Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers

Help / FAQ

<- Previous | Table of Contents | Next -> Digital Library - A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens


leisurely walk round the carriage and leisurely mount the box, to
look at what little luggage it carries on the roof; the country-people
hanging about, press nearer to the coach doors and greedily stare
in; a little child, carried by its mother, has its short arm held out for
it, that it may touch the wife of an aristocrat who has gone to the

“Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned.”
“One can depart, citizen?” “One can depart. Forward, my
postilions! A good journey!” “I salute you, citizens.- And the first
danger passed!” These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he
clasps his hands, and looks upward. There is terror in the carriage,
there is weeping, there is the heavy breathing of the insensible

“Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to go
faster?” asks Lucie, clinging to the old man.

“It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them too
much; it would rouse suspicion.” “Look back, look back, and see if
we are pursued!” “The road is clear, my dearest. So far, we are not
pursued.” Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms,
ruinous buildings, dyeworks, tanneries, and the like, open country,
avenues of leafless trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us,
the soft deep mud is on either side. Sometimes, we strike into the
skirting mud, to avoid the stones that clatter us and shake us;
sometimes, we stick in ruts and sloughs there. The agony of our
impatience is then so great, that in our wild alarm and hurry we
are for getting out and running-hidingdoing anything but

Out of the open country, in again among ruinous buildings,
solitary farms, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, cottages in twos
and threes, avenues of leafless trees. Have these men deceived us,
and taken us back by another road? Is not this the same place twice
over? Thank Heaven, no. A village. Look back, look back, and see
if we are pursued! Hush! the posting-house.

Leisurely, our four horses are taken out; leisurely, the coach stands
in the little street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihood upon it
of ever moving again; leisurely, the new horses come into visible
existence, one by one; leisurely, the new postilions follow, sucking,
and plaiting the lashes of their whips; leisurely, the old postilions
count their money, make wrong additions, and arrive at
dissatisfied results. All the time, our overfraught hearts are beating
at a rate that would far outstrip the fastest gallop of the fastest
horses ever foaled.

At length the new postilions are in their saddles, and the old are
left behind.
<- Previous | Table of Contents | Next ->

All Contents Copyright © All rights reserved.
Further Distribution Is Strictly Prohibited.

About Us | Advertising | Contact Us | Privacy Policy | Home Page

In Association with