04-02-03-双城记 [10]
A few days later Defarge reported to his wife some news from his friend'Jacques' in the police.
'A new spy has been sent to Saint Antoine. His name is Barsad, John Barsad. He's English.'
'What does he look like
Do we know
'
'He's about forty years old, quite tall, black hair, thin face, ' said Defarge.
'Good, ' said his wife.'I'll put him on the list tomorrow. But you seem tired tonight. And sad.'
'Well, ' said Defarge, 'it is a long time.'
'It takes time to prepare for change. The crimes against the people of France cannot be revenged in a day.'
'But we may not live to see the end.'
'Even if that happens, ' replied Madame Defarge, 'we shall help it to come. But I believe that we shall see the day of our revenge against these hated noblemen.'
The next day a stranger came into the wine－shop. At once, Madame Defarge picked up a rose from the table and put it in her hair. As soon as they saw this, the customers stopped talking and, one by one, without hurrying, left the wine－shop.
'Good day, Madame, ' said the stranger.
'Good day, Monsieur, 'said Madame Defarge, but to herself she said, 'About forty years old, tall, black hair, thin face. Yes, I know who you are, Mr John Barsad.'
'Is business good
' asked the stranger.
'Business is bad, The people are so poor.' Madame Defarge looked over to the door.'Ah, here is my husband.'
'Good day, Jacques, 'said the spy.
'You're wrong, ' said Defarge, staring at him.'That's not my name. I am Ernest Defarge.'
'It's all the same, ' said the spy easily.'I remember something about you, Monsieur Defarge. You took care of Dr Manette when he came out of the Bastille.'
'That's true, ' said Defarge.
'Have you heard much from Dr Manette and his daughter
They're in England now.'
'No, not for a long time.'
She was married recently. Not to an Englishman, but to a Frenchman. It's quite interesting when you remember poor Gaspard. Miss Manette has married the nephew of the Marquis that Gaspard killed. Her new husband is really the new Marquis, but he prefers to live unknown in England. He's not a Marquis there, just Mr Charles Darnay.'
Monsieur Defarge was not happy at this news. When the spy had gone, he said to his wife, 'Can it be true
If it is, I hope that Miss Manette keeps her husband away from France.'
'Who knows what will happen
' replied Madame Defarge. 'I only know that the name of Evrémonde is in my list, and for good reason.' She went on calmly knitting, adding name after name to her list of the enemies of the people.
Time passed, and Madame Defarge still knitted. The women of Saint Antoine also knitted, and the thin hungry faces of Jacques and his brothers became darker and angrier. The noise of the coming storm in Paris was growing louder.
It began one summer day in the streets of Saint Antoine, around Defarge's wine－shop, with a great crowd of people. A crowd who carried guns, knives, sticks, even stones－anything that could be a weapon. An angry crowd who shouted and screamed, who were ready to fight and to die in battle.
'Friends and citizens！'shouted Defarge.'We are ready！To the Bastille！'The crowd began to move, like the waves of the sea.
'Follow me, women！'cried Madame Defarge. A long sharp knife shone brightly in her hand.'We can kill as well as any man！'
The living sea of angry people ran through Saint Antoine to the Bastille, and soon the hated prison was ringing with the noise of battle. Fire and smoke climbed up the high stone walls and the thunder of the guns echoed through the city.
Four terrible and violent hours. Then a white flag appeared above the walls and the gates were opened. The Bastille had been taken by the people of Paris！Soon the crowds were inside the building itself, and shouting'Free the prisoners！'But Defarge put his strong hand on the shoulder of one of the soldiers.
'Show me the North Tower. Take me to One Hundred and Five, North Tower！Quickly！'
'Follow me' said the frightened man, and Defarge and Jacques Three went with him through the dark prison, past heavy closed doors, up stone stairs, until they came to a low door. It was a small room, with dark stone walls and only one very small window, too high for anyone to look out. Defarge looked carefully along the walls.