有声名著之双城记
CHAPTER XVKnitting
THERE had been earlier drinking than usual in the wine shop ofMonsieur Defarge. As early as six o'clock in the morning,sallow faces peeping through its barred windows had descriedother faces within, bending over measures of wine. MonsieurDefarge sold a very thin wine at the best of times, but itwould seem to have been an unusually thin wine that he sold atthis time. A sour wine, moreover, or a souring, for itsinfluence on the mood of those who drank it was to make themgloomy. No vivacious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of thepressed grape of monsieur Defarge: but, a smouldering firethat burnt in the dark, lay hidden in the dregs of it.
This had been the third morning in succession, on which therehad been early drinking at the wine-shop of Monsieur Defarge.
It had begun on Monday, and here was Wednesday come. There hadbeen more of early brooding than drinking; for, many men hadlistened and whispered and slunk about there from the time ofthe opening of the door, who could not ave laid a Piece ofmoney on the counter to save their souls. These were to thefull as interested in the place, however, as if they couldhave commanded whole barrels of wine; and they glided fromseat to seat, and from corner to corner, swallowing talk inlieu of drink, with greedy looks.
Notwithstanding an unusual flow of company, the master of thewine-shop was not visible. He was not missed; for, nobody whocrossed the threshold looked for him, nobody asked for him,nobody wondered to see only Madame Defarge in her seat,presiding over the distribution of wine, with a bowl ofbattered small coins before her, as much defaced and beatenout of their original impress as the small coinage of humanityfrom whose ragged pockets they had come.
A suspended interest and a prevalent absence of mind, wereperhaps observed by the spies who looked in at the wine-shop,as they looked in at every place, high and low, from theking's palace to the criminal's gaol. Games at cardslanguished, players at dominoes musingly built towers withthem, drinkers drew figures on the tables with spilt drops ofwine, Madame Defarge herself picked out the pattern on hersleeve with her toothpick, and saw and heard somethinginaudible and invisible a long way off.
Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous feature of his, untilmidday. It was high noontide, when two dusty men passedthrough his streets and under his swinging lamps: of whom, onewas Monsieur Defarge: the other a mender of roads in a bluecap. All adust and athirst, the two entered the wine-shop.
Their arrival had lighted a kind of fire in the breast ofSaint Antoine, fast spreading as they came along, whichstirred and flickered in flames of faces at most doors andwindows. Yet, no one had followed them, and no man spoke whenthey entered the wine-shop, though the eyes of every man therewere turned upon them.
`Good-day, gentlemen!' said Monsieur Defarge.
It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue.
It elicited an answering chorus of `Good-day!'
`It is bad weather, gentlemen,' said Defarge, shaking hishead. Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and thenall cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, whogot up and went out.
`My wife,' said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: `Ihave travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads,called Jacques. I met him--by accident--a day an half'sjourney Out of Paris. He is a good child, this mender ofroads, called Jacques. Give him to drink, my wife!'
A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set winebefore the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his bluecap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse hecarried some coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles,and sat munching and drinking near Madame Defarge's counter. Athird man got up and went out.
Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine--but, hetook less than was given to the stranger, as being himself aman to whom it was no rarity--and stood waiting until thecountryman had made his breakfast. He looked at no onepresent, and no one now looked at him; not even MadameDefarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work.
`Have you finished your repast, friend?' he asked, in dueseason.
`Yes, thank you.'
`Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you youcould occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.'
Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street intoa courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out ofthe staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where awhite-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and verybusy, making shoes.
No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men werethere who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And betweenthem and the white-haired man afar off, was the one smalllink, that they had once looked in at him through the chinksin the wail.
Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subduedvoice:
`Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witnessencountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four.
He will tell you all. Speak, Jacques Five!
The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthyforehead with it, and said, `Where shall I commence,monsieur?'
`Commence,' was Monsieur Defarge's not unreasonable reply,`at the commencement.'
`I saw him then, messieurs,' began the mender of roads, ayear ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of theMarquis, hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of it. Ileaving my work on the road, the sun going to bed, thecarriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hangingby the chain--like this.'
Again the mender of roads went through the whole performance;in which he ought to have been perfect by that time, seeingthat it had been the infallible resource and indispensableentertainment of his village during a whole year.
Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the manbefore?
`Never,' answered the mender of roads, recovering hisperpendicular.
Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then?
`By his tall figure,' said the mender of roads, softly, andwith his finger at his nose. `When Monsieur the Marquisdemands that evening,, ``Say, what is he like?'' I makeresponse, ``Tall as a spectre.'''
`You should have said, short as a dwarf,' returned JacquesTwo.
`But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished,neither did he confide in me. Observe! Under thosecircumstances even, I do not offer my testimony. Monsieur theMarquis indicates me with his finger, standing near our littlefountain, and says, ``To me! Bring that rascal!'' My faith,messieurs, I offer nothing.'
`He is right there, Jacques,' murmured Defarge, to him whohad interrupted. `Go on!'
`Good!' said the mender of roads, with an air of mystery.
`The tall man is lost, and he is sought--how many months?
Nine, ten, eleven?'
`No matter, the number,' said Defarge. `He is well hidden,but at last he is unluckily found. Go on!'
`I am again at work upon the hillside, and the sun is againabout to go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to mycottage down in the village below, where it is already dark,when I raise my eyes, and see coming over the hill sixsoldiers. In the midst of them is a tall man with his armsbound--tied to his sides--like this!'
With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a manwith his elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that wereknotted behind him.
`I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see thesoldiers and their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road,that, where any spectacle is well worth looking at), and atfirst, as they approach, I see no more than that they are sixsoldiers with a tall man bound, and that they are almost blackto my sight--except on the side of the sun going to bed wherethey have a red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that their longshadows are on the hollow ridge on the opposite side of theroad, and are on the hill above it, and are like the shadowsof giants. Also, I see that they are covered with dust, andthat the dust moves with them as they come, tramp, tramp! Butwhen they advance quite near to me, I recognise the tall man,and he recognises me. Ah, but he would be well content toprecipitate himself over the hillside once again, as on theevening when he and I first encountered, close to the samespot!' #p#副标题#e#He described it as if he were there, and it was evident thathe saw it vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life.
`I do not show the soldiers that I recognise the tall man; hedoes not show the soldiers that he recognises me; we do it,and we know it, with our eyes. ``Come on!'' says the chief ofthat company, pointing to the village, ``bring him fast to histomb!'' and they bring him faster. I follow. His arms areswelled because of being bound so tight, his wooden shoes arelarge and clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame, andconsequently slow, they drive him with their guns--like this!'
He imitated the action of a man's being impelled forward bythe butt-ends of muskets.
`As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, hefalls. They laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleedingand covered with dust, but he cannot touch it; thereupon theylaugh again. They bring him into the village; all the villageruns to look; they take him past the mill, and up to theprison; all the village sees the prison gate open in thedarkness of the night, and swallow him--like this!'
He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and shut it with asounding snap of his teeth. Observant of his unwillingness tomar the effect by opening it again, Defarge said, `Go on,Jacques.'
`All the village,' pursued the mender of roads, on tiptoe andin a low voice, `withdraws; all the village whispers by thefountain; all the village sleeps; all the village dreams ofthat unhappy one, within the locks and bars of the prison onthe crag, and never to come out of it, except to perish. Inthe morning, with my tools upon my shoulder, eating my morselof black bread as I go, I make a circuit by the prison, on myway to my work. There I see him, high up, behind the bars of alofty iron cage, bloody and dusty as last night, lookingthrough. He has no hand free, to wave to me; I dare not callto him; he regards me like a dead man.'
Defarge and the three glanced darkly at one another. Thelooks of all of them were dark, repressed, and revengeful, asthey listened to the countryman's story; the manner of all ofthem, while it was secret, was authoritative too. They had theair of a rough tribunal; Jacques One and Two sitting on theold pallet-bed, each with his chin resting on his hand, andhis eyes intent on the road-mender; Jacques Three, equallyintent, on one knee behind them, with his agitated hand alwaysgliding over the network of fine nerves about his mouth andnose; Defarge standing between them and the narrator, whom hehad stationed in the light of the window, by turns lookingfrom him to them, and from them to him.
`Go on, Jacques,' said Defarge.
`He remains up there in his iron cage some days. The villagelooks at him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looksup, from a distance, at the prison on the crag; and in theevening, when the work of the day is achieved and it assemblesto gossip at the fountain, all faces are turned towards theprison. Formerly, they were turned towards the posting-house;now, they are turned towards the prison. They whisper at thefountain, that although condemned to death he will not beexecuted; they say that petitions have been presented inParis, showing that he was enraged and made mad by the deathof his child; they say that a petition has been presented tothe King himself. What do I know? It is possible. Perhaps yes,perhaps no.'
`Listen then, Jacques,' Number One of that name sternlyinterposed. `Know that a petition was presented to the Kingand Queen. All here, yourself excepted, saw the King take it,in his carriage in the street, sitting beside the Queen. It isDefarge whom you see here, who, at the hazard of his life,darted out before the horses, with the petition in his hand.'
`And once again listen, Jacques!' said the kneeling NumberThree: his fingers ever wandering over and over those finenerves, with a strikingly greedy air, as if he hungered forsome thing--that was neither food nor drink; `the guard, horseand foot, surrounded the petitioner, and struck him blows. Youhear?'
`I hear, messieurs.'
`Go on then,' said Defarge.
`Again; on the other hand, they whisper at the fountain,'
resumed the countryman, `that he is brought down into ourcountry to be executed on the spot, and that he will verycertainly be executed. They even whisper that because he hasslain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur was the father ofhis tenants--serfs--what you will--he will be executed as aparricide. One old man says at the fountain, that his righthand, armed with the knife, will be burnt off before his face;that, into wounds which will be made in his arms, his breast,and his legs, there will be poured boiling oil, melted lead,hot resin, wax, and sulphur; finally, that he will be tornlimb from limb by four strong horses. That old man says, allthis was actually done to a prisoner who made an attempt onthe life of the late King, Louis Fifteen. But how do I know ifhe lies?
I am not a scholar.'
`Listen once again then, Jacques!' said the man with therestless hand and the craving air. `The name of that prisonerwas Damiens, and it was all done in open day, in the openstreets of this city of Paris; and nothing was more noticed inthe vast concourse that saw it done, than the crowd of ladiesof quality and fashion, who were full of eager attention tothe last--to the last, Jacques, prolonged until nightfall,when he had lost two legs and an arm, and still breathed! Andit was done--why, how old are you?'
`Thirty-five,' said the mender of roads, who looked sixty.
`It was done when you were more than ten years old; you mighthave seen it.'
`Enough!' said Defarge, with grim impatience. `Long live theDevil! Go on.'
`Well! Some whisper this, some whisper that; they sped ofnothing else; even the fountain appears to fall to that tune.
At length, on Sunday night when all the village is asleep,come soldiers, winding down from the prison, and their gunsring on the stones of the little street. Workmen dig, workmenhammer, soldiers laugh and sing; in the morning, by thefountain, there is raised a gallows forty feet high, poisoningthe water.'
The mender of roads looked through rather than at the lowceiling, and pointed as if he saw the gallows somewhere in thesky.
`All work is stopped, all assemble there, nobody leads thecows out, the cows are there with the rest. At midday, theroll of drums. Soldiers have marched into the prison in thenight, and he is in the midst of many soldiers. He is bound asbefore, and in his mouth there is a gag--tied so, with a tightstring, making him look almost as if he laughed.' He suggestedit, by creasing his face with his two thumbs, from the cornersof his mouth to his ears. `On the top of the gallows is fixedthe knife, blade upwards, with its point in the air. He ishanged there forty feet high--and is left hanging, poisoningthe water.
They looked at one another, as he used his blue cap to wipehis face, on which the perspiration had started afresh whilehe recalled the spectacle.
`It is frightful, messieurs. How can the women and thechildren draw water! Who can gossip of an evening, under thatshadow! Under it, have I said? When I left the village, Mondayevening as the sun was going to bed, and looked back from thehill, the shadow struck across the church, across the mill,across the prison--seemed to strike across the earth,messieurs, to where the sky rests upon it!'
The hungry man gnawed one of his fingers as he looked at theother three, and his finger quivered with the craving that wason him.
`That's all, messieurs. I left at sunset (as I had beenwarned to do), and I walked on, that night and half next day,until I met (as I was warned I should) this comrade. With him,I came on, now riding and now walking, through the rest ofyesterday and through last night. And here you see me!'
After a gloomy silence, the first Jacques said, `Good! Youhave acted and recounted faithfully. Will you wait for us alittle, outside the door?'
`Very willingly,' said the mender of roads. Whom Defargeescorted to the top of the stairs, and, leaving seated there,returned.
The three had risen, and their heads were together when hecame back to the garret. #p#副标题#e#`How say you, Jacques?' demanded Number One. `To beregistered?'
`To be registered, as doomed to destruction,' returnedDefarge.
`Magnificent!' croaked the man with the craving.
`The chateau and all the race?' inquired the first.
`The chateau and all the race,' returned Defarge.
`Extermination.'
The hungry man repeated, in a rapturous croak, `Magnificent!'
and began gnawing another finger.
`Are you sure,' asked Jacques Two, of Defarge, `that noembarrassment can arise from our manner of keeping theregister? Without doubt it is safe, for no one beyondourselves can decipher it; but shall we always be able todecipher it or, I ought to say, will she?'
`Jacques,' returned Defarge, drawing himself up, `if madamemy wife undertook to keep the register in her memory alone,she would not lose a word of it--not a syllable of it.
Knitted, in her own stitches and her own symbols, it willalways be as plain to her as the sun. Confide in MadameDefarge. It would be easier for the weakest poltroon thatlives, to erase himself from existence, than to erase oneletter of his name or crimes from the knitted register ofMadame Defarge.'
There was a murmur of confidence and approval, and then theman who hungered, asked: `Is this rustic to be sent back soon?
I hope so. He is very simple; is he not a little dangerous?'
`He knows nothing,' said Defarge; `at least nothing more thanwould easily elevate himself to gallows of the same height. Icharge myself with him; let him remain with me; I will takecare of him, and set him on his road. He wishes to see thefine world--the King, the Queen, and Court; let him see themon Sunday.
`What?' exclaimed the hungry man, staring. `Is it a goodsign, that he wishes to see Royalty and Nobility?'
`Jacques,' said Defarge; judiciously show a cat milk, if youwish her to thirst for it. Judiciously show a dog his naturalprey, if you wish him to bring it down one day.'
Nothing more was said, and the mender of roads, being foundalready dozing on the topmost stair, was advised to layhimself down on the pallet-bed and take some rest. He neededno persuasion, and was soon asleep.
Worse quarters than Defarge's wine-shop, could easily havebeen found in Paris for a provincial slave of that degree.
Saving for a mysterious dread of madame by which he wasconstantly haunted, his life was very new and agreeable. But,madame sat all day at her counter, so expressly unconscious ofhim, and so particularly determined not to perceive that hisbeing there had any connexion with anything below the surface,that he shook in his wooden shoes whenever his eye lighted onher. For, he contended with himself that it was impossible toforesee what that lady might pretend next; and he felt assuredthat if she should take it into her brightly ornamented headto pretend that she had seen him do a murder and afterwardsRay the victim, she would infallibly go through with it untilthe play was played out.
Therefore, when Sunday came, the mender of roads was notenchanted (though he said he was) to find that madame was toaccompany monsieur and himself to Versailles. It wasadditionally disconcerting to have madame knitting all the waythere, in a public conveyance; it was additionallydisconcerting yet, to have madame in the crowd in theafternoon, still with her knitting in her hands as the crowdwaited to see the carriage of the King and Queen.
`You work hard, madame,' said a man near her.
`Yes,' answered Madame Defarge; `I have a good deal to do.'
`What do you make, madame?'
`Many things.'
`For instance--'
`For instance,' returned Madame Defarge, composedly,`shrouds.'
The man moved a little further away, as soon as he could, andthe mender of roads fanned himself with his blue cap: feelingit mightily close and oppressive. If he needed a King andQueen to restore him, he was fortunate in having his remedy athand; for, soon the large-faced King and the fair-faced Queencame in their golden coach, attended by the shining Bull's Eyeof their Court, a glittering multitude of laughing ladies andfine lords; and in jewels and silks and powder and splendourand elegantly spurning figures and handsomely disdainful facesof both sexes, the mender of roads bathed himself, so much tohis temporary intoxication, that he cried Long live the King,Long live the Queen, Long live everybody and everything! as ifhe had never heard of ubiquitous Jacques in his time. Then,there were gardens, courtyards, terraces, fountains, greenbanks, more King and Queen, more Bull's Eye, more lords andladies, more Long live they all! until he absolutely wept withsentiment. During the whole of this scene, which lasted somethree hours, he had plenty of shouting and weeping andsentimental company, and I throughout Defarge held him by thecollar, as if to restrain him from flying at the objects ofhis brief devotion and tearing them pieces.
`Bravo' said Defarge, clapping him on the back when it wasOver, like a patron; `you are a good boy!'
The mender of roads was now coming to himself, and wasmistrustful of having made a mistake in his latedemonstrations; but no.
`You are the fellow we want,' said Defarge, in his ear; `youmake these fools believe that it will last for ever. Then,they are the more insolent, and it is the nearer ended.'
`Hey!' cried the mender of roads, reflectively; `that'strue.' `These fools know nothing. While they despise yourbreath, and would stop it for ever and ever, in you or in ahundred like you rather than in one of their own horses ordogs, they only know what your breath tells them. Let itdeceive them, then, a little longer; it cannot deceive themtoo much.'
Madame Defarge looked superciliously at the client, andnodded in confirmation.
`As to you,' said she, `you would shout and shed tears foranything, if it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?'
`Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment.'
`If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set uponthem to pluck them to pieces and despoil them for your ownadvantage, you would pick out the richest and gayest. Say!
Would you not?'
`Truly yes, madame.'
`Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly,and were set upon them to strip them of their feathers foryour own advantage, you would set upon the birds of the finestfeathers; would you not?'
`It is true, madame.'
`You have seen both dolls and birds today,' said MadameDefarge, with a wave of her hand towards the place where theyhad last been apparent; `now, go home!' |