him; not even Madame Defarge, who had taken
up her knitting, and was at work.

"Have you finished your repast, friend?" he
asked, in due season.

"Yes, thank you."

"Come then! You shall see the apartment
that I told you you could occupy. It will suit
you to a marvel."

Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of
the street into a court-yard, out of the court-
yard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase
into a garret—formerly the garret where a
white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping
forward and very busy, making shoes.

No white-haired man was there now; but, the
three men were there who had gone out of the
wine-shop singly. And between them and the
white-haired man afar off, was the one small
link, that they had once looked in at him through
the chinks in the wall.

Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in
a subdued voice:

"Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three!
This is the witness encountered by appointment,
by me, Jacques Four. He will tell you all.
Speak, Jacques Five!"

The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped
his swarthy forehead 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, "a year ago this running
summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis,
hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of
it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun
going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly
ascending the hill, he hanging by the chain—like
this."

Again, the mender of roads went through the
old performance; in which he ought to have
been perfect by that time, seeing that it had
been the infallible resource and indispensable
entertainment of his village during a whole year.

Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had
ever seen the man before?

"Never," answered the mender of roads,
recovering his perpendicular.

Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards
recognised him then?

"By his tall figure," said the mender of
roads, softly, and with his finger at his nose.
"When Monsieur the Marquis demands that
evening, 'Say, what is he like?' I make response,
'Tall as a spectre.'"

"You should have said, short as a dwarf,"
returned Jacques Two.

"But what did I know! The deed was not
then accomplished, neither did he confide in me.
Observe! Under those circumstances even, I do
not offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis
indicates me with his finger, standing near our
little fountain, and says, 'To me! Bring that
rascal!' My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing."

"He is right there, Jacques," murmured
Defarge, to him who had 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 hill-side, and
the sun is again about to go to bed. I am
collecting my tools to descend to my cottage down
in the village below, where it is already dark,
when I raise my eyes, and see coming over the
hill, six soldiers. In the midst of them is a tall
man with his arms bound—tied to his sides, like
this!"

With the aid of his indispensable cap, he
represented a man with his elbows bound fast at
his hips, with cords that were knotted behind
him.

"I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of
stones, to see the soldiers and their prisoner
pass (for it is a solitary road, that, where any
spectacle is well worth looking at), and at first,
as they approach, I see no more than that they
are six soldiers with a tall man bound, and that
they are almost black, to my sight except on the
side of the sun going to bed, where they have a
red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that their long
shadows are on the hollow ridge on the opposite
side of the road, and are on the hill above it,
and are like the shadows of giants. Also, I see
that they are covered with dust, and that the dust
moves with them as they come, tramp, tramp!
But when they advance quite near to me, I
recognise the tall man, and he recognises me.
Ah, but he would be well content to precipitate
himself over the hill-side once again, as on the
evening when he and I first encountered, close
to the same spot!"

He described it as if he were there, and it was
evident that he saw it vividly; perhaps he had
not seen much in his life.

"I do not show the soldiers that I recognise
the tall man; he does not show the soldiers that
he recognises me; we do it, and we know it, with
our eyes. 'Come on!' says the chief of that
company, pointing to the village, 'bring him fast
to his tomb!' and they bring him faster. I
follow. His arms are swelled because of being
bound so tight, his wooden shoes are large and
clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame,
and consequently slow, they drive him with their
guns like this!"

He imitated the action of a man's being impelled
forward by the butt-ends of muskets.

"As they descend the hill like madmen
running a race, he falls. They laugh and
pick him up again. His face is bleeding and
covered with dust, but he cannot touch it;
thereupon, they laugh again. They bring him
into the village; all the village runs to look;
they take him past the mill, and up to the
prison; all the village sees the prison gate open
in the darkness of the night, and swallow him—
like this!"

He opened his mouth as wide as he could,
and shut it with a sounding snap of his teeth.