Chapter 34 Chapter 2 The Whetstone

The Tellson's Bank, in the Saint-Germain quarter of Paris, was a wing of a building, communicated with the outside by a courtyard, and cut off from the street by a high wall and a solid door.This mansion belonged to a great nobleman who had lived here before and had escaped across the border wearing the clothes of his cook when he took refuge.Now he has become a beast escaping from the hunter.But before his "reincarnation", he was none other than the adult who used four strong men to prepare chocolate for his mouth, and the waiter of the chef mentioned just now was still outside.

His Excellency escaped, and those four strong men were ready and willing to slit His Excellency's throat to clear the crime of his high salary, which was to be dedicated to the altar of the Republic in the dawn-undivided , a republic of liberty, equality, fraternity, or death.The adult's residence was only temporarily sealed up at first, but it was later confiscated.Due to the rapid development of the situation, decree after decree was issued rapidly, and in the night of September 3rd in the fall, the patriot committee members who enforced the law had occupied the mansion of your lord, hung a three-color emblem on it, and stood in the magnificent hall. drinking brandy.

If the Tellson's Bank in London had a building like the Tellson's Bank in Paris, it would drive the man in charge crazy and make him notorious in the newspapers, because if there were plants in the bank's yard If there is a little Cupid with wings on the box with an orange tree on top of the counter, how will the person in charge of Britain, who has a strong sense of responsibility and is extremely respectable, explain it?But those things do exist.Tellson had whitewashed Cupid, but there was another Cupid on the ceiling, in a cool thin tunic, looking at the money from morning to night (as was his custom).This pagan doll, with the drapered figure behind him, the mirrors embedded in the walls, and the clerks who are not too old to dance in public under the slightest temptation, would have been unavoidable in Lombard Street, London. It will bankrupt the bank.But Tellson's Bank in France, in spite of these things, was doing well;

What money will be withdrawn from Tellson's Bank in the future?What money will stay there forever, never to be remembered again?What gold, silver, and jewels tarnished in Tellson's warehouse, while its depositor withered or died in prison?How many accounts at Tellson's Bank could not be settled in this world, and had to be handled in another world?No one could tell that night, not even Mr. Jarvis Lorry.He thought hard about these questions for a long time.He sat by the freshly lit fire (the harvest had been bad, and it was cold early), and there was a shadow on his honest and brave face that was greater than the flickering lights overhead could cast, Deeper than all that could be distortedly reflected in the room—a shadow of terror.

He took several rooms in the bank.His devotion to the banking authorities made him a part of the bank like a strong ivy.Chance had secured them some assurance from the patriots of the main building, but the honest old man never hoped for it.There is a large parking lot under the veranda on the opposite side of the courtyard, and several carriages of that official are still parked there.There are two torches fixed on the two pillars, which are burning brightly.There was a large whetstone in the clearing outside in the firelight.It was hastily installed, as if it had been hastily brought over from a nearby blacksmith's or other workshop.Mr. Lorry rose to look out of the window, and shuddered at the sight of these harmless things, and returned to his seat by the fire.He had opened not only the panes, but the outer latticed shutters, and now he closed both windows.He was shivering with cold.

Outside the tall wall and solid door came the usual buzzing sound of the city, and an indescribable bell sound was inserted by chance. The ring sound was eerie and ghostly, as if some abnormal thing of a special nature was flying into the sky. soar. "Thank God," said Mr. Lorry, folding his hands, "for I have no kin in this dreadful city. May God have mercy on those in peril!" The doorbell rang immediately.He thought, "Those people are back!" and sat there listening.But instead of the uproar that he had expected rushing into the courtyard, the gate slammed shut instead, and everything returned to calm.

The tension and fear in his heart stimulated him and made him worry about the bank.The drastic changes in the situation will naturally make people worry and nervous, but his place is strictly guarded.He stood up and wanted to find the reliable person who guarded the building, when his door suddenly opened and two people broke in.He was taken aback by the sight of the approaching person, and stepped back. It's Lucy and her father!Lucy held out her arms to him, with the usual concentrated and intense sincerity on her face, as if the Creator had purposely imprinted on her face, to show her strength at this critical juncture of her life.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Lorry gasped, bewildered. "What's the matter? Lucy! Manette! What's the matter? Why are you here? What's the matter?" Pale and flustered, she stared fixedly at his face, panting in his arms, begging him, "Ah, dear friend! My husband..." "Your husband, Lucy?" "Charles." "What happened to Charles?" "here." "Here, in Paris?" "Been here for days--three or four days--I don't know how many days--I was out of place. A good deed made him go here without saying goodbye. He was arrested at the city gate, sent to gone to prison."

The old man couldn't help but let out a loud cry. Almost at the same time, the doorbell rang again, and a burst of noisy footsteps and voices rushed into the yard. , "What's the matter, all this noise?" said the doctor, turning to the window. "Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry. "Don't look outside! Manette, your life is in danger. Don't touch the shutter." The doctor turned away, with his hand still on the window, and said with a brave sneer: "My dear friend, I have a talisman in this city life! I was a prisoner of the Bastille. In Paris—not only in Paris, but in France—whoever knows that I was a Bastille None of the prisoners would touch me. They would just hug me and lift me up with a feeling of triumph that was too much for me to bear. My old pain gave me the strength to get through All the roadblocks, let me know where Charles is, and send me here. I knew it was going to happen; I knew I could help Charles out of every danger. That's what I told Lucy.—What's that noise? ' He put his hand on the window again.

"Don't look!" cried Mr. Lorry impatiently. "No, Lucy, dear, you can't see either!" He put his arms around her. "Don't be so frightened, my dears. I solemnly swear to you that I had no idea Charles was hurt, or even that he had come to this damned place. What prison was he in?" "Raffles." "Raffles. Lucy, my boy, you have always been brave and capable in doing things. Now you must be calm and follow my instructions strictly, because there are many problems that you can't think of and I can't tell you that you can only solve them by calmness. Today No action at night can help, so you must not go out. I say this because what I have to ask of you for Charles's sake is extremely difficult. You must obey immediately, without moving or making a sound. You must let me Send you into the back room so I can have two minutes alone with your father. It's a matter of life and death, and you must not delay."

"I obey. I can see in your face that there is nothing I can do but obey. I understand your sincerity." The old man kissed her, urged her into his room, locked the door, and hurried back to the doctor, opened the window and part of the shutters, put his hand on his arm, and looked out into the yard with him. They saw a large crowd of men and women: not many, not crowding the courtyard, not forty or fifty in all, nor close together.It was the man who occupied the building that made them come in through the gate to use the whetstone; that's what they installed that thing for.The place is convenient and secluded. But what terrible people they were!What a terrible job to do! The whetstone has a pair of handles.The two men shook wildly.When the millstone turned they lifted their faces, and their long hair fell back, in a way more terrible and cruel than the most terrible savages painted hideously on their faces.They put on false eyebrows and mustaches, and their ferocious faces were stained with blood and sweat, contorted from screaming, and stared with eyes from animal excitement and lack of sleep.The two thugs shook constantly, their cohesive hair flicked down over their eyes and back over the back of their heads.Several women put wine to their mouths and let them drink.Blood was falling, wine was falling, and sparks from the whetstone were falling, forming an atmosphere of blood and fire.Looking around, there was no one in the group that wasn't covered in blood.They took off their shirts and pushed each other to get closer to the whetstone.Their limbs and bodies were dripping with blood and dirt; the rags they wore were also stained with blood.The men hung like monsters with looted lace, silk, and ribbons, which, too, were drenched in blood.The tomahawks, short knives, bayonets, and battle knives they brought to sharpen were all bloody.Some of the missing big knives were wrapped around the wrists of the knife holders with strips of thin silk and torn clothes. Although the materials were different, they all showed the same deep red.The same crimson appeared in the mad eyes of the madmen who wielded weapons, snatching them from the mass of sparks and rushing down the street--the kind of eyes that anyone who has not yet turned into a beast would wish to see. Aim at it with a single shot and destroy it, even if you lose twenty years of life, you are willing, All this is seen in an instant, like the world seen by someone who is drowning or in some other critical situation—if that world exists.The two moved away from the window, the doctor looking for answers in his friend's deathly gray face. "They're killing prisoners," whispered Mr. Lorry, glancing around the closed room. "If you are sure of your word, if you do have the power you think you have--and I believe you do--introduce yourself to these devils! Let them take you to La Force. Perhaps Too late, I don't know, but there can be no more delay." Dr. Manette squeezed his hand and rushed out without putting on his hat.Mr. Lorry was in the yard when he closed the shutter again. His flowing white hair, striking face and nonchalant confidence as he parted his weapon like water quickly put him in the middle of the crowd around the whetstone.There was a brief lull in activity, and he began speaking in a low, indistinct haste, indistinctly, and Mr. Lorry saw him surrounded, and standing in the middle of a procession of twenty men, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm. Holding him by the shoulders, he surrounded him out.The crowd shouted "Long live the Bastille! Go to La Fosse and rescue the Bastille's kin! Let the Bastille go ahead! Go to La Fosse and rescue the prisoner Evermond!" A thousand throats shouted in response. Frightened, he closed the shutters and windows, drew the curtains, and hurried to tell Lucy that her father, with the help of the people, had gone to find her husband, and at the same time found Lucy's daughter and Pu Miss Rose was with her.After a long time, when he sat there watching them even deeper at night, he remembered that he was not surprised by their appearance. At this time Lucy had touched his hand and passed out at his feet.Miss Pross had placed the child on his bed, and her own head was sinking gradually beside the beautiful child's pillow.O the long nights of weeping the poor wife!Oh, the long nights when her father was gone, and there was no news of her! The doorbell rang twice again in the darkness, the crowd rushed in again, the whetstone spun again, and the whizzing sound was made again. "What is it?" cried Lucy, frightened. "Hush! Soldiers sharpen their knives here, too," said Mr. Lorry. "The place is state property now, and used as an arsenal or something, my dear." It came twice in total, but the second time the grinding was weak and intermittent, and then it was dawn, he freed himself from the hand that was holding him, and looked out cautiously, a person was dazed from the road beside the whetstone Looking around.The man was covered in blood, as if he was a seriously injured soldier crawling out of the dead on the battlefield.Presently the exhausted murderer saw one of your lord's carriages in the twilight, and made his way to the splendid conveyance.He got in the car, shut himself up, and rested on the fine upholstery. When Mr. Lorry looked out of the window again, the big whetstone of the earth had already turned, and the sun had already reflected blood red in the yard.But the little whetstone was still standing alone in the quiet morning air, scarlet all over—but the scarlet was not dyed by the sun, and the sun couldn't take it away.