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


297

answer for. If it had been otherwise-’” Carton looked at the pen
and saw it was trailing off into unintelligible signs.

Carton’s hand moved back to his breast no more. The prisoner
sprang up with a reproachful look, but Carton’s hand was close
and firm at his nostrils, and Carton’s left arm caught him round the
waist. For a few seconds he faintly struggled with the man who
had come to lay down his life for him; but, within a minute or so,
he was stretched insensible on the ground.

Quickly, but with hands as true to the purpose as his heart was,
Carton dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside,
combed back his hair, and tied it with the ribbon the prisoner had
worn. Then, he softly called, “Enter there! Come in!” and the Spy
presented himself.

“You see?” said Carton, looking up, as he kneeled on one knee
beside the insensible figure, putting the paper in the breast: “is
your hazard very great?”

“Mr. Carton,” the Spy answered, with a timid snap of his fingers,
“my hazard is not that, in the thick of business here, if you are true
to the whole of your bargain.” “Don’t fear me. I will be true to the
death.” “You must be, Mr. Carton, if the tale of fifty-two is to be
right. Being made right by you in that dress, I shall have no fear.”
“Have no fear! I shall soon be out of the way of harming you, and
the rest will soon be far from here, please God! Now, get assistance
and take me to the coach.” “You?” said the Spy nervously.

“Him, man, with whom I have exchanged. You go out at the gate
by which you brought me in?” “Of course.” “I was weak and faint
when you brought me in, and I am fainter now you take me out.
The parting interview has overpowered me. Such a thing has
happened here, often, and too often. Your life is in your own
hands. Quick! Call assistance!” “You swear not to betray me?” said
the trembling Spy, as he paused for a last moment.

“Man, man!” returned Carton, stamping his foot; “have I sworn by
no solemn vow already, to go through with this, that you waste the
precious moments now?

Take him yourself to the courtyard you know of, place him
yourself in the carriage, show him yourself to Mr. Lorry, tell him
yourself to give him no restorative but air, and to remember my
words of last night, and his promise of last night, and drive away!”
The Spy withdrew, and Carton seated himself at the table, resting
his forehead on his hands. The Spy returned immediately, with
two men.

“How, then?” said one of them, contemplating the fallen figure.
“So afflicted to find that his friend has drawn a prize in the lottery
of Sainte Guillotine?” “A good patriot,” said the other, “could
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