Chapter 23 Chapter 15 Weaving

The guests at Monsieur Defarge's were earlier than usual.As early as six o'clock in the morning, a few yellow and thin faces were already peeping through the barred windows, and by then many people were seen bowing and holding wine glasses.Monsieur Defarge, even when he was doing well, sold only a very weak wine.But the wine he was selling on this day seemed strangely pale and sour, and might have been called "sour wine," for it had a somber effect on the drinker.The gay Dionysian fire cannot be kindled from M. Defarge's pressed must, whose lees hides a fire smoldering in the dark.

This was the third day in a row that Monsieur Defarge drank early morning wine at M. Defarge's hotel.It started on Monday, and today is Wednesday.It's not as much thinking as drinking in the morning, because many men have been there since they opened the door, listening to others and talking themselves, and these people can't afford to save their own souls wine account.But they are very interested in the hotel, as if they can afford a large barrel of wine.They slipped from seat to seat, corner to corner, with greedy eyes, and swallowed not wine but words. In spite of the extraordinary number of guests, the proprietor of the inn was gone, and no one thought of him, for he was not sought or questioned by those who came through the threshold.They were not surprised to see that only Madame Defarge was sitting at the counter in charge of drinking.Before Madame Defarge was a bowl containing deformed little coins, worn and warped, so different from when they were freshly minted.And the group of people who took coins out of their tattered pockets were the same, far from their natural image.

The spies went up and down, from the king's palace to the criminal's prison.What they saw in this tavern was, perhaps, the general absent-mindedness of wanting something and not getting it.The card player is listless; the domino player is thinking about building a tower with his cards; the drinker is scribbling on the table with spilled wine; Madame Defarge is picking something on his woven sleeve with a toothpick. patterns, yet see and hear what is invisible and inaudible at a distance. St. Antoine drank half a glass like this until noon.At noon two dusty men passed its streets under the flickering street lamps.One is Monsieur Defarge, the other a road mender in a blue cap.The two walked into the hotel covered in dust and very thirsty.Their presence kindled a flame in St. Antoine's chest.The flame spread along with the two people's whereabouts, stirring most of the windows and the faces behind the door openings, causing them to burst into sparks and ignite the flames.But no one followed them, and no one spoke when they entered the hotel, though every face was turned towards them.

"Good day, gentlemen!" said M. Defarge. The salutation, which may have been a tongue-free signal, elicited a chorus of "Good day!" in reply. "The weather is bad, gentlemen," said Defarge, shaking his head. As a result, everyone looked at each other in blank dismay, and then sat down without saying a word.Only one person stood up and walked out. "Ma'am," said Monsieur Defarge to Madame Defarge, "I have traveled several miles with this fine repairer of roads, Jacques, whom I met by chance a day and a half outside Paris. The roadman is a good fellow, Jacques. Give him a drink, wife!"

The second man got up and went out.Madame Defarge put the wine in front of the mender of roads named Jacques, who took off his blue cap, saluted everyone, and drank.On the breast of his blouse he carried a rough piece of black bread, which he sat at Madame Defarge's counter, chewing and drinking from time to time.The third got up again and went out. Defarge drank a little wine to moisten his throat, but drank less than his guests, since wine was not a thing to him.When he had finished he stood there waiting for the countryman to eat his breakfast.He looked at no one, and no one; not even Madame Defarge at him.Now she took up her knitting and began to fight again.

"Have you finished your dessert, my friend?" he asked when the time came. "It's over, thank you." "Come then! I'll take you to the room I told you I was going to give you. It's the best room for you." They went out of the hotel, into the street, out of the street, into the yard, out of the yard, up a steep staircase, out of the stairs, into an attic where a white-haired old man used to sit There is a stool in the attic, hunched over and busy making shoes. Now the white-haired old man is no longer here, but the three people who walked out of the hotel separately are here.There was a little relationship between them and the white-haired old man in the distance: they had peeped at him from a crack in the wall.

Defarge closed the door carefully, and said in a low voice: "Jacques No. 1, Jacques No. 2, Jacques No. 3! He is Jacques No. 5, and I appointed Jacques No. 4 to come to meet you. Let him discuss the situation. Tell me, Jacques No. 5." The mender of roads took off his blue hat with a salute, wiped his dark forehead with it, and said, "Where do you begin, sir?" "From the beginning," replied Defarge with reason. "Gentlemen, a year ago, too, in a summer like this," began the mender of roads, "I saw the man under the Marquis's carriage, hanging by chains. Just see that. The sun is coming soon." Bedtime, and I was leaving get off work when the Marquis' carriage came slowly up the hill. The man was hanging on the chain—like this."

The mender put on another impeccable performance.He should have been perfect by now, for he had been performing the show in the village for a year, and it was a hit, and it had become an indispensable entertainment. Jacques One interrupted to ask if he had seen the man before? "No," replied the mender of roads, regaining his upright posture. Jacques Three asked him how he later recognized the man. "Because of his height," whispered the mender of roads, putting a finger to his nose. "My Lord Marquis said to me that evening, 'Tell me, what does he look like?' I replied, as tall as a monster.'"

"You should have said 'short like a dwarf,'" Jacques II interrupted. "Then how do I know. The man hadn't been killed at that time, and he didn't tell me. Please pay attention! I didn't take the initiative to testify in that case. His Excellency the Marquis stood by our little spring and said, 'Here I'll bring the rascal!' He pointed to me! Seriously, gentlemen, I didn't offer anything." "It is true what he said, Jacques," said Defarge to the interrupter. "Go on!" "Okay!" said the road builder mysteriously. "The tall man disappeared, and everyone caught him—how many months? Nine, ten, eleven months?"

"It doesn't matter how many months," said Defarge. "Anyway, he hid very well, but luckily he was caught. Go on!" "I was working on the hillside again, and the sun was going to sleep again. I was packing up my tools and planning to go downhill and go back to the village. The village was already dark. At this time, I looked up and saw six soldiers coming from the hillside Come along. There's a tall man in the midst of them, with his arms bound--around him--like that!" He used the indispensable hat to show the appearance of a person with his arms tightly tied around his waist and knotted behind his back.

"I stood by my pile of stones by the side of the road, gentlemen, and watched a few soldiers and prisoners go by (the road is deserted, and anything unusual is worth seeing), and as they first came I only watched When six soldiers took a bound prisoner, it was almost black from my direction, except for a red border in the direction where the sun slept. I also saw their long, long shadows falling on the On the sunken ridges and raised hillsides on the other side of the road, they looked like the shadows of giants. I also saw them pattering along covered in dust, and the dust followed them! Then I recognized the tall man, and he recognized me. Oh, he would be glad to jump off the cliff again, as he did that evening when I first saw him, and that place is nearby! " He described it as if he was on the hillside at the moment, and he saw the scene vividly.It seems that he has not seen many scenes in his life. "I didn't let the soldier see that I recognized the tall guy, and he didn't let them see that he recognized me. We just exchanged a wink and we understood. 'Let's go!' The soldier pointed his head at the village, 'Send him to the grave quickly!' said he, walking faster. I followed them. Both his arms were swollen from being bound so tightly. His wooden shoes were big and heavy, and his feet were lame. Limps and walks slowly, and they shoot him off at guns—like this!" He imitated a man walking next to the butt of a gun. "They raced downhill like crazy men, and he fell. The soldiers laughed and pulled him up. His face was bloody and muddy, but they couldn't wipe it off; and when they saw it, they laughed again. Arise. They led him into the village, and the whole village came to see. They led him past the windmill, up the hill, to the jail. The whole village saw the gates of the prison open in the dark of night, and he Swallow it - just like that!" He opened his mouth wide, and then closed it abruptly, with a click of his teeth.Defarge, noting his reluctance to spoil the effect by opening his mouth again, said, "Go on, Jacques." "All the people in the village," continued the mender of roads in a low voice, standing on tiptoe, "have all gone home, whispered by the spring, have fallen asleep, and dreamed of the poor man chained to prison on the top of the cliff." I don't get out of the iron bars unless I go to the execution ground. In the morning I picked up my tools and ate black bread and went to work. I took a detour to the prison and met him there. He was locked in a high The iron cage was full of blood and sand just like last night. He was looking out. His hands were not free, he couldn’t wave to me, he could only look at me like a dead person; I didn’t dare to call him.” Defarge and the three glanced sullenly at each other.Listening to the countryman's story, their faces were all stern, depressed, and hateful. Although their appearance was secret, they were also authoritative, and there was a chilling court atmosphere.Jacques I and II sat on old straw beds, their chins resting on their hands, their eyes fixed on the mender of roads.Jacques Three knelt down on one leg behind them, and his expression was also very focused. An excited hand was always scratching at the tiny nerve network between the nose and mouth.Defarge stood between them and the messenger—he made the messenger stand in the light coming in from the window.The mender of roads kept looking from him to them and from them to him. "Go on, Jacques," said Defarge. "He was locked in that high cage for several days. Everyone in the village was afraid. Although they only dared to look at him secretly, they always looked up at the prison on the cliff from a distance. At dusk, when the day's work was over, everyone Chatting by the spring, all faces turned to the prison—before they all turned to the inn, but now they turned to the prison. They whispered by the spring, saying that although he was sentenced to death, he might not execute it. It is said that there are several Petitions were sent to Paris, saying he was mad because the child was crushed to death. And a petition was also sent to the King. How can I know, but that's possible, maybe Maybe, maybe not.” "Listen, then, Jacques," interrupted Jacques I sternly, "a petition has been sent to the king and queen. The king has been seen by several of us present except you. .It was in the carriage in the street, and he sat beside the Queen. It was Defarge you saw here who jumped in front of the horses with the petition at the risk of his life." "And, Jacques," said Number Three, kneeling on one foot, his fingers always scratching at that sensitive part, with an air of greed, as if yearning for something that was neither food nor drink, " The cavalry and foot guards surrounded him and beat him, do you hear?" "Yes, gentlemen." "Go on," said Defarge. "Also. They whispered another thing at the spring," the countryman went on, "and it is said that he was brought to our country to be killed here, and sure. They even whispered, Because he killed your lord, and your lord was the father of the tenants—serfs, I suppose—so he was to be put to death as a patricide. An old man by the spring said he was right-handed, So burn his right hand in front of his face, and make many slits in his arms, chest, and legs, pour boiling oil, molten lead, hot rosin, wax, and sulfur into it, and then use Four strong horses were tied hand and foot and torn to pieces. The old man said that a prisoner who wanted to murder the former King Louis XV was indeed executed in this way. But did he mean it? It's the truth, how would I know? I never went to school." "Listen then, Jacques," said the scratching and longing man, "that man, Damien, was executed publicly in broad daylight in the streets of Paris. Many, but the most striking are the noble ladies in fashionable dress. They are also very interested and must see the end--the end, Jacques, until the dark, when he has been torn Two legs and an arm, and still breathing! Then kill him—how old are you?" "Thirty-five," said the mender of roads. He looked sixty. "That was when you were ten years old, you may have seen it." "Enough," said Defarge, stern with impatience. "Long live the devil! Go on." "Ah! some whispered this, some whispered that, but the subject was inseparable, and even the spring seemed to lower its voice. Finally, on Sunday night, when the whole village fell asleep, a party of soldiers came , round down the hill from the prison, their guns rattling against the stones of the side street. The laborers dug, the laborers nailed, the soldiers laughed and sang. In the morning a forty-foot high gallows, and poisoned the springs." The mender of roads looked up—no, he looked through—to the low ceiling, and pointed with his finger as if he saw the gallows erected in the sky. "All work stopped, all men gathered, no one led the ox out, the ox was with the man. At noon the drums sounded. The soldier went to the prison as early as midnight and surrounded him He was tied up as before, with a wooden stick stuffed in his mouth, tied tightly with a rope, and he seemed to be smiling from a distance.” He used two thumbs to pry the corners of his mouth toward the ears, pulling out the creases on his face. "His knife was strapped to the top of the gallows, point up, point in the air. He was hanged on that forty-foot gallows, and hung there, poisoning the spring." He wiped his face with the blue hat, sweat beaded again from the memory of the scene.Everyone looked at each other. "It's dreadful, gentlemen. How dare women and children come to draw water in such shadows? Who can talk there at night! Under the gallows, did I say? On Monday evening, the sun goes to bed I left the village at that time. I looked back on the hill, and the shadow hung obliquely on the church, on the windmill, on the prison—it seemed to hang on the whole land, gentlemen, until I met with you. Where the sky meets!" The longing man gnawed at the others with one hand, his fingers trembling with agony. "That's it, gentlemen. I left the village at sunset as told and walked forward. After walking all night and half a day the next day, I met this comrade (as told he would join me), and I went with him. Rise up. Sometimes we ride horses, sometimes we walk, we walked yesterday and all night, and now we come to you." After a sad silence, Jacques One said, "Okay, you speak the truth and act well. Can you wait for us outside the door?" "Gladly," said the mender of roads.Defarge accompanied him to the landing, made him sit down, and went into the attic by himself. When he returned to the house, the three men had already stood up, their heads clustered together. "What do you say, Jacques?" asked One. "Is it on the record?" "On the record. The verdict is wiped out," replied Defarge. "Brilliant!" murmured the longing man. "The estate and the whole family?" asked Number One. "The estate and the family," replied Defarge. "Totally wiped out." The man with the look of longing let out a low, carnival sound, "Wonderful!" He gnawed on another finger. "Are you sure that our recording method will not cause problems?" Jacques II asked Defarge. "No doubt it is safe, because no one can decipher it but ourselves. But must we decipher it ourselves?—or should I say, she always can?" "Jacques," replied Defarge, standing up straight, "since my wife has accepted the task and will keep the record in her memory alone, she will not forget a word—not a syllable." Yes. What she knits with her own stitches and marks is as clear to her as the sun. Trust Madame Defarge. To erase a name or crime from the records Madame Defarge has woven Even a single letter is harder than the most cowardly wiping out his own life!" A murmur of murmurs expressed trust and approval.The eager man asked, "Is this countryman going to be sent back at once? I hope so. He is too simple. Will he cause any danger?" "He knows nothing," said Defarge, "and what he knows will not so easily send him to the gallows as high. I will do his work. Let him stay with me, I'll take care of him and send him back. He wants to see the world—to see kings and queens and princes. Let him go on Sunday!" "What?" cried the man with longing eyes, wide-eyed. "Is that a good sign that he wants to see the king's luxury and aristocratic presence?" "Jacques," said Defarge, "if you want a cat to drink milk, it is wise to make it see milk; and if you want a dog to hunt some day, it is wise to make it see its natural milk." prey." Nothing else was said, and by the time they found the mender of the road, he was beating on the landing.They advised him to lie down on a straw bed and rest.He lay down immediately and fell asleep without persuasion. A provincial man as poor as he could usually find lodgings in Paris than the cottage at the Hotel Defarge.Therefore, if he hadn't always had a mysterious fear of the proprietress in his heart, his life would be very novel and interesting.Fortunately, the proprietress sat at the counter all day long, as if deliberately not paying attention to him, and made up her mind that no matter what superficial relationship he had with him there, she would pretend to turn a blind eye.It made him tremble with fear every time he saw her, because he thought it impossible to know what she was going to pretend next.If her well-dressed head suddenly wanted to pretend to see him kill someone and skin him, she would definitely insist on him and play with him to the end. Therefore, when Sunday came and he heard that the landlady was going to accompany M. Defarge and him to Versailles, he was not very happy (though she expressed her pleasure).What made him even more nervous was that the landlady was still knitting while they were sitting in the stagecoach.What made him especially nervous was that in the afternoon the crowd was already waiting to see the king and queen drive by, and she was still weaving among the crowd. "How industrious you are, ma'am!" said someone beside her. "Yes," replied Madame Defarge, "I have a lot to do." "What do you knit, ma'am?" "a lot of things." "For example—" "For example," replied Madame Defarge calmly, "shrouds." The man moved to the side as quickly as possible, far away.The mender of roads fanned himself with his blue hat, and he felt very crowded and very stuffy.If he needs a king and queen to sober him up, he's lucky, for the sobriety is at hand.The big-faced king and the pretty queen had arrived in a golden carriage.In the lead are the bull's-eye lights of the court, a large group of brightly dressed, laughing women and beautiful lords.They are full of jewels, dressed in silk and satin, powdered and painted, with a grand momentum and arrogance, revealing the faces of men and women who are beautiful and contemptuous.The mender of roads, basking in the grandeur, was momentarily excited, and cried out "Long live the King!" "Long live the Queen!" "Long live everyone!" "Long live everything!" as if he had never heard of the ubiquitous Jacques like.Then there are gardens, courtyards, steps, fountains, green grass slopes, kings and queens again, more palace elites, more dignitaries, ladies and ladies, and more long live!At last he was so emotional that he couldn't add any more, and he began to cry.During the three-hour-long spectacle, he was joined by many emotionally charged people, crying and crying.Defarge clutched him by the collar the whole time, as if afraid he would rush out at the objects of his fleeting adoration and tear them to pieces. "Good!" After the parade, Defarge patted him on the back and said like his benefactor, "You are such a good boy!" The road patcher only came to his senses at this time, and was very worried that he had made a mistake in his performance just now.Fortunately not so. "We need men like you," said Defarge in his ear. "You make these fools think that this situation will last forever, so they will be more arrogant, and they will fall sooner." "Here!" the road mender thought for a while, and then exclaimed, "That's right." "These fools don't know anything. They don't take your voices to their ears; they can stop the throats of hundreds of people like you forever and ever for their dogs or horses. On the other hand, they I only know what you say to them. Just let them be deceived again, it’s not too much for this kind of person to deceive him.” Madame Defarge looked at her visitor contemptuously, and nodded her assent. "As for you," she said, "you'll yell and shed tears about everything, if you're noticing and making a fuss. Tell me if you'll do it or not!" "Do it, ma'am, I'll do it. That's it for now." "If you had a lot of dolls in front of you, and someone urged you to strip them for your own use, you would choose the noblest and most beautiful one, wouldn't you? Say it!" "Yes, ma'am." "If there was a flock of flightless birds in front of you, and someone urged you to pluck their feathers to decorate yourself, you would pick the most beautiful ones, wouldn't you?" "Yes, ma'am." "You've seen the dolls today, and you've seen the birds," Madame Defarge waved her hand to where they had just been. "Now, go home!"