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All this was seen in a moment, as the vision of a drowning man, or
of any human creature at any very great pass, could see a world if
it were there. They drew back from the window, and the Doctor
looked for explanation in his friend’s ashy face.

“They are,” Mr. Lorry whispered the words, glancing fearfully
round at the locked room, “murdering the prisoners. If you are
sure of what you say; if you really have the power you think you
have-as I believe you have-make yourself known to these devils,
and get taken to La Force. It may be too late, I don’t know, but let it
not be a minute later!” Doctor Manette pressed his hand, hastened
bareheaded out of the room, and was in the courtyard when Mr.
Lorry regained the blind.

His streaming white hair, his remarkable face, and the impetuous
confidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water,
carried him in an instant to the heart of the concourse at the stone.
For a few moments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmur,
and the unintelligible sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw
him, surrounded by all, and in the midst of a line of twenty men
long, all linked shoulder to shoulder, and hand to shoulder,
hurried out with cries of“Live the Bastille prisoner! Help for the
Bastille prisoner’s kindred in La Force!

Room for the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save the prisoner
Evremonde at La Force!” and a thousand answering shouts.

He closed the lattice again with a fluttering heart, closed the
window and the curtain, hastened to Lucie, and told her that her
father was assisted by the people, and gone in search of her
husband. He found her child and Miss Pross with her; but, it never
occurred to him to be surprised by their appearance until a long
time afterwards, when he sat watching them in such quiet as the
night knew.

Lucie had, by that time, fallen into a stupor on the floor at his feet,
clinging to his hand. Miss Pross had laid the child down on his
own bed, and her head had gradually fallen on the pillow beside
her pretty charge. O the long, long night, with the moans of the
poor wife! And O the long, long night, with no return of her father
and no tidings!

Twice more in the darkness the bell at the great gate sounded, and
the irruption was repeated, and the grindstone whirled and
spluttered. “What is it?” cried Lucie, affrighted. “Hush! The
soldiers’ swords are sharpened there,” said Mr. Lorry. “The place
is national property now, and used as a kind of armoury, my love.”
Twice more in all; but, the last spell of work was feeble and fitful.
Soon afterwards the day began to dawn, and he softly detached
himself from the clasping hand, and cautiously looked out again. A
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