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is prepared to die or to let a loved one die for it. So when the President said (partly because his own head would be in danger if he had not said it) that the good Doctor of the new government would be loved even more by the people for helping them to destroy a hated high class family, and that he would surely feel a holy happiness by having his daughter's husband and her child's father killed, the people went wild with happiness and enthusiasm for their country, without the smallest feeling for what the Doctor or his family were going through.

"Much effect around him, has that Doctor?” whispered Madam Defarge, smiling, to The Punisher. "Save him now, my Doctor. Save him now!"

As each member of the jury voted, there were loud shouts from the crowd. Another and another. Shouts and more shouts.

They all agreed. At heart and by family he was part of the rich class, an enemy of the people's government, one who had worked to bring pain to the people. He must go back to the court prison and be killed before twenty-four hours were out!



11. The Sun Goes Down

The poor wife of the innocent man who was soon to die, was also hurt badly by what the judge said, as if she was the one to die. But she said nothing; and a voice inside her so strongly told her that it was her job to make his leaving as easy as possible, that it quickly lifted her above even that awful pain.

Because there was a show being planned for outside the court, and because the judges were to be part of it, the court closed. The noise of people leaving the room by many doors had not yet ended when Lucie stood, reaching her arms out toward her husband, with nothing in her face but feelings of love for him.

"Could I just touch him? Could I give him one last hug? Oh, good countrymen, will you please show us that much kindness?"

There was only one guard left, two of the men who had taken him the night before, and Barsad. The people had all left for the street show. Barsad said to the others, "Let her hug him; it'll only take a minute.” The others said nothing against it, and even helped her over the seats to a place near the stage, where he could lean over the counter between them and hold her in his arms.

"Goodbye, sweet love of my soul. My last words to you, my love: We will meet again, where the tired all find rest!"

That was what her husband said as he hugged her.

"I can go through this, sweet Charles. God is helping me; do not feel sad for me. Do you have a last word for our child?"

"I send it to her by you. I kiss her by you. I say goodbye to her by you."

"My husband. No! One more second!" He was pulling himself away from her. "We will not be separated for long. I feel that this will soon kill me, but I'll do what I can for her for now, and when I leave, God will find friends for her as he did for me."

Her father had followed her and fell on his knees to both of them, but Darnay put his hand out and grabbed him, crying, "No, no!

What have you done that you should have to bow before us? We know now what you went through in the past. We know now what you went through when you learned who my family was. We know now how hard it must have been for you not to hate me, and you did it all for her. We thank you with all our hearts and with all of our love. God be with you!"

Her father's only answer was to push his hands through his white hair and to squeeze them together with a high cry of pain.

"It could not be other than this," said the prisoner. "All things have been leading to this. I had been trying, without luck, to do as my mother had asked when I first met you. Good could never come from such an evil start. A happier ending would not be right. Be encouraged, and forgive me. God bless you!"

As he was pulled away, his wife let him go and stood looking after him with her hands touching one another like she was praying. She had a loving look on her face, in which there was even a little smile to make him feel better. As he went through the prisoners' door, she put her head lovingly on her father's chest, tried to speak, and then fell at his feet.

Hurrying from that quiet corner of the room where he had been sitting since he arrived, Sydney Carton came over and lifted her up. Only her father and Mr. Lorry were with her. His arm was shaking as he lifted her and held her head. Yet there was a spirit about him that was not at all feeling sad for her. It was more like he was proud of her.

"Should I carry her to the coach? I'll never feel her weight."

He carried her to the door, and put her down softly in a coach. Her father and Mr. Lorry climbed in, and he sat up with the driver.

When they arrived at the gate, where he had waited in the dark not many hours before, thinking to himself about which of the rough stones her feet had stepped on, he lifted her again and carried her up the steps to the rooms. There he put her down on a couch, where her child and Miss Pross cried over her.

"Don't try to wake her," he said softly to Miss Pross. "She is better off sleeping now. She has only fainted."

"Oh Carton, Carton, my good Carton!" cried little Lucie, jumping up and throwing her arms lovingly around him, as she broke into tears. "Now that you are here, I think you will do something to help my mum and daddy! Look at her, Carton! Does it hurt you to see her like this?"

He leaned over the child and put her cheek against his face. He then pushed her back and looked at her sleeping mother.

"Before I go," he said, and then waited... "Can I kiss her?"

It was remembered after that, that when he leaned down and touched her face with his lips, he whispered some words. The child, who was closest to him, told them later, and told her grandchildren when she was a beautiful old woman, that she heard him say, "A life you love."

When he was in the next room, he turned quickly to Mr. Lorry and her father, who were following him, and said to her father:

"You had great effect just yesterday, Doctor Manette; try again now. These judges, and all those in power here, are very friendly to you. They see what good work you've done, do they not?"

"They kept nothing about Charles secret from me. I had their promise that I could save him; and I did.” He gave the answer with much trouble, and he spoke very slowly.

"Try them again. The hours between now and tomorrow afternoon are few and short, but do try."

"I plan to try. I will not rest one minute."

"That's good. I've known of people like yourself working hard and doing great things before now... Never," he added, with a smile and a deep breathing out, "anything so great as this, but do try! When life is not used well, it is worth very little, so at least try. It costs nothing to give away a life that has not been used well."

"I will go," said Doctor Manette, "straight to the government lawyer and the President, and to others whom it is better not to name. I will write too, and... but wait! There is a show going on in the streets, and I will not be able to talk to anyone until dark."

"That's true. It is a last hope at best, and not much worse for being put off until it is dark. But I would like to know how it goes. I am not counting on anything. When do you think you could see these powerful men, Doctor Manette?"

"When it's dark... not more than an hour or two from now."

"It will be dark soon after four. Let us give you more than an hour or two. If I go to Mr. Lorry's at nine, will I be able to learn then how it went, either from our friend or from you?"

"Yes."

"Good luck!"

Mr. Lorry followed Carton to the outside door and, touching him on the shoulder as he was leaving, made him turn around.

"I have no hope," said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sad whisper.

"I don't either."

"If any one of these men... or even if all the them could be talked into saving him -- which is very difficult to believe, because his life is of no interest to them -- I do not think they would act, because of the feeling they saw in the crowd in the court."

"I agree. I could hear the axe fall in the sound of the crowd."

Mr. Lorry put his arm on the door post and rested his face on it.

"Don't be so sad," said Carton very softly. "Don't be sad. I encouraged Doctor Manette to try because I believed that one day it would make her feel better to know that he tried. If not, she might one day think that her father's whole life had been wasted, and that could trouble her."

"Yes, yes, yes," returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes. "You're right. But he will perish all the same. There is no real hope."

"Yes, he will perish. There is no real hope," Carton returned. And he walked with clear, strong steps down to the gate.



12. Darkness

Sydney Carton waited for a while in the street, not sure where to go. "Tellson's at nine," he said, thinking. "Is it wise to show my face before then? I think so. It is best that these people know that there is such a man here; it is a good way to prepare them. But I must be very careful. Let me think it out!"

He had already started in a special direction when he stopped and turned around to think about what could be the effects of his plan. On thinking, he reasoned that the plan was a good one. "It is best," he said, now strongly in agreement with the plan, "that these people should know that there is such a man here.” And he turned his face toward Saint Antoine.

Defarge had said in court that day that he owned a wine shop in Saint Antoine. It was not difficult for one who knew the city well, to find his house without asking. Having worked out where it was, Carton stopped at a restaurant for dinner, after which he fell asleep. For the first time in many years, he had no strong drink with his meal. Since the night before, he had only taken a little light wine. The night before he had poured the strong drink at Mr. Lorry's in the fireplace, a little at a time, making Mr. Lorry think that he was drinking it.

By seven o'clock he was awake again, and feeling good, so he returned to the streets. As he walked through the streets toward Saint Antoine, he stopped at a shop window where there was a mirror, and he moved his tie to make it straight. He did the same with his coat, and with his wild hair. When he was finished, he walked straight to Defarge's and went in.

There were no other people drinking there apart from Jack Three, the one with a rough voice and fingers that always moved around his mouth. He had been part of the jury, and now he was talking with the Defarges as he stood drinking at the counter. The Punisher was there too, like she was part of the business now.

As Carton walked in, took a seat, and asked (in very poor French) for a small measure of wine, Madam Defarge looked with little interest in his direction. Then she looked again, and then a third time with much interest. She walked up to him and asked what it was that he had asked for.

He repeated what he had already said.

"Are you English?” asked Madam Defarge, lifting her dark eyebrows to show her interest.

After looking at her as if the sound of even one French word was difficult for him to understand, he answered with a strong English sound to his words, "Yes, Madam, yes. I am English!"

Madam Defarge returned to her counter to get the wine, and he took up a magazine written by a leader in the fight to start the new government. As he acted like it was very difficult for him to read and understand the magazine, he could hear her saying, "I'm telling you the truth, he looks just like Evremonde!"

Defarge brought the wine and said good evening in French.

"How?"

"Good evening."

"Oh!

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