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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens


251

somebody fall, but only saw a man and a woman standing staring
at each other; the man with all the outward aspect of a Frenchman
and a thorough Republican; the woman, evidently English.

What was said in this disappointing anti-climax, by the disciples of
the Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, except that it was
something very voluble and loud, would have been as so much
Hebrew or Chaldean to Miss Pross and her protector, though they
had been all ears. But, they had no ears for anything in their
surprise. For, it must be recorded, that not only was Miss Pross lost
in amazement and agitation, but, Mr. Cruncher-though it seemed
on his own separate and individual account-was in a state of the
greatest wonder.

“What is the matter?” said the man who had caused Miss Pross to
scream; speaking in a vexed, abrupt voice (though in a low tone),
and in English.

“Oh, Solomon, dear Solomon!” cried Miss Pross, clapping her
hands again.

“After not setting eyes upon you or hearing of you for so long a
time, do I find you here!” “Don’t call me Solomon. Do you want to
be the death of me?” asked the man, in a furtive, frightened way.
“Brother, brother!” cried Miss Pross, bursting into tears. “Have I
ever been so hard with you that you ask me such a cruel question?”
“Then hold your meddlesome tongue,” said Solomon, “and come
out, if you want to speak to me. Pay for your wine, and come out.
Who’s this man?” Miss Pross, shaking her loving and dejected
head at her by no means affectionate brother, said through her
tears, “Mr. Cruncher.” “Let him come out too,” said Solomon.
“Does he think me a ghost?” Apparently, Mr. Cruncher did, to
judge from his looks. He said not a word, however, and Miss
Pross, exploring the depths of her reticule through her tears with
great difficulty paid for her wine. As she did so, Solomon turned to
the followers of the Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, and
offered a few words of explanation in the French language, which
caused them all to relapse into their former places and pursuits.
“Now,” said Solomon, stopping at the dark street coriner, “what do
you want?” “How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever
turned my love away from!” cried Miss Pross, “to give me such a
greeting, and show me no affection.” “There. Con-found it! There,”
said Solomon, making a dab at Miss Pross’s lips with his own.
“Now are you content?” Miss Pross only shook her head and wept
in silence.

“If you expect me to be surprised,” said her brother Solomon, “I
am not surprised; I knew you were here; I know of most people
who are here. If you really don’t want to endanger my existence-
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