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


79

get to bed. When his host followed him out on the staircase with a
candle, to light him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in
through its grimy windows. When he got out of the house, the air
was cold and sad, the dull sky overcast, the river dark and dim, the
whole scene like a lifeless desert. And wreaths of dust were
spinning round and round before the morning blast, as if the
desert-sand had risen far away, and the first spray of it in its
advance had begun to overwhelm the city.

Waste forces within him. and a desert all around, this man stood
still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying
in the wilderness before him, a mirage honourable ambition, self-
denial, and perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were
airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him,
gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope
that sparkled in his sight. A moment, and it was gone. Climbing to
a high chamber in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his
clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted
tears.

Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the
man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their
directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own
happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to
let it eat him away.
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