Chapter 41 Chapter 9: The Winner Is Sure

Sidney Carton talked to the prison sheep in the dark room next door, in a voice so low that it could not be heard outside.Mr. Lorry looked at Jerry with considerable suspicion and distrust.The way the honest businessman bore the look was even more disturbing.He was always switching the two legs that supported his body back and forth, as if he had grown fifty legs and needed to check them one by one.He checked his fingers, too, with suspicious concentration.As soon as Lord Luo Rui's eyes met his, he almost covered his mouth and coughed, the coughing sound was short, and the coughing method was also peculiar.It is said that there are very few people with a spotless chest in this disease, and even if there are, there are not many.

"Jerry," said Mr. Lorry, "come here." Mr. Cruncher stepped forward, one shoulder forward. "What else have you ever done besides delivering letters?" Mr. Cruncher thought for a while, and looked carefully at his boss again, when he had a brilliant idea, and replied, "Take some agricultural work!" "I'm worried," Mr. Lorry pointed his forefinger, "that you're using the respected and great Tellson's Bank as a cover for some disgraceful and illegal activities. Just don't think that I still treat you as a friend, and don't think that I will keep you a secret. Tellson's Bank doesn't allow people to mess around."

"I hope, sir," pleaded Mr. Cruncher, flushing, "that I'd have the honor of doing you some odd jobs till your hair is all white. Even if I did—I didn't say I did, I just said Even if I did it—I hope that a kind person like you will think about it when he intends to make things difficult for me. Even if he did it, he must consider that it is not one thing, but two things. Now doctors get gold coins, but honest businessmen can't get a copper--a copper! No, not half a plate--half a plate, no, half a coin-- !—the money was deposited in Tellson's Bank, and the doctor looked sideways at the businessman with his curative eyes. The doctors drove in and out—oh, they ran fast, too, if not faster Didn’t he spoil Tellson too? If you eat a mother goose, you must add sauce, and if you eat a male goose, you must also add sauce! There is also Mrs. Cruncher, who kneels down and prays whenever she has a reason, and opposes him. The business has ruined him, and he's been down, at least in England, and always will be. And the doctor's wife doesn't have to pray—have you ever seen them pray! If they do, it's just a prayer for other people to live longer Sick a few times. You say this is wrong, so is that right? Also, even if that’s the case, the funeral home asks for money, the parish clerk asks for money, the church deacon asks for money, and the private night watchmen also ask for money. They all want money, they're all greedy, how many can we get in the end? Even if we lose a few, we can't make a fortune, Mr. Lorry. If I can quit, I've wanted to quit a long time ago, but it's already Get it done—I mean even get it done.”

"Ah," cried Mr. Lorry, more or less forgivingly. "I shudder when I see you now." "I didn't say there was such a thing, but let it be," went on Mr. Cruncher. "I respectfully make a suggestion to you." Stop haggling," Mr Lowry said. "No, I don't, sir," replied Mr. Cruncher, as if nothing could have been further removed from his thoughts and actions than that, "I will not hesitate, but I will respectfully make a suggestion to you, sir. If you want, my son is sitting on the bench of the Law Society over the sea. When he grows up, he will run errands, deliver letters, and do chores for you until you die. As long as you want He. Even if he did (I still haven't said I did, I won't mince words with you, sir), let the kid take his father's place and take care of his mother. Don't ruin the kid's Dad, please don’t, sir, just let his father be a serious grave digger, dig a grave sincerely, and bury people in it. ) admit his mistake, and believe he will always be well buried," said Mr. Cruncher, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm to signify that he was drawing to a close. "That's what I'm going to suggest to you respectfully, Mr. Lorry. It's frightening to see what's going on around here, God, how many people have lost their heads, so many people's efforts have cost less, and there are many others. Yes. Anyone who sees this situation has to think about it seriously! Even if there is such a thing, I beg you to remember what I just said-I might not have said it, but I said it, just to ask peace."

"That's telling the truth," said Mr. Lorry. "Stop talking now. If you have repented and acted, you are qualified to be a friend, and I will still recognize you as a friend. But not in words, I will never listen to words in words." Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forehead as Sidney Carton and the spy emerged from the dark room. "Good-bye, Mr. Bassa," said the former, "it's settled between us, and you needn't be afraid of me." He sat down in the chair before the fire, facing Mr. Lorry.When they were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done? "Nothing. If something goes wrong with the prisoner, I promise to see him, once."

Mr. Lorry's face darkened. "I can only go so far," Carlton said. "Too much to ask and put his head under the axe. Then, as he said, it couldn't be worse to be denounced. That's obviously the weakness of our position. There's nothing we can do about it." "But if something goes wrong in court," said Mr. Lowry, "meetings won't save him." "I didn't say I could save him." Mr. Lorry's eyes gradually turned to the fire.His sympathy for his beloved and the heavy disappointment of the second arrest dimmed his gaze.He could not bear the grief of late, and could not help but feel his own decay, and the tears flowed down his cheeks.

"You are a kind man and a true friend," said Carlton, changing his tone. "Forgive me for noticing your sadness. I cannot sit by and watch my father cry. Even if you were my father, I can only respect your grief so much. In fact, this misfortune has nothing to do with you. relation." Although he returned to his usual nonchalant attitude when he said the last sentence, there was genuine affection and respect in his tone and soothing words.Mr. Lorry, who had never seen his kinder side before, was surprised to see him, and held out his hand, which Carton gave him a gentle shake.

"Let's talk about poor Darnay," said Carton. "Please don't tell Lucy about this meeting or about the arrangement. It won't help her to see Darnay. She probably thinks it's for him as a last resort." Send something, let him commit suicide before the execution!" This thought surprised Mr. Lorry, and he looked at Carton at once to see if he really thought it.It seems to be true.He glanced back at him, clearly understanding what he was thinking. "She may be thinking too much," said Carlton, "every thought may cause her pain. Don't tell her about me. I told you when I first arrived. It would be best not to let me see her." .without her I can still do my best to give her as much help as I can. You intend to go to her, I hope? She must be very miserable to-night!"

"I'm going now, right now." "I'm very happy. She can't do without you and depends on you. How is she now?" "It's anxious, it's sad, but it's beautiful." "what!" This cry was long and mournful, like a long sigh, and like a sob.This brought Mr. Lorry's eyes to Carton's face, which was facing the fire, and a light (or a shadow, perhaps, the old man could not tell) passed quickly across his face, as at the beginning of a storm. Dark clouds passing over the mountains on a clear day.He lifted a foot to push a glowing log that was about to collapse back into the furnace.He wore a fashionable white riding suit and well boots.The firelight in his pale eyes made his face look very pale, and his long, unshaven brown hair hung loose around his face.His indifference to the fire was so curious that Mr. Lorry hastened to warn him that his boots were still on the glowing coals, though the burning logs were crushed under his feet.

"I forgot," he said. Mr. Lorry's eyes were drawn to his face again.He noticed a haggard shadow on the naturally beautiful face, which made the old man vividly recall the expressions of the prisoners in court, and the expressions were still fresh in his mind. "Are you nearly done with your business here, sir?" said Carton, turning to him. "It's almost over. I've finally done what I can do here. I was about to tell you last night when Lucy showed up unexpectedly. I hope to get everything in order and get out of Paris. I have I'm going on vacation, I'm going on vacation."

Both fell silent. "You've got plenty to remember in your long life, don't you, sir?" said Carleton thoughtfully. "I'm seventy-eight years old." "You have done many things in your life, and you have always worked steadily and persistently, and you are trusted, respected and valued by others." "I've been an executive since I was an adult. In fact I could say I've been an executive since I was a kid." "Look at you, seventy-eight years old, what an important position you are in, how many people will miss you after you leave!" "Missing a lonely old bachelor!" Mr. Lorry answered, shaking his head. "No one will cry for me." "How can you say that? Doesn't she cry for you? Doesn't her child?" "Yes, yes, thank God. I don't think exactly what I say." "It's something to thank God for, isn't it?" "Of course, of course." "If you could say to your lonely heart tonight with all your heart, 'I have never won anyone's love and attachment, gratitude and dignity, never aroused tenderness in anyone's heart, never done any good, never done What is beneficial and memorable!' Didn't your seventy-eight years become seventy-eight heavy curses?" "You're right, Mr. Carton. I think so." Sidney turned his eyes to the fire again, and after a long silence said: "I want to ask you: -- does your childhood seem far away? Is it a long, long time ago when you sat on your mother's lap?" His expression softened as he spoke.Mr. Lorry replied: "Twenty years ago, it felt very far away, but at this age, it is not far away, because I am doing circular motion. The closer I get to the end, the closer I am to the starting point. This seems to be a preparation for the final road. Well-meaning comfort and preparation. Now my heart is often moved by many long-sleeping memories of my young and beautiful mother. (How old I am now!) I think of many things in the past, when we called the world. The human heart still seems illusory to me, and my shortcomings have not yet been fixed.” "I know how you feel!" Carton exclaimed, suddenly brightening up. "Does that make you happier?" "I hope so." At this point, Carlton got up to help him put on his coat, and stopped talking. "But you're young." Mr. Lorry returned to the subject. "Yes," said Carlton. "I'm young. But my youth won't last long. I've had enough." "I've had enough, I believe," said Mr. Lorry. "Are you going out?" "I'll walk with you to her door. You know this bum habit of mine, I'm restless. Don't worry if I'm on the street for a long time. I'll be there again in the morning. You Are you going to court tomorrow?" "Unfortunately, going." "I'll go too, but only as an audience. My agent will find me a place. Take my arm, sir." Mr. Lorry caught him, and they went downstairs into the street.A few minutes later they arrived at Rory's destination.Carlton parted with him there, but lingered about.After the door closed, he went to the door again and touched the door.He had heard that she had to go to prison every day. "She came out from here," he looked around, "going this way, she must often step on these stones. I will follow her footsteps." At ten o'clock at night he stopped where Lucy had stood hundreds of times before La Force Prison.A little wood sawman, who had closed his shop, was sitting in front of his shop smoking a cigarette. "Good night, Citizen." Carlton paused to greet him as he passed, for the man looked at him curiously. "Good night, citizen." "What about the Republic?" "You mean the guillotine. That's great! Today's sixty-three. Soon to be a hundred. Samson and his men sometimes complain that they're too tired. Ha, ha, ha! Samson knows how to joke." .What a barber!" "You used to go to see the barber—" "Watch him shave? Often, every day. What a clever barber! Have you ever seen him shave?" "No." "Go and see him when he's busy. Think about it, Citizen. He shaved off sixty-three heads today in less than two packs of cigarettes! In less than two packs of cigarettes, honestly." The smirking little man took down his pipe and explained how he had kept the time for the executioner.A thought flashed through Carlton's mind, and he wished to punch him to death.He turned to leave. "But you are not English," asked the sawman, "though you are dressed in English." "British," Carlton paused again, turning around to answer. "You talk like a Frenchman." "I have read here." "Aha! True Frenchman! Good night, Englishman." "Goodbye, citizen." "You must see that ingenious thing," insisted the little man, calling after him, "and take a pipe!" Not far from his sight, Sidney stopped in the middle of the street.He penciled a few words on a scrap of paper by the dimly flickering street lamps, and then navigated through the dark and dirty streets--the streets were much dirtier than usual, because the county was a stately place in the time of terror. The streets were not cleaned either—stopped in front of a pharmacy.The drugstore owner was closing, a crooked dim little shop by a crooked dopey little man on the side of a crooked uphill road. He walked to the counter, greeted the boss, and put the note in front of him. "Hoo!" The pharmacy owner read the note and whistled softly, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" Sidney Carton made no answer.The pharmacy owner asked again: "Is it you, Citizen?" "I need to." "You have to pay attention to separate use, citizen. Do you know the consequences of combined use?" "very clear." Several packs of medicine were packed and handed to him.He put the bags one by one in the pocket of his inner jacket, counted the money, paid the bill, and left the pharmacy carefully. "Until tomorrow comes," he said, looking up at the moon, "there's nothing else to do. But I can't sleep." He said this aloud under the swiftly drifting clouds, and his attitude was no longer indifferent, nor more lazy than contemptuous, but showed the determination of a weary man.He once wandered and wandered, and he also fought, but he was always desperate.Now he finally found his way and saw the end. Long ago, when he was famous among his early rivals for his success and promise, he had followed his father's coffin to the grave--mother had died long ago--and now, as he walked down the dark street in the heavy He wandered in the dark shadow of the sky, and let the moon and clouds drift above his head, the solemn words on his father's tomb suddenly appeared in his mind: "I am the resurrection, and I am the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; Whoever lives and believes in me shall never die." Stranded alone in a city ruled by the axe, he couldn't help but feel pain for the sixty-three people executed that day, and for the countless others locked in prison to be executed tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.The chain of associations, the words and phrases that reminded him of those days, are like a chain connected to a rusty anchor from a deep altitude, which is easy to trace.But he didn't go back, just repeated those few words and walked forward. Sidney Carton looked with solemn interest at the still lighted windows, where the occupant could find a few hours of peace, forgetting the horrors around him, and going to sleep.He looked at the church tower, where there was no one praying, because the con-artists, robbers, and dandies who had appeared in the priesthood over the years had generally become so disgusting to the point of self-destructiveness.He looked at the cemetery in the distance, and the gate of the cemetery was marked as allocated to "eternal rest".He looked at the full prison, at the streets along which groups of prisoners were dying.Death has long been commonplace and unsurprising, and the action of the guillotine has not aroused any sad legends of lingering souls in the hearts of the world.He watched with solemn interest the life and death of the city, amidst its tumult and fury, which had fallen into a brief slumber of night.He crossed the Seine again and stepped into the brightly lit city streets. There were few carriages in the streets, for riding in a carriage might arouse suspicion, and the upper class had long since concealed their heads under their red caps, put on heavy shoes, and shambled on foot.But the theater was still full. When he passed the theater, the crowd was laughing and rushing out, discussing and heading home.In front of the theater a little girl was walking through the mud with her mother to cross the street.He picked up the child and sent her across the street.He asked her to let him kiss him as the timid arm relaxed his neck. "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me will live, even though they die; those who live and believe in me will never die." At this time the road was quiet and the night was getting darker, and the words of the Bible echoed in the air with the echo of his footsteps.His heart was peaceful and he didn't think about it. He only occasionally repeated those words and phrases in his mouth along with his footsteps, but those words and sentences were always ringing in his ears. As the night faded, he stood on the bridge, listening to the river lapping against the embankment of Paris Island. The houses and cathedral beside the embankment were glowing white under the moonlight, blending together like a picture.Day came desertedly, like the face of a dead body emerging from the sky.Then night and moon and stars faded to gray and died.For a moment, the Great Thousand World seemed to be handed over to the rule of death. However, the glorious sun rose, and it seemed that with its great light, it sent the words that weighed him down at night directly into his heart, and gave him a piece of warmth.He covered his eyes solemnly with his hands, looked towards the sun, and saw a light bridge in the air, connecting him with the sun, and the river shone brightly under the sun. The surging tide in the quiet of the morning is so fast, so deep, so credible, like a congenial friend.He left the house, walked along the river, and fell asleep on the bank, bathed in the light and warmth of the sun.He woke up and stood up, and lingered there for a while, watching a whirlpool aimlessly swirling, swirling, and finally being sucked up by the flowing water, rushing to the sea-"Same as me!" A small trade boat sailed into his sight, sailed out of his sight, with a sail softly toned like a dead leaf.As the trace of the boat disappeared in the water, a prayer broke out in his heart, for mercy on all his blindness and error.That prayer ends: "I am the resurrection and the life." When he returned to the bank, Mr. Lorry had gone out.The whereabouts of this kind old man is not difficult to guess.Sidney.Carleton drank nothing but coffee, ate a little bread, washed, changed his clothes, refreshed himself, and went to court. The courtroom was full of sound and commotion when the black sheep (from whom many frightened and fled) thrust him into an inconspicuous corner of the flock.Mr. Lorry was there, Dr. Manette was there, and there she was, sitting beside her father. When her husband was brought in, she turned her eyes to him, so powerful, so encouraging, so full of admiring love and compassionate tenderness, but also expressed the courage she had for him.Those gazes brought back a healthy color on his face, making him radiant every time he glanced at him, and made his heart liven up.If someone noticed that Lucy's eyes were on Sidney at this moment.Carleton would have found her to have exactly the same influence on him as she had on her husband. There are few, if any, procedures to guarantee hearings of accused persons before that unjust court.The present revolution would not have occurred if all laws, formalities, and ceremonies had not been trampled so wantonly that the suicidal vengeance of the revolution threw them all out of the blue. Every eye was turned to the jury.The jury was all the same staunch patriots, good republicans as they were yesterday, the day before yesterday, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow.Among them, there was one person who stood out the most. That person looked hungry and impatient, and kept scratching his mouth with his fingers, which gave the audience great satisfaction.That was Jack Three of St. Antoine, a bloodthirsty, cannibalistic, bloody juror.The whole jury was like a pack of vicious dogs assembled to judge a deer. Every pair of eyes turned to the five judges and the Attorney General. Today there is no partiality here, only a look of brutality, inhumanity, murderousness, and business.Each pair of eyes turned to another pair of eyes in the crowd, winked at each other approvingly, nodded, looked forward again, and listened intently. Charles Evermond, aka Darnay.Released yesterday, charged again yesterday and re-arrested.The indictment was handed over to the prisoner himself last night.The criminal was accused of being an enemy of the republic, of a nobleman, of a brutal noble family whose family had been deprived of legal protection for shamelessly oppressing the common people with privileges now deprived of them.Charles Evermond, aka Darnay, was duly sentenced to death, without mercy, by the deprivation of legal protection. The Public Prosecutor's statement was very brief and to the effect. The president of the court asked whether the accused had been exposed publicly or secretly. "Public disclosure, President." "Who is the whistleblower?" "Three denounced. Ernest Defarge, hotelier of the Saint-Antoine district." "it is good." "Therese Defarge, wife of the aforementioned Defarge." "it is good." "Alexander Manette, doctor." A deafening din broke out in the courtroom, and Dr. Manette rose from his seat amid the din, pale and trembling. "President, I protest to you in anger. This is a forgery, a deception. You know that the accused is my daughter's husband, and that my daughter and those she loves are more precious to me than my life. This Who is it who insists that I exposed my daughter's husband? Where is it?" "Citizen Manette, be quiet. Disobedience to the authority of the courts will cost you the protection of the law. As for your life, nothing is more precious to a good citizen than a republic. " The rebuke was met with loud applause.The presiding judge rang the bell for silence, and then went on excitedly. "Even if the Republic asks you to sacrifice your daughter, your only responsibility is to sacrifice her. Be quiet and listen!" A frantic cheer ensued.Dr. Manette sat down, looking around, his lips trembling.His daughter moved closer to him.The hungry man rubbed his hands together and scratched his mouth with one hand. Defarge appeared in court.When the court was quiet enough to hear him speak, he quickly recounted the story of his captivity.He had worked in the doctor's house since he was a child and was handed over to him when the doctor was released.His statement is subject to brief scrutiny below.Court work has always been very fast. "You did well in the storming of the Bastille, didn't you, citizen?" "I believe so." At this moment, a woman screamed excitedly from the crowd, "You were the best patriot in Bastille, why didn't you say it? You were a gunner there that day, and you were the first when the cursed fortress fell. Got in. Patriots, I'm telling the truth!" It was the Nemesis who facilitated the interrogation process like this amidst the rapturous applause of the audience.The presiding judge rang the bell, and the inspired, feverish Nemesis screamed, "I don't care about your bell," and she was again applauded. "Report to the court what you did that day in the Bastille, citizen!" "I know that the prisoner I speak of was held in a cell called Tower 105 North," said Defarge, looking down at his wife, who stood at the foot of the steps of his witness box, watching intently. with him. "I heard it from the doctor. When he was making shoes under my care, he only knew his name as North Tower 105, and he didn't know any other names. When I fired the cannon that day, I made up my mind that as long as the fortress was captured I must go and inspect the cell. I climbed into the cell with a citizen, led by a jailer. The citizen is now one of the jurors. I inspected the room very carefully. I was in the chimney A stone was found in a hole which had been removed and replaced, and a manuscript was found in it. Here it is. I have studied Dr. Manette's writings as a work. The manuscript It is indeed in Dr. Manette's handwriting. I submit this manuscript in Dr. Manette's handwriting to the presiding judge." "Read the manuscript." Deathly silence and quiet.The prisoner on trial looks lovingly at his wife; his wife looks anxiously from him to her father; Dr. Manette looks intently at the reader; Madame Defarge gazes intently at the prisoner; Defarge The eyes were fixed on the wife, who was watching happily; the other eyes in the court were fixed on the doctor; the doctor saw none of them.The court read the manuscript, which follows in full.