A Tale of Two Cities

chapter 3

Astonishing thing, for whoever wants to think about it, that all men are made up in such a way as to be an impenetrable mystery to one another. When I enter a big city at night, it is a serious consideration for me to think that each of these houses grouped in the shadows has secrets which belong to it; that each of the chambers they contain has its own secret, and that each of the hearts that beat in these thousands of breasts is a secret for the heart which is dearest and closest to it!

There is something in this mystery which adds to what is terrible and poignant about death. I will no longer be able to turn the leaf of this beloved book that I vainly hoped to read to the end. I will no longer look into this deep water where, in the light of lightning, I saw a treasure. It was written that the book would be closed forever, as soon as I had read the first sheet of it. It was said that the wave, into which I plunged my greedy eyes, would be covered with an eternal ice, as the light played on its surface, and that I would remain on the shore, in my ignorance of the riches that lie within found contained therein.My neighbor, my friend is dead; the one I loved, who was the joy and happiness of my soul, has ceased to live. It is the inexorable continuity of the secret that has always been at the bottom of their soul, as there is one in me that I will take to my grave. Is there, in the cemeteries of this city that I cross, a sleeper more impenetrable than are, for me, in their interior, the busy inhabitants of its liveliest streets, or that I myself am not for them all?

The poor messenger from Tellsone had, in his capacity as a man, exactly the same power as the king, the prime minister of the state, or the wealthiest merchant in the capital. So with the three travelers locked up in the mail trunk at Dover; each was as complete a mystery to the other two as if it had been in its four- or six-horse carriage, and the territory of one or two counties separated him from its neighbor.

The bank's emissary was trotting in the direction of London; he stopped at almost every tavern, but he stood aside, said nothing, and wore his hat pulled down to his eyebrows. The eyes of the poor man were, moreover, perfectly in keeping with these measures of prudence; Black on the surface, but without any depth, they drew closer to each other, as if they had feared, in parting, to be surprised, each on their own, in some compromising task. The glances they cast under the tucked-up brim of an old hat, resembling a three-horned spittoon, and over the huge muffler, which reached down to the knees from the eyelid, had a grim expression. If he wanted to drink, Tellsone's emissary uncovered his mouth, poured the liquor he was holding in his right hand into it, and dropped the huge muffler as soon as the operation was done.Non, Jerry, non, se disait-il pendant qu’il trottinait sur la route, en ruminant la réponse qu’il rapportait à ces messieurs. Non, Jerry, ce ne serait pas ton affaire. Ressuscité ! Corps de mon âme ! je suppose, Dieu me pardonne ! que le gentleman avait bu ! »

Cette réponse lui causait de telles perplexités, qu’à diverses reprises il avait ôté son chapeau pour se gratter la tête. Excepté sur le sommet du crâne, où il était misérablement chauve, le messager de Tellsone avait des cheveux noirs et roides, inégalement répartis, et vaguant dans toutes les directions, depuis la base de l’occiput jusque, pour ainsi dire, à l’origine d’un nez large et camard. Ces cheveux hérissés rappelaient tellement les broussailles de fer qui garnissaient la crête de certains murs, que les plus habiles sauteurs n’auraient pas accepté notre homme au cheval fondu, en raison de cette chevelure menaçante.

Tandis qu’il revenait à Londres, rapportant le message qu’il devait délivrer au watchman établi à la porte de Tellsone, afin que celui-ci pût, à son tour, le transmettre à qui de droit, les ombres de la nuit formaient à ses yeux des contours bizarres, suscités par le message dont il était porteur ; et à ceux de la vieille jument certaines formes qui naissaient des inquiétudes de la pauvre bête, inquiétudes nombreuses, si l’on en juge par les écarts que faisait la maigre haquenée pour s’éloigner des fantômes qu’elle voyait sur la route.The Dover mailbox meanwhile rolled heavily, squeaked, jingled, scraped, bounced and bumped the three mysterious individuals within. It is probable that the shadows of the night revealed themselves to these gentlemen, as well as to the emissary and his beast, in the form suggested to them by their preoccupations, and their eyelids swollen with sleep.

Among those that haunted the Dover mailbox was the Tellsone House. Mr. Lorry, one arm in the strap which kept him from falling on his neighbor, and held him in his place when the car jumped too hard, leaned forward and swayed his head, eyes half-closed; soon the lanterns, which glittered dimly through the misty windows, the massive body of the traveler who was in front of him, turned into a bank house and did a tremendous amount of business. The tinkling of the harnesses was the clanging of the crowns; and in less than five minutes more bills and bills of exchange were paid than Tellsone and Co., despite their immense connections, paid in a day. Then the vaults of the Bank, filled with valuables and important secrets, opened before Mr. Lorry, who walked through them, holding a smoky candle in one hand, a bundle of enormous keys in the other, and holding them. found in precisely the same condition as when it was last inspected.But, although he was still at Tellsone's, and had not left the carriage, the presence of which he vaguely felt, as one remembers of a wound covered with opium, he did not cease during the whole day. night to be under the impression of this idea that he was going to Paris to unearth a dead man and bring him out of the tomb.

Among the multitude of livid faces that loomed before him, which was that of the ghost he was going to unearth?

Nothing told him. All these faces were that of a forty-five-year-old man, and differed from each other only in the passions they expressed, and in the more or less frightening appearance of their gaunt masks. Pride, contempt, anger, suspicion, stubbornness, stupidity, weakness and despair passed before his eyes in turn, as well as a variety of bony cheeks, cadaver complexions, emaciated hands, of desiccated skeletons. But deep down it was still the same face, the same prematurely whitened head.

For the hundredth time our traveler asked the specter the questionHow many are you buried?

- Soon eighteen! replied the specter, who had told him the same thing a hundred times.

- Have you not given up on the hope of seeing the day again?

- Since a long time.

- You know that you are recalled to life?

- I've been warned.

- Are you happy to live again?

- I do not know.

- Should I bring it to you, or will you come and get it? "

To this question, the answers were contradictory; sometimes the specter whispered in a broken voice:

" Must wait ; his presence would kill me, if you brought him in too soon. "

Sometimes he would say with love and burst into tears:

"Lead me near her. "

Or he would cry hauntedly:

" What do you mean ? I don't know anyone, and I don't understand you. "

After this imaginary dialogue, Mr. Lorry, still in thought, dug, dug, dug, sometimes with a spade, sometimes with a big key, sometimes with his fingernails, to deliver the unfortunate man he was to bring to light. The specter would eventually be pulled from its grave, face and hair filled with sepulchral earth, and suddenly fell back, leaving only a little ashes in its placeThe gentleman woke up with a start, and lowered the ice, in order to plunge back into reality, feeling the rain and the fog wet his forehead and cheeks.

But with open eyes, looking in turn at the misty sky, the shifting light that escaped from the lanterns, the hedge with which the path was bordered, Mr. Lorry saw outside the same shapes that he was assailed inside. . House Tellsone, the previous day's affairs, the vaults of the Bank and their mysteries, the note he had received, the answer he had given to Jerry: it was all in a fog; and from the midst of these images, both confused and incredibly real, rose a livid specter which he questioned again:

"How many are you buried?"

- Soon eighteen.

- Are you satisfied to relive?

- I do not know. "

And he was digging, digging, digging more, until a traveler, making a gesture of impatience, curtly told him to close the mirror.He put his arm back in the strap, wondering who his traveling companions might be; and, from conjecture to conjecture, he came to find in the two sleeping masses the bank house, the specter with hollow eyes, and began to say again:

"How many are you buried?"

- Soon eighteen.

- Have you not given up on the hope of seeing the day again?

- Since a long time. "

These last words still vibrated in his ear, as distinctly as the clearest words that had ever been said to him, when he suddenly awoke and saw the shadows of the night, chased by the coming of the night, flee. day.

He put his head to the door and looked up at the rising sun. A furrow, where the plowman had left the plow, struck his eyes; farther on we saw a young wood, the branches of which had retained numerous leaves of a bright red and golden yellow. The earth was damp and cold; but the sky was pure, and the sun shed its fruitful and brilliant light everywhere..Eighteen years ! whispered Mr. Lorry, gazing at the sun. O divine creator of the day! to be buried alive for eighteen years! "When, in the course of the afternoon, the mail trunk had arrived safely at the end of its journey, the first boy at King George's Hotel opened the car door, as he had heard. 'habit. He did so with a certain respect; for at that time to come from London in winter by mail was an adventurous act, and the traveler brave enough to undertake it was congratulated.

Of our three characters, only one remained to be complimented on his daring; the other two had descended on the road to go to their respective destinations.

The inside of the trunk, with its damp, muddy straw, foul odor and darkness, might have passed for a kennel; and the one who occupied it, shaking himself in the middle of his litter, wrapped in a long-haired coat, covered with a cap with floppy ears, and muddy up to the spine, bore enough resemblance to a dog of large species.

"Boy," asked Mr. Lorry, "isn't there a liner leaving for Calais tomorrow?Yes sir ; If the weather is strong and the wind is not against it, the tide will be favorable, and we will take advantage of it around two in the afternoon. Should we prepare the mister's bed?

- I will not go to bed now; but give me a room, and send for a barber.

- Monsieur is having lunch, then? Very good. Over here, sir; take Monsieur to the Concorde! Monsieur will find a good fire. Go with the gentleman and pull his boots on. Go find the barber, and take him up to the Concorde. "

Always given to travelers who arrived by mail trunk, and they never failed to be wrapped up to their ears, the room known as de la Concorde presented this bizarre peculiarity that only one entry could be seen entering it. species of individuals, and that there emerged the most diverse types. As a result, another boy, two porters, several girls and the hostess were coming and going from the pantry, the kitchen, the lingerie to the bedroom in question, when a figure in his sixties, dressed in full clothing in brown cloth, a little used, but of a rigorous cleanliness, an excellent cut, and put according to all the rules, left the Concorde to go to the dining room."This was deserted. A small table, evidently prepared for the man dressed in brown, was set by the fireplace. The gentleman walked up to it, sat down by the fireside, and stood still as completely as if he had posed for his portrait to be painted. He was a methodical and tidy man, at least he looked like it; one hand on each knee, seeming to listen to the sound ticking of the big watch which, under its basques waistcoat, measured the passage of time, it seemed to oppose its age, and its gravity, to whims and nature ephemeral flame.

He had a shapely leg, a slender, arched foot, which I believe he was proud of, for his maroon silk stockings, impeccably cool and extremely thin, were pulled with care and clung to the skin. skin ; the shoes showed no less sophistication, and while the buckles were simple, they were not lacking in elegance. Her linen, although not of a fineness commensurate with the quality of the stockings, was as pure a whiteness as that of the crest of the waves. He wore a little blonde wig, curly, shiny and fair to the head, which pretended to represent the hair, and which one would have taken for silk, or for spun glass.Underneath that pretty little wig, a face, usually impassive, was nonetheless lit by shining, moist eyes, which must once have cost their owner a great deal of trouble to acquire the calm and reserve Tellsone demanded. The cheeks had the freshness of health, and the face, although it bore wrinkles, showed no trace of worry. Perhaps the old bachelors, confidential employees of Tellsone et Cie, had nothing but other people's worries; and it is possible that the second-hand anxieties are no longer lasting than the clothes of chance.

Mr. Lorry, to complete his resemblance to a man having his portrait painted and posing, soon fell asleep. He woke up when his lunch was brought, and said to the waiter, turning to the table:

"You will say that we are facing all the necessary preparations to receive a young woman who will arrive in the evening. She'll ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or maybe House Tellsone's agent. You will notify me immediately.

- Yes sir ; Tellsone Bank in London?- Certainly.

- Very well, sir; we often have the honor of treating these gentlemen when they go from Paris to London, and vice versa; we travel a lot in the Tellsone house.

- Yes ; we have a counter in France just as important as our house in England.

- Monsieur rarely travels. It seems to me that I didn’t have the honor to see him as often as the others.

- Indeed, my last trip to France goes back fifteen years.

- Truly ! Sir. I was not here yet, and since that time the hotel has changed hands.

- I would gladly believe it.

"But I'll bet whatever you like, sir, that House Tellsone was already prosperous, at least, I'm not saying fifteen, but fifty years ago."

- You could triple your number, take more than a century and a half, and still come close to the truth.

- Ah bah! "

The boy rounded his mouth and eyes, took a step back, threw the napkin he was holding in his right hand under his left arm, and sat down squarely, watched the traveler eat and drink, as if he had been in the water. top of a belfry or an observatory.When Mr. Lorry had finished his lunch he went for a walk on the shore.

The small town of Dover, twisted and turned in on itself, seemed to flee the sea, and hide its head in the cliff, like a frightened ostrich. The bay presented to the eyes the appearance of a desert of waves where the waves, given to their whims, acted only to destroy; they rushed towards the city with a roar, assailed the coast with fury, and scattered haphazardly the debris they removed from the rocks.

The air that circulated around the houses near the shore smelled of the tide so strong, one would have assumed that sick fish came to bathe there, as in summer the stupid people will dive into the sea.

The port of Dover, where fishing was then done on a fairly small scale, was a fairly busy place to walk towards evening, especially at the time of the rising tide. We saw there small merchants, doing nowhere any business, sometimes making immense fortunes, the origin of which remained inexplicable; and, worthy of note, no one in the neighborhood could stand the lamplighters.When, with the waning of the day, the atmosphere, which had occasionally given a glimpse of the coasts of France, again thickened with a thick fog, Mr. Lorry's thoughts also seemed to darken; and, when the sun was down, our traveler, who found himself in the great hall of the hotel, awaiting his evening meal, as he had expected his lunch there, began to dig, dig, dig, in spirit, the mass of hot coals he had before his eyes.

After dinner, a bottle of excellent Bordeaux wine having produced its usual effect, which is to forget the preoccupations of the day, Mr. Lorry had suspended his imaginary work, and was resting in complete tranquility. He had been savoring this charming idleness for a long time already, and he finished pouring himself a last glass of wine with as much satisfaction as any man with a flowery complexion, and of a certain age, who arrives before. at the bottom of the bottle, when the sound of a car echoed on the pavement, and stopped in front of King George's door.It's her ! Mr. Jarvis Lorry said, setting his glass down untouched.

Five minutes later, the boy came to announce that Miss Manette had arrived from London, and that she was asking for the gentleman of the House of Tellsone.

" Already ! Replied the latter, who ventured a few observations.

But the young miss had dined on the way, she did not want to take anything, and showed the keenest desire to see the representative of Tellsone and Co. immediately, if that was possible.

Mr. Lorry could only resign himself and obey; he emptied his glass, adjusted his little wig, and followed the waiter to Miss Manette's.

He entered a large room furnished with funeral furnishings, covered with black horsehair, and cluttered with dismal-looking tables. The one which occupied the middle of the room, and where two torches were placed, had been so often rubbed with oil, that the two candles, the light of which it reflected obscurely, seemed to burn at the bottom of a mahogany tomb, and to have to be exhumed from the tomb, if one wanted to obtain the slightest service from it. It was so difficult to recognize anything, in the midst of this vague darkness, that Mr. Lorry, groping his way around the threadbare carpet, supposed that Miss Manette was in the next room.