen wig on his head with both hands (which was unnecessary, since its glossy surface was smooth beyond smoothness). , and resumed his original posture. "So far, madam, it's only the story of your unfortunate father--you've realized that, and now I'm going to tell a different part. If your lordship doesn't die when he dies--don't be afraid , you were shocked!" She did shake with fright.She grabbed his wrists with both hands. "Please," said Mr. Lorry reassuringly, putting his left hand on the back of the chair on the fingers that clasped him for help, which were trembling violently, "control yourself and don't get excited--it's just business. Work. I just said--" The girl's expression made him very uneasy, so he had no choice but to stop talking, walked a few steps, and continued: "I said just now: Suppose Mr. Manette had not died, but disappeared suddenly and noiselessly; suppose he had been kidnapped, and then it would not be difficult to guess what terrible place he was taken to. Just to find him; if one of his countrymen was his enemy, and that man had access to certain privileges beyond the sea that even the most daring dared not whisper about, such as signing a blank arrest warrant put anyone in prison, and let him be forgotten for any given period of time. Suppose his wife pleads with the king, queen, court, and church for an inquiry into his whereabouts, and there is no news of him--then your father His history becomes the history of this unfortunate man, the doctor of Napoville." "I beg you to tell me a little more, sir." "I would. I'll tell you right away. But can you stand it?" "I can take anything but the uneasiness you're making me feel right now." "You still have self-control in what you say, and you--you are really calm. Good!" (Although his attitude is not as satisfactory as his words suggest) "This is business work, let's treat it as business work !--a business that must be done. Well, suppose the doctor's wife, though courageous and manly, was terribly wounded before the child was born--" "The child is a girl, sir?" "It's a woman. It's business--business--don't be sorry. Miss, if the poor lady has been terribly hurt before her child is born, and she's made up her mind not to let the child bear her All the pain I've ever endured is to make a child believe that her father is dead, to have a child grow up like this -- no, don't kneel! God! Why are you kneeling to me?" "I want to know the truth. Oh, dear, good and merciful sir, I want to know the truth." "That's--it's business. You've got my mind messed up. How can business be done with a mind messed up? We've got to get our heads right. If you could tell me now what nine ninepence is, or twenty A shilling a guinea and I'll be happy. Then I'll be safe about your state of mind." After he gently lifted her up, she sat quietly. Although she did not answer his request, the hand that grabbed his wrist was much calmer than before, so Mr. Jarvis Lorry felt a little relieved some. "True, true. Take courage! This is business work! You have your business in front of you, a business you can work with, Miss Manette, your mother did it with you. And in Before she died - and I believe her heart was broken - she kept trying to find your father, to no avail. She left you when you were two years old. She wanted you to bloom like a flower, beautiful, happy, whatever Whether your father was released from prison soon, or spent a long time in prison, there are no dark clouds over your head, so you don’t need to live in fear.” As he said this he looked down at her flowing golden hair with approval and pity, as if imagining its immediate graying. "You know that your parents didn't have a large family fortune. Their property was inherited and left to you by your mother. No money or other wealth has been found since, but--" He felt his wrist tightened, and stopped talking.The expression on the brow that had so caught his attention just now had become deep and fixed, expressing pain and fear. "But we've--we've found him. He's still alive. Just changed--that's almost inevitable. Nearly crippled--inevitably, though we can hope for the best. After all Still, alive, your father has been taken to the house of one of his former servants, in Paris. We're going there: I'm going to identify him, if I still recognize him; and you, you're going to restore him to life , love, responsibility, and give him rest and comfort." There was a tremor in her body, and the tremor went through his whole body.With fear, she said in a low but clear voice as if in a dream: "I'm going to see his ghost! It'll be his ghost!--not him." Mr. Lorry stroked the hand that grasped his arm silently, "There, there, there. Listen to me, listen to me, you've got the best and the worst news by now. You Soon to see the poor wronged man. Provided the sea and land travel well, you will soon reach his dear side." She said in the same tone, but in a low voice that was almost a whisper, "I have been free and carefree, but his spirit has never come to haunt me." "One more thing," said Mr. Lorry, emphatically, to attract her attention, "we found him under another name, and his own had long since been forgotten or erased. It would be harmful now to ask which name he used; it would be harmful to ask whether he had been neglected or deliberately imprisoned all these years; it would be harmful to ask anything now Yes, because it's dangerous. Don't bring it up again--nowhere, no way. Just try to get him out of France. I'm British and I'm safe, Del. Mori Bank is also very prestigious in France. But even I and the bank have to avoid mentioning it. I don't have a piece of paper with me to mention this issue. This is a completely secret business. My commission, passport and The memos consisted in one sentence: 'The dead are raised.' That would be open to any explanation. But what? She didn't hear a word! Miss Manette!" Under his hands, she didn't move, didn't say a word, she didn't even lean back in the chair, but she had completely lost consciousness.She stared at him, with that last expression that seemed carved or burned into her brow.Her hand still held him tightly.He was afraid of hurting her, so he didn't dare to pull his hand away, so he stayed still and called for help. A scowling woman ran into the house before the hotel servants.Although Rory was very excited, he also noticed that she was red all over.Red hair, special wrapping red clothes.Fantastic millinery, like a large wooden wine decanter for grenadiers of the Royal Guard, or a large block of Stilton cheese.The woman separated him from the poor lady at once--she thrust a strong hand across his chest, and he fell backwards against the adjacent wall. ("I almost thought she was a man!" thought Mr. Lorry as he hit the wall out of breath.) "Why, look at you people!" the woman shouted at the hotel servant, "what are you standing here staring at me? Bring the vinegar, and I'll make you look good. I will, go!" Everyone immediately dispersed to get the above-mentioned remedy.The woman gently put the patient on the sofa, cared for her expertly and considerately, called her "my baby" and "my bird", and spread her blonde hair to her shoulders proudly and carefully. superior. "You brown man," she turned to Mr. Lorry, in a rage, "why do you frighten her by telling her what you shouldn't? Look at her, her pretty little face is so pale, Cold hands too. Do you think it's like being a banker?" The question was difficult to answer, and Mr. Lorry was so discomfited that he stood at a distance, weakening his sympathy and his sense of shame.The sturdy woman returned to her work step by step after driving away the hotel servants with the unspoken mysterious punishment of "if you keep staring at me, I'll make you look good."She coaxed the girl to rest her sagging head on her shoulder. "Hopefully she's better now," Mr Lowry said. "I won't thank you for being in brown—my sweet little beauty!" "I hope," said Mr. Lorry, after a moment's silence with feeble sympathy and shame, "that you accompanied Miss Manette to France?" "Very likely!" said the sturdy woman. "If someone asked me to go across the sea, do you think God would still place my fate on a small island?" This is another difficult question to answer.Mr. Jarvis Lorry stepped back to think.