a tale of two cities(双城记)- 第48部分

　　
‘Prison　of　the　Abbaye；　Paris。
June　21；　1792。
　MONSIEUR　HERETOFORE　THE　MARQUIS；　
　‘After　having　long　been　in　danger　of　my　life　at　the　hands　of　the　village；　I　have　been　seized；　with　great　violence　and　indignity；　and　brought　a　long　journey　on　foot　to　Paris。　On　the　road　I　have　suffered　a　great　deal。　Nor　is　that　all；　my　house　has　been　destroyedrazed　to　the　ground。　
　‘The　crime　for　which　I　am　imprisoned；　Monsieur　heretofore　the　Marquis；　and　for　which　I　shall　be　summoned　before　the　tribunal；　and　shall　lose　my　life　（without　your　so　generous　help）；　is；　they　tell　me；　treason　against　the　majesty　of　the　people；　in　that　I　have　acted　against　them　for　an　emigrant。　It　is　in　vain　I　represent　that　I　have　acted　for　them；　and　not　against；　according　to　your　commands。　It　is　in　vain　I　represent　that；　before　the　sequestration　of　emigrant　property；　I　had　remitted　the　imposts　they　had　ceased　to　pay；　that　I　had　collected　no　rent；　that　I　had　had　recourse　to　no　process。　The　only　response　is；　that　I　have　acted　for　an　emigrant；　and　where　is　that　emigrant？　
　‘Ah！　most　gracious　Monsieur　heretofore　the　Marquis；　where　is　that　emigrant？　I　cry　in　my　sleep　where　is　he？　I　demand　of　Heaven；　will　he　not　come　to　deliver　me？　No　answer。　Ah　Monsieur　heretofore　the　Marquis；　I　send　my　desolate　cry　across　the　sea；　hoping　it　may　perhaps　reach　your　ears　through　the　great　bank　of　Tilson　known　at　Paris！　
　‘For　the　love　of　Heaven；　of　justice；　of　generosity；　of　the　honour　of　your　noble　name；　I　supplicate　you；　Monsieur　heretofore　the　Marquis；　to　succour　and　release　me。　My　fault　is；　that　I　have　been　true　to　you。　Oh　Monsieur　heretofore　the　Marquis；　I　pray　you　be　you　true　to　me！　
　‘From　this　prison　here　of　horror；　whence　I　every　hour　tend　nearer　and　nearer　to　destruction；　I　send　you；　Monsieur　heretofore　the　Marquis；　the　assurance　of　my　dolorous　and　unhappy　service。　
　　
‘Your　afflicted
‘GABELLE'
The　latent　uneasiness　in　Darnay's　mind　was　roused　to　vigorous　life　by　this　letter。　The　peril　of　an　old　servant　and　a　good　one；　whose　only　crime　was　fidelity　to　himself　and　his　family；　stared　him　so　reproachfully　in　the　face；　that；　as　he　walked　to　and　fro　in　the　Temple　considering　what　to　do；　he　almost　hid　his　face　from　the　passers…by。　
　He　knew　very　well；　that　in　his　horror　of　the　deed　which　had　culminated　the　bad　deeds　and　bad　reputation　of　the　old　family　house；　in　his　resentful　suspicions　of　his　uncle；　and　in　the　aversion　with　which　his　conscience　regarded　the　crumbling　fabric　that　he　was　supposed　to　uphold；　he　had　acted　imperfectly。　He　knew　very　well；　that　in　his　love　for　Lucie；　his　renunciation　of　his　social　place；　though　by　no　means　new　to　his　own　mind；　had　been　hurried　and　incomplete。　He　knew　that　he　ought　to　have　systematically　worked　it　out　and　supervised　it；　and　that　he　had　meant　to　do　it；　and　that　it　had　never　been　done。　
　The　happiness　of　his　own　chosen　English　home；　the　necessity　of　being　always　actively　employed；　the　swift　changes　and　troubles　of　the　time　which　had　followed　on　one　another　so　fast；　that　the　events　of　this　week　annihilated　the　immature　plans　of　last　week；　and　the　events　of　the　week　following　made　all　new　again；　he　knew　very　well；　that　to　the　force　of　these　circumstances　he　had　yielded　：not　without　disquiet；　but　still　without　continuous　and　accumulating　resistance。　That　he　had　watched　the　times　for　a　time　of　action；　and　that　they　had　shifted　and　struggled　until　the　time　had　gone　by；　and　the　nobility　were　trooping　from　France　by　every　highway　and　byway；　and　their　property　was　in　course　of　confiscation　and　destruction；　and　their　very　names　were　blotting　out；　was　as　well　known　to　himself　as　it　could　be　to　any　new　authority　in　France　that　might　impeach　him　for　it。　
　But；　he　had　oppressed　no　man；　he　had　imprisoned　no　man；　he　was　so　far　from　having　harshly　exacted　payment　of　his　dues；　that　he　had　relinquished　them　of　his　own　will；　thrown　himself　on　a　world　with　no　favour　in　it；　won　his　own　private　place　there；　and　earned　his　own　bread。　Monsieur　Gabelle　had　held　the　impoverished　and　involved　estate　on　written　instructions；　to　spare　the　people；　to　give　them　what　little　there　was　to　givesuch　fuel　as　the　heavy　creditors　would　let　them　have　in　the　winter；　and　such　produce　as　could　be　saved　from　the　same　grip　in　the　summerand　no　doubt　he　had　put　the　fact　in　plea　and　proof；　for　his　own　safety；　so　that　it　could　not　but　appear　now。　
　This　favoured　the　desperate　resolution　Charles　Darnay　had　begun　to　make；　that　he　would　go　to　Paris。　
　Yes。　Like　the　mariner　in　the　old　story；　the　winds　and　streams　had　driven　him　within　the　influence　of　the　Loadstone　Rock；　and　it　was　drawing　him　to　itself；　and　he　must　go。　Everything　that　arose　before　his　mind　drifted　him　on；　faster　and　faster；　more　and　more　steadily；　to　the　terrible　attraction。　His　latent　uneasiness　had　been；　that　bad　aims　were　being　worked　out　in　his　own　unhappy　land　by　bad　instruments；　and　that　he　who　could　not　fail　to　know　that　he　was　better　than　they；　was　not　there；　trying　to　do　something　to　stay　bloodshed；　and　assert　the　claims　of　mercy　and　humanity。　With　this　uneasiness　half　stifled；　and　half　reproaching　him；　he　had　been　brought　to　the　pointed　comparison　of　himself　with　the　brave　old　gentleman　in　whom　duty　was　so　strong；　upon　that　comparison　（injurious　to　himself）　had　instantly　followed　the　sneers　of　Monseigneur；　which　had　stung　him　bitterly；　and　those　of　Stryver；　which　above　all　were　coarse　and　galling；　for　old　reasons。　Upon　those；　had　followed　Gabelle's　letter：　the　appeal　of　an　innocent　prisoner；　in　danger　of　death；　to　his　justice；　honour；　and　good　name。　
　His　resolution　was　made。　He　must　go　to　Paris。　
　Yes。　The　Loadstone　Rock　was　drawing　him；　and　he　must　sail　on；　until　he　struck。　He　knew　of　no　rock；　he　saw　hardly　any　danger。　The　intention　with　which　he　had　done　what　he　had　done；　even　although　he　had　left　it　incomplete；　presented　it　before　him　in　an　aspect　that　would　be　gratefully　acknowledged　in　France　on　his　presenting　himself　to　assert　it。　Then；　that　glorious　vision　of　doing　good；　which　is　so　often　the　sanguine　mirage　of　so　many　good　minds；　arose　before　him；　and　he　even　saw　himself　in　the　illusion　with　some　influence　to　guide　this　raging　Revolution　that　was　running　so　fearfully　wild。　
　As　he　walked　to　and　fro　with　his　resolution　made；　he　considered　that　neither　Lucie　nor　her　father　must　know　of　it　until　he　was　gone。　Lucie　should　be　spared　the　pain　of　separation；　and　her　father；　always　reluctant　to　turn　his　thoughts　towards　the　dangerous　ground　of　old；　should　come　to　the　knowledge　of　the　step；　as　a　step　taken；　and　not　in　the　balance　of　suspense　and　doubt。　How　much　of　the　incompleteness　of　his　situation　was　referable　to　her　father；　through　the　painful　anxiety　to　avoid　reviving　old　associations　of　France　in　his　mind；　he　did　not　discuss　with　himself。　But；　that　circumstance　too；　had　had　its　influence　in　his　course。　
　He　walked　to　and　fro；　with　thoughts　very　busy；　until　it　was　time　to　return　to　Tellson's　and　take　leave　of　Mr。　Lorry。　As　soon　as　he　arrived　in　Paris　he　would　present　himself　to　this　old　friend；　but　he　must　say　nothing　of　his　intention　now。　
　A　carriage　with　post…horses　was　ready　at　the　Bank　door；　and　Jerry　was　booted　and　equipped。　
　‘I　have　delivered　that　letter；'　said　Charles　Darnay　to　Mr。　Lorry。　‘I　would　not　consent　to　your　being　charged　with　any　written　answer；　but　perhaps　you　will　take　a　verbal　one？'　
　‘That　I　will；　and　readily；'　said　Mr。　Lorry；　‘if　it　is　not　dangerous。'　
　‘Not　at　all。　Though　it　is　to　a　prisoner　in　the　Abbaye。'　
　‘What　is　his　name？'　said　Mr。　Lorry；　with　his　open　pocket…book　in　his　hand。　
　‘Gabelle。'　
　‘Gabelle。　And　what　is　the　message　to　the　unfortunate　Gabelle　in　prison？'　
　‘Simply；　〃that　he　has　received　the　letter；　and　will　come。〃'　
‘Any　time　mentioned？'　
‘He　will　start　upon　his　journey　to…morrow　night。'　
‘Any　person　mentioned？'　
‘No。'　
　He　helped　Mr。　Lorry　to　wrap　himself　in　a　number　of　coats　and　cloaks；　and　went　out　with　him　from　the　warm　atmosphere　of　the　old　Bank；　into　the　misty　air　of　Fleet…street。　‘My　love　to　Lucie；　and　to　little　Lucie；'　said　Mr。　Lorry　at　parting；　‘and　take　precious　care　of　them　till　I　come　back。'　Charles　Darnay　shook　his　head　and　doubtfully　smiled；　as　the　carriage　rolled　away。　
　That　nightit　was　the　fourteenth　of　Augusthe　sat　up　late；　and　wrote　two　fervent　letters；　one　was　to　Lucie；　explaining　the　strong　obligation　he　was　under　to　go　to　Paris；　and　showing　her；　at　length；　the　reasons　that　he　had；　for　feeling　confident　that　he　could　become　involved　in　no　personal　danger　there；　the　other　was　to　the　Doctor；　confiding　Lucie　and　their　dear　child　to　his　care；　and　dwelling　on　the　same　topics　with　the　strongest　assurances。　To　both；　he　wrote　that　he　would　despatch　letters　in　proof　of　his　safety；　immediately　after　his　arrival。　
　It　was　a　hard　day；　that　day　of　being　among　them；　with　the　first　reservation　of　their　joint　lives　on　his　mind。　It　was　a　hard　matter　to　preserve　the　innocent　deceit　of　which　they　were　profoundly　unsuspicious。　But；　an　affectionate　glance　at　his　wife；　so　happy　and　busy；　made　him　resolute　not　to　tell　her　what　impended　（he　had　been　half　moved　to　do　it；　so　strange　it　was　to　him　to　act　in　anything　without　her　quiet　aid）；　and　the　day　passed　quickly　away。　Early　in　the　evening　he　embraced　her；　and　her　scarcely　less　dear　namesake；　pretending　that　he　would　return　by…and…by　（an　imaginary　engagement　took　him　out；　and　he　had　secreted　a　valise　of　clothes　ready）；　and　so　he　emerged　into　the　heavy　mist　of　the　heavy　streets；　with　a　heavier　heart。　
　The　unseen　force　was　drawing　him　fast　to　itself；　now；　and　all　the　tides　and　winds　were　setting　straight　and　strong　towards　it。　He　left　his　two　letters　with　a　trusty　porter；　to　be　delivered　half　an　hour　before　midnight；　and　no　sooner；　took　horse　for　Dover；　and　began　his　journey。　‘For　the　love　of　Heaven；　of　justice；　of　generosity；　of　the　honour　of　your　noble　name！'　was　the　poor　prisoner's　cry　with　which　he　strengthened　his　sinking　heart；　as　he　left　all　that　was　dear　on　earth　behind　him；　and　floated　away　for　the　Loadstone　Rock。　
　　
THE　END　OF　THE　SECOND　BOOK


BOOK　THE　THIRD
THE　TRACK　OF　A　STORM
CHAPTER　I
In　Secret
　
THE　traveller　fared　slowly　on　his　way；　who　fared　towards　Paris　from　England　in　the　autumn　of　the　year　one　thousand　seven　hundred　and　ninety…two。　More　than　enough　of　bad　roads；　bad　equipages；