Chapter 46 Chapter 14 End of Weaving

While the fifty-two awaited their fate, Madame Defarge summoned Furies and Jacques III, a juror of the Revolutionary Jury, for a dark and ominous meeting.The place where Madame Defarge consulted with the two servants of fate was not in the hotel, but in the hut of the former road repairer and now the sawmill.Sawyer didn't attend the meeting, he stayed away like a satellite in outer space, ready to speak only when necessary or invited. , "But our Defarge," said Jacques III, "is undoubtedly a good republican, is he not?" "There is no one better than him in France," the eloquent Fury sharply affirmed.

"Don't make noise, little vengeance," Madame Defarge frowned slightly, putting her finger to her assistant's lips, "listen to me, fellow citizen, my husband is a fine republican and a bold man." He deserves the respect of the Republic. He has also gained the trust of the Republic. But he has his weaknesses, and he is soft-hearted to doctors." "Unfortunately," Jacques Three said in a low voice, shaking his head inexplicably, and several cruel fingers scratched anxiously around his mouth again. "That would be less like a good citizen, unfortunately."

"You see," said the landlady, "I'm not interested in doctors. I don't care if he loses his head or not, it's all the same to me. But the Evermonds will have to be wiped out, and the wife and children must live with their husbands and fathers." go.", "She has a beautiful head to follow," said Jacques Three in a low voice. "I've seen a lot of blue-eyed, blond-haired heads around here, and the way Samson lifts them is charming." He was a cannibal, but he spoke like a gourmand. Madame Defarge cast down her eyes and thought. "And that boy is also blond and blue-eyed," Jacques Three thought with an air of enjoyment. "Children are rarely seen there. It's charming:"

"In short," said Madame Defarge, after a moment's pause, "I cannot trust my husband in this matter. I have felt since last night that not only cannot I tell him the details of my plans, but that I must do so quickly, or he may leak them." news, let them run away." "We must not let them escape," said Jacques Three in a low voice. "Not even one. The number of people in this situation is less than half. One hundred and twenty of them should be killed every day." "In short," went on Madame Defarge, "my husband cannot understand why I should exterminate this family; nor can I understand why he should take such care of the doctor. So I must do it myself. Come, little citizen." .”

The sawman touched the red cap with his hand and came over.He treated her with respect and submissiveness, and was terribly afraid of her. "Can you testify to those gestures today, little citizen?" said Madame Defarge sternly. "Yes, yes, why not!" cried the sawman, "every day, rain or shine, from two o'clock to four o'clock, there gesticulating, sometimes with the little one, sometimes without it. I know I know what happened. I saw it with my own eyes." He made many gestures as he spoke, as if by chance imitating complex gestures he had never seen before.

"It's clearly a conspiracy," said Jacques Three. "It's all too clear." "The jury will be all right?" said Madame Defarge, turning her eyes to him with a sullen smile. "Trust the patriotic jury, dear citizen, I can vouch for my fellow jurors." "Now let me think," Madame Defarge began to ponder again, "think again! Can I spare the doctor for my husband's sake? It makes no difference to me. I can spare him." Is it?" "He's got a head too," whispered Jacques Three. "Our current brains are not enough. It's a pity to let them go, I think."

"When I saw that woman, the doctor was gesticulating just like her!" protested Madame Defarge. "I can't talk about this or that, I can't leave the whole case to this little citizen, Because I'm not too bad a witness." Furies and Jacques III vied with each other to affirm that she was the most respectable and the most brilliant witness.Not to be outdone, the little citizen said that she was a unparalleled witness. "No, I can't let him go," said Madame Defarge. "He's going to do it! You've got business at three o'clock to see the batch that's been killed today—isn't it?"

It was the wood sawman who asked this question.The sawman hastened to say that he was going too, and added at the first opportunity that he was the most active republican.In fact, he would be the loneliest republican if anything deprived him of the opportunity to enjoy an afternoon smoke while admiring a national barber.His confession is a bit too much, and it even makes people suspect that he is worried about his own small safety every moment.And perhaps he was under suspicion, for Madame Defarge looked at him contemptuously with her dark eyes. "I'm going there, too," said the landlady. "After the business there is over, you come to my place, to St. Antoine, let's make it eight o'clock, and we will go to my district to expose these people."

The Sawyer said he would be proud and proud if he could keep company with the Citizens.But the female citizen gave him a blank look, which made him very embarrassed. He avoided her gaze like a puppy, got into the firewood pile and started sawing to hide his embarrassment. Madame Defarge beckoned the jurors and Furies to the door, and explained her point further to them: "The woman is now at home waiting for his death. She will mourn, she will suffer, she will be dissatisfied with the judgment of the Republic, and full of sympathy for the enemies of the Republic. I will go to her."

"What an admirable woman, what an admirable woman!" exclaimed Jacques Three, ecstatic. "Ah, my darling!" cried the Fury, and embraced her. "Take my knitting," said Madame Defarge, putting the wool into the hands of the assistant, "and put it on my usual seat, and take the seat bag. Go at once, because nine times out of ten I will There will be more people than usual." "I accept the orders of my superiors with all my heart," replied the Fury swiftly, and kissed her on the cheek. "You won't be late, will you?" "I'll be there before the execution begins."

"Before the prison wagon arrives. As soon as it arrives, my darling," the Fury said after her, as she turned back into the street. "Before the prison van arrives!" Madame Defarge gave a slight wave of her hand to show that she heard and must be there on time, and then walked through the mud and rounded the prison wall.The Furies and the jurors watched her go, with high admiration for her good looks and incomparable morals. Many women of that time were horribly deformed by the hands of the age, but none was more terrifying than this ruthless woman now walking the streets.She has a strong and courageous character, a shrewd and quick mind, and great determination.She possessed a beauty which not only endowed her with a character of stability, solidity, and bitterness, but which made one involuntarily admire it.Whatever the case may be, those "times of confusion" were bound to bring her to the fore.But because she was deeply wronged from childhood and developed deep-seated class hatred, chance developed her into a tigress.She has absolutely no mercy.Even if there was, it is long gone. It didn't matter to her that an innocent man had to die for the crimes of his parents.What she saw was not him, but his parents.It didn't matter to her that the man's wife was going to be a widow and his daughter was going to be an orphan.That kind of punishment was not enough, because they were all her natural enemies, her trophies, and had no right to live.It was impossible to get her to forgive, she had no pity, not even for herself.If she fell in a battle she participated in, she would not pity herself; if she was sent to the guillotine, she would just grit her teeth and wish that the person who sent her to the guillotine would change places with her, but she didn't feel sorry for herself. Resentment Ai's sentimental tenderness. Such was the heart that lay beneath Madame Defarge's coarse gown.She wore the cloth robe casually, but it fit her well, but it was a bit weird.The black hair was particularly voluminous under the rough red cap.She tucked a loaded pistol into her chest.A fast-worn dagger was pinned to his waist.She walks down the street in such a dress, with the confident gait of such a character: expressing the vigor and ease of a woman accustomed to walking bare-legged and bare-footed on the brown sand. At this moment the traveling carriage was waiting for the arrival of the passengers.Mr. Lorry had hesitated last night whether or not Miss Pross should take this carriage.The carriage needs to be kept from being overweight, and especially the time spent checking the carriage and its passengers needs to be minimized, since their escape will likely depend on the seconds saved here and there.After much deliberation, he finally decided to let Miss Pross and Jerry go in the lightest carriage, which was famous at that time, and set off at three o'clock, because they could go in and out of Paris freely.Unencumbered by their driving, they could quickly catch up with the stagecoach and go to the front, hiring horses for the stagecoach in advance, so that it could move quickly during the precious night time-the night is the most afraid of delay. Miss Pross, realizing the real usefulness that this arrangement would serve her in that critical moment, cheerfully assented.She and Jerry saw the carriage set off, saw clearly who Solomon was sending, and worked in fear for another ten minutes, and now they were making the final preparations to catch up with the stagecoach.At this time, Mrs. Defarge was walking on the street, getting closer and closer to this apartment - all the tenants here had evacuated, only they were still discussing: "And now, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, too excited to speak, unable to stand, unable to move, not knowing how to live. "What do you think if we don't start from this yard? One car has already gone here today, and another car will arouse suspicion." "I think you are right, miss," replied Mr. Cruncher. "And I'm always with you, whether you're right or not." "I'm frantic with fear and hope for my darlings," cried Miss Pross, "and I can't think of any idea. Can you have any idea, I Dear poor Mr. Cruncher?" "As far as thinking about the future of life is concerned, I can probably do it, miss," answered Cruncher, "but I'm afraid I can't use my God-blessed old brain at this moment. At the critical moment I want to make two pledges, two oaths, and will you help me remember, miss?" "Oh, dear!" said Miss Pross, still wailing, "I'll remember it right away, but you'll have to take it to heart like a good man." "In the first place," said Mr. Cruncher, trembling all over, with a dead face and solemn expression, "as long as those poor souls can get out of danger, I will never do that kind of thing again, never again!" "I'm quite sure, Mr. Cruncher," replied Miss Pross, "that you will never do it again, whatever it is. I beg you not to think it necessary to specify what it is." "No, ma'am," answered Jerry, "I won't tell you. Second, I will never interfere with Mrs. Cruncher's kneeling for prayers, so long as those poor souls get out of harm's way." .never again!" "'Whatever the household business may be,' said Miss Pross, wiping her tears with an effort of self-possession, 'I believe that Mrs. Cruncher's management is better left to itself. Ah, my poor darlings!' "I would even say, ma'am," went on Mr. Cruncher, with astonishing air, as if addressing from a pulpit, "that you will take my words and tell my wife yourself that I am sorry for the prayers. Things have changed their minds. I wish with all my heart that Mrs. Cruncher was kneeling down and praying for us at this moment!" "Well, well, well, I hope she's praying, my dear," cried Miss Pross, mad with anxiety, "and that her prayers are answered!" "Never come to pass," went on Mr. Cruncher, more solemnly, more slowly, and more persistently. "What I have said and what I have done cannot now be repaid in my vows for these poor souls! Don't let them be fulfilled, we should all kneel (if it is convenient) and pray that they escape from this terrible danger. Don't make it happen, miss: what I'm saying is, don't make it happen!" was the conclusion of Mr. Cruncher's long struggle for a better conclusion. At this moment Madame Defarge was approaching along the avenue. "You speak very well," said Miss Pross. "If we ever get back to our own country, believe me, I will tell Mrs. Cruncher what I remember and understand. And, whatever happens You may trust me in any matter, and attest to your seriousness in this dreadful moment. Now, please, let us think, my respected Mr. Cruncher, let us think!" At this moment Madame Defarge was approaching along the avenue. "Wouldn't it be better if you could go ahead," said Miss Pross, "and tell the carriage not to come here, and wait for me somewhere else?" Cruncher thought that would be better. "Then where are you waiting for me?" asked Miss Pross. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no other place than the London Law Society.But my God!The Law Society of London is thousands of miles away, but Mrs. Defarge is only a few feet away "At the cathedral door," said Miss Pross. "It's not a detour for me to get on the bus there, right? At the gate between the two bell towers of the cathedral?" "No detour, miss," answered Cruncher. "Then, like the best man, go to the station at once, and change the course," said Miss Pross. "I'm a little worried about leaving you," said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating, shaking his head. "Look, you don't know what's going to happen." "Genius knows that," replied Miss Pross. "Don't worry about me. Meet me at the cathedral at three o'clock or a little earlier, I'm sure that's much better than starting here, I'm sure. Come! God bless you, Mr. Cruncher! Leave me alone , take care of those few lives, it depends on us!" These words, and Miss Pross's expressive entreaty, which clasped his in both hands, fixed Mr. Cruncher's mind.He nodded his head to express his encouragement, and then went to change the driving route, leaving her alone to meet him according to his suggestion. Miss Pross was greatly relieved that such a precaution had been devised, and had been carried out.Her appearance must be as calm as usual so as not to attract special attention, which also settled her.She looked at her watch, it was twenty past two.She could waste no more time and must be ready immediately. She was in a mess.She was afraid of the empty house, and she was afraid of the face that seemed to be peeping behind every open door.Miss Pross fetched a basin of water and began to wash her red, swollen eyes.She was full of inexplicable fear, afraid that the water on her eyes would temporarily block her vision, so she kept stopping and looking around, afraid that someone was looking at her.Once she stopped and cried out and stepped back because she saw a figure standing in the room. The washbasin fell to the ground and broke, and the water flowed to Madame Defarge's feet—feet that had walked through the pool of blood with a majestic and unique gait. " Madame Defarge looked at her coldly and said, "Where is Mrs. Evermond?" It occurred to Miss Pross that all the doors were open, and that it would make one think of running away.Her first move was to close all the doors.There were four doors in the room, and she shut them all.Then she stood at Lucy's door. Madame Defarge's dark eyes followed her swift movement, and then fell on her.Years had not tamed Miss Pross' wildness, nor softened her rough form.She's also a tough woman, albeit in a different way.She too looked at every part of Madame Defarge with her eyes. "Don't look like the devil's wife in you," whispered Miss Pross, "you can't get the upper hand on me, I'm an Englishwoman." Madame Defarge looked at her contemptuously, but she felt as much as Miss Pross did;Madame Defarge saw a strong, strong, agile woman, just like the strong-armed woman Mr. Lorry had seen many years ago.Madame Defarge was well aware that Miss Pross was a loyal friend of the family; and Miss Pross was well aware that Madame Defarge was a fierce enemy of the family. "I'm going over there," said Madame Defarge, waving her hand a little toward the murderous place. "They've reserved my seat and my knitting for me there. I'm coming to her on the way." Regards. I want to meet her." "I know you mean it," said Miss Pross. "But don't worry, your bad intentions will never succeed in front of me." One of the two spoke French and the other spoke English. Neither could understand the other, but they were very wary of each other, trying to guess whether they understood or not from the other's expression and attitude. "It will do her no good to hide her from me at this moment," said Madame Defarge. "A good patriot knows what that means. Let me see her. Tell her I want to see her. Do you hear me?" "Even if your eyes roll like a potter's wheel," replied Miss Pross, "I am a four-poster English bed, and if you turn your eyes around, you can't touch me. No, you wicked woman." Foreigner, I have sex with you today." It seems that Mrs. Defarge doesn't understand these village slang words, but she understands that the other party doesn't take herself seriously. "Idiot, stupid pig!" Madame Defarge frowned. "I don't want you to answer, I want to meet her. You go and tell her, I want to know, or don't stand at the door, let me go in by myself!" She gestured angrily when she said it. "I don't care to listen to your nonsense foreign tongue," said Miss Pross, "but to know if you've guessed the truth (perhaps only a part of it), I'd like to give all I have— —except for this suit." The two stared at each other intently.Madame Defarge had not moved since Miss Pross realized she was here, but now she took a step forward. "I'm a Briton," said Miss Pross. "To-day I'd give it a shot, and I'd give it my life that's not worth twopence. I know the longer I keep you here, the more hope my little bird has. If you touch me with a finger , I will pull out all your black hair, not a single one is left!" Thus Miss Pross shook her head and stared at each hurried sentence, and she was panting at every word.She started the fight like this—she had never fought a man in her life. But her courage was of an impulsive quality, and her eyes could not help filling with tears.Madame Defarge mistook her display of courage in this form for weakness. "Ha! Ha!" she laughed, "you poor wretch! What a hero you are! I want to speak to the doctor." Then she broke out and cried, "Citizen Doctor! Mrs. Evermond! Aye! Daughter-in-law of the Fremonds! Which of you will answer to Citizen Defarge but this poor fool?" Perhaps from the ensuing silence, perhaps from the inadvertent betrayal of Miss Pross's expression, perhaps from a sudden inspiration which had nothing to do with either, Madame Defarge saw that they were gone.She quickly opened the three doors and looked inside. "The three rooms are in a mess. Someone hastily packed the luggage, and scattered things are thrown all over the floor. I'm afraid there is no one in the room behind you! Let me see!" "No!" Miss Pross understood her request as fully as Madame Defarge understood her answer. "If they are not in the house, they have escaped. They can be chased and brought back," Madame Defarge said to herself. "As long as you don't know whether they are in the room or not, you can't decide what to do," said Miss Pross to herself. "As long as I don't let you figure it out, you don't want to figure it out. Whether you know it or not, as long as I can entangle you, you don't want to leave here." "I've been running in the streets since I was a child, and nothing has stopped me. I could tear you to pieces, and now I have to get you out of the door," said Madame Defarge. "We're all alone in this yard, and we're just the two of us on top of a tall building, so no one will hear me. I pray God will give me the strength to wrap you around, every minute you're here is worth ten to my darling." Ten thousand ducats!" said Miss Pross. Madame Defarge rushed into the room, and Miss Pross, in a moment of impatience, put her arms around her and hugged her tightly around the waist.Madame Defarge struggled and beat, but to no avail.Miss Pross held her tightly with love and tenacious vitality--love is always stronger than hate--and in the struggle she even lifted her off the ground.Madame Defarge beat her with both hands, and scratched her face, but Miss Pross bent her head and put her arms around her waist, tighter than a woman who fears drowning. Madame Defarge immediately stopped the beating, and reached out to touch the tightly held waist. "Your thing's under my arm," said Miss Pross breathlessly, "and you can't pull it out. Thank God I'm stronger than you. I'll hold you till we have a Pass out or die!" Madame Defarge's hand was on her breast.Miss Pross looked up, recognized what it was, and struck at it with a flash, a loud bang, and then she stood alone, seeing nothing. All this happened in an instant.The smoke dissipated, leaving only an eerie calm.The smoke dissipated in the air like the spirit of the raged woman, whose body lay dead on the ground. Miss Pross was taken aback by the situation, and was terribly frightened.She first ran downstairs, trying to stay away from the corpse and seek help from someone she couldn't find.Fortunately, she remembered the consequences of the disaster she caused, so she quickly stopped and ran back.She was terribly afraid to re-enter the house, but she went in anyway, and walked past the body, taking out the hat and clothes she had to wear.She then went downstairs, shut the door, locked it, took the key, sat on the steps again for a while panting and weeping, then got up and hurried away. Fortunately, she had a veil hanging from her hat, otherwise she would have been questioned on the road.Fortunately, she was born with a strange appearance, so she would not give the impression of being disheveled like other women.She needed both advantages, for her hair was disheveled, her face was deeply scarred by fingernails, and her clothes were so messed up that they had to be rearranged hastily with trembling hands. She threw the key into the river while crossing the bridge.She arrived at the cathedral a few minutes before her bodyguard, and she thought a lot while waiting for him.What would happen if the key was caught in a fishing net?What if the key is identified?What would happen if the door was opened and the body was found?What if she was detained at the city gate, sent to prison, and convicted of murder?She was thinking wildly, and her bodyguard came, put her in the car, and took her away. "Is there any noise in the street?" she asked him. "There is the usual noise," replied Mr. Cruncher, surprised at the question and at her grotesque appearance. "I didn't hear you," said Miss Pross. "What are you talking about?" Mr. Cruncher repeated his answer, but that was in vain, for Miss Pross still could not hear. "Then I'll nod," thought Mr. Cruncher, startled. "She understands that anyway." She did. "Is there any noise in the street now?" asked Miss Pross presently. Mr. Cruncher nodded righteously. "But I didn't hear it." "How can you be deaf in only an hour?" Mr. Cruncher wondered, anxiously. "What happened to her?" "It seems to me," said Miss Pross, "that there was a flash and a bang, and that was the last I'd ever hear in my life." "How queer she looks!" said Mr. Cruncher, growing more and more nervous. "Has she emboldened herself with something? Listen! That dreadful prison wagon is rumbling! Do you hear it, miss?" ?” "Not at all," replied Miss Pross, seeing him speak. "Ah, my good man, there was a bang at first, very loudly, and then there was no sound, never again, never again, and I'm afraid I'll never hear a sound again in my life." Since she can't even hear those terrible rumbles of the wagons--the prison wagon, we're almost at our destination," said Mr. Cruncher, looking over his shoulder, "I reckon she won't hear any more of the world. sound up. " She literally could no longer hear.