VII. A Knock at the Door
”I have saved him.” It was not another of the dreams in which he hadoften come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and avague but heavy fear was upon her.
All the air round was so thick and dark, the people were so passionatelyrevengeful and fitful, the innocent were so constantly put to death onvague suspicion and black malice, it was so impossible to forget thatmany as blameless as her husband and as dear to others as he was toher, every day shared the fate from which he had been clutched, that herheart could not be as lightened of its load as she felt it ought to be.The shadows of the wintry afternoon were beginning to fall, and even nowthe dreadful carts were rolling through the streets. Her mind pursuedthem, looking for him among the Condemned; and then she clung closer tohis real presence and trembled more.
Her father, cheering her, showed a compassionate superiority to thiswoman's weakness, which was wonderful to see. No garret, no shoemaking,no One Hundred and Five, North Tower, now! He had accomplished the taskhe had set himself, his promise was redeemed, he had saved Charles. Letthem all lean upon him.
Their housekeeping was of a very frugal kind: not only because that wasthe safest way of life, involving the least offence to the people, butbecause they were not rich, and Charles, throughout his imprisonment,had had to pay heavily for his bad food, and for his guard, and towardsthe living of the poorer prisoners. Partly on this account, andpartly to avoid a domestic spy, they kept no servant; the citizen andcitizeness who acted as porters at the courtyard gate, rendered themoccasional service; and Jerry (almost wholly transferred to them byMr. Lorry) had become their daily retainer, and had his bed there everynight.
It was an ordinance of the Republic One and Indivisible of Liberty,Equality, Fraternity, or Death, that on the door or doorpost of everyhouse, the name of every inmate must be legibly inscribed in lettersof a certain size, at a certain convenient height from the ground. Mr.Jerry Cruncher's name, therefore, duly embellished the doorpost downbelow; and, as the afternoon shadows deepened, the owner of that namehimself appeared, from overlooking a painter whom Doctor Manette hademployed to add to the list the name of Charles Evremonde, calledDarnay.
In the universal fear and distrust that darkened the time, all the usualharmless ways of life were changed. In the Doctor's little household, asin very many others, the articles of daily consumption that were wantedwere purchased every evening, in small quantities and at various smallshops. To avoid attracting notice, and to give as little occasion aspossible for talk and envy, was the general desire.
For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher had discharged theoffice of purveyors; the former carrying the money; the latter, thebasket. Every afternoon at about the time when the public lamps werelighted, they fared forth on this duty, and made and brought homesuch purchases as were needful. Although Miss Pross, through her longassociation with a French family, might have known as much of theirlanguage as of her own, if she had had a mind, she had no mind in thatdirection; consequently she knew no more of that ”nonsense” (as she waspleased to call it) than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manner of marketingwas to plump a noun-substantive at the head of a shopkeeper without anyintroduction in the nature of an article, and, if it happened not to bethe name of the thing she wanted, to look round for that thing, lay holdof it, and hold on by it until the bargain was concluded. She alwaysmade a bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement of its just price,one finger less than the merchant held up, whatever his number might be.
”Now, Mr. Cruncher,” said Miss Pross, whose eyes were red with felicity;”if you are ready, I am.”
Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss Pross's service. He had wornall his rust off long ago, but nothing would file his spiky head down.
”There's all manner of things wanted,” said Miss Pross, ”and we shallhave a precious time of it. We want wine, among the rest. Nice toaststhese Redheads will be drinking, wherever we buy it.”
”It will be much the same to your knowledge, miss, I should think,”retorted Jerry, ”whether they drink your health or the Old Un's.”
”Who's he?” said Miss Pross.
Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself as meaning ”OldNick's.”
”Ha!” said Miss Pross, ”it doesn't need an interpreter to explain themeaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it's Midnight Murder,and Mischief.”
”Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!” cried Lucie.
”Yes, yes, yes, I'll be cautious,” said Miss Pross; ”but I may sayamong ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony and tobaccoeysmotherings in the form of embracings all round, going on in thestreets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till I come back!Take care of the dear husband you have recovered, and don't move yourpretty head from his shoulder as you have it now, till you see me again!May I ask a question, Doctor Manette, before I go?”
”I think you may take that liberty,” the Doctor answered, smiling.
”For gracious sake, don't talk about Liberty; we have quite enough ofthat,” said Miss Pross.
”Hush, dear! Again?” Lucie remonstrated.
”Well, my sweet,” said Miss Pross, nodding her head emphatically, ”theshort and the long of it is, that I am a subject of His Most GraciousMajesty King George the Third;” Miss Pross curtseyed at the name; ”andas such, my maxim is, Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavishtricks, On him our hopes we fix, God save the King!”
Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated the wordsafter Miss Pross, like somebody at church.
”I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, though I wish youhad never taken that cold in your voice,” said Miss Pross, approvingly.”But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there”--it was the good creature'sway to affect to make light of anything that was a great anxietywith them all, and to come at it in this chance manner--”is there anyprospect yet, of our getting out of this place?”
”I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet.”
”Heigh-ho-hum!” said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sigh as sheglanced at her darling's golden hair in the light of the fire, ”then wemust have patience and wait: that's all. We must hold up our heads andfight low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now, Mr. Cruncher!--Don'tyou move, Ladybird!”
They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father, and thechild, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presently from theBanking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but had put it aside ina corner, that they might enjoy the fire-light undisturbed. Little Luciesat by her grandfather with her hands clasped through his arm: and he,in a tone not rising much above a whisper, began to tell her a story ofa great and powerful Fairy who had opened a prison-wall and let outa captive who had once done the Fairy a service. All was subdued andquiet, and Lucie was more at ease than she had been.
”What is that?” she cried, all at once.
”My dear!” said her father, stopping in his story, and laying his handon hers, ”command yourself. What a disordered state you are in! Theleast thing--nothing--startles you! _You_, your father's daughter!”
”I thought, my father,” said Lucie, excusing herself, with a pale faceand in a faltering voice, ”that I heard strange feet upon the stairs.”
”My love, the staircase is as still as Death.”
As he said the word, a blow was struck upon the door.
”Oh father, father. What can this be! Hide Charles. Save him!”
”My child,” said the Doctor, rising, and laying his hand upon hershoulder, ”I _have_ saved him. What weakness is this, my dear! Let me goto the door.”
He took the lamp in his hand, crossed the two intervening outer rooms,and opened it. A rude clattering of feet over the floor, and four roughmen in red caps, armed with sabres and pistols, entered the room.
”The Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay,” said the first.
”Who seeks him?” answered Darnay.
”I seek him. We seek him. I know you, Evremonde; I saw you before theTribunal to-day. You are again the prisoner of the Republic.”
The four surrounded him, where he stood with his wife and child clingingto him.
”Tell me how and why am I again a prisoner?”
”It is enough that you return straight to the Conciergerie, and willknow to-morrow. You are summoned for to-morrow.”
Doctor Manette, whom this visitation had so turned into stone, that hestood with the lamp in his hand, as if he were a statue made to hold it,moved after these words were spoken, put the lamp down, and confrontingthe speaker, and taking him, not ungently, by the loose front of his redwoollen shirt, said:
”You know him, you have said. Do you know me?”
”Yes, I know you, Citizen Doctor.”
”We all know you, Citizen Doctor,” said the other three.
He looked abstractedly from one to another, and said, in a lower voice,after a pause:
”Will you answer his question to me then? How does this happen?”
”Citizen Doctor,” said the first, reluctantly, ”he has been denounced tothe Section of Saint Antoine. This citizen,” pointing out the second whohad entered, ”is from Saint Antoine.”
The citizen here indicated nodded his head, and added:
”He is accused by Saint Antoine.”
”Of what?” asked the Doctor.
”Citizen Doctor,” said the first, with his former reluctance, ”ask nomore. If the Republic demands sacrifices from you, without doubt you asa good patriot will be happy to make them. The Republic goes before all.The People is supreme. Evremonde, we are pressed.”
”One word,” the Doctor entreated. ”Will you tell me who denounced him?”
”It is against rule,” answered the first; ”but you can ask Him of SaintAntoine here.”
The Doctor turned his eyes upon that man. Who moved uneasily on hisfeet, rubbed his beard a little, and at length said:
”Well! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced--and gravely--bythe Citizen and Citizeness Defarge. And by one other.”
”What other?”
”Do _you_ ask, Citizen Doctor?”
”Yes.”
”Then,” said he of Saint Antoine, with a strange look, ”you will beanswered to-morrow. Now, I am dumb!”