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He could now assure Lucie that her husband was no longer
confined alone, but was mixed with the general body of prisoners;
he saw her husband weekly, and brought sweet messages to her,
straight from his lips; sometimes her husband himself sent a letter
to her (though never by the Doctor’s hand), but she was not
permitted to write to him: for, among the many wild suspicions of
plots in the prisons, the wildest of all pointed at emigrants who
were known to have made friends or permanent connections

This new life of the Doctor’s was an anxious life, no doubt; still, the
sagacious Mr. Lorry saw that there was a new sustaining pride in
it. Nothing unbecoming tinged the pride; it was a natural and
worthy one; but he observed it as a curiosity. The Doctor knew,
that up to that time, his imprisonment had been associated in the
minds of his daughter and his friend, with his personal affliction,
deprivation, and weakness. Now that this was changed, and he
knew himself to be invested through that old trial with forces to
which they both looked for Charles’s ultimate safety and
deliverance, he became so far exalted by the change, that he took
the lead and direction, and required them as the weak, to trust to
him as the strong. The preceding relative positions of himself and
Lucie were reversed, yet only as the liveliest gratitude and
affection could reverse them, for he could have had no pride but in
rendering some service to her who had rendered so much to him.
“All curious to see,” thought Mr. Lorry, in his amiably shrewd
way, “but all natural and right; so, take the lead, my dear friend,
and keep it; it couldn’t be in better hands.” But, though the Doctor
tried hard, and never ceased trying, to get Charles Darnay set at
liberty, or at least to get him brought to trial, the public current of
the time set too strong and fast for him. The new era began; the
king was tried, doomed, and beheaded; the Republic of Liberty,
Equality, Fraternity, or Death, declared for victory or death against
the world in arms; the black flag waved night and day from the
great towers of Notre Dame; three hundred thousand men,
summoned to rise against the tyrants of the earth, rose from all the
varying soils of France, as if the dragon’s teeth had been sown
broadcast, and had yielded fruit equally on hill and plain, on rock,
in gravel, and alluvial mud, under the bright sky of the South and
under the clouds of the North, in fell and forest, in the vineyards
and the olive-grounds and among the cropped grass and the
stubble of the corn, along the fruitful banks of the broad rivers, and
in the sand of the sea-shore.
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