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“I know all, I know all,” said the last comer. “Be a brave man, my
Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than to
live. It has died in a moment without pain. Could it have lived an
hour as happily?” “You are a philosopher, you there,” said the
Marquis, smiling. “How do they call you?” “They call me
Defarge.” “Of what trade?” “Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of
wine.” “Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of wine,” said the
Marquis, throwing him another gold coin, “and spend it as you
will. The horses there; are they right?” Without deigning to look at
the assemblage a second time, Monsieur the Marquis leaned back
in his seat, and was just being driven away with the air of a
gentleman who had accidentally broke some common thing, and
had paid for it, and could afford to pay for it; when his ease was
suddenly disturbed by a coin flying into his carriage, and ringing
on its floor.

“Hold!” said Monsieur the Marquis. “Hold the horses! Who threw
that?” He looked to the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine
had stood, a moment before; but the wretched father was
grovelling on his face on the pavement in that spot, and the figure
that stood beside him was the figure of a dark stout woman,

“You dogs!” said the Marquis, but smoothly, and with an
unchanged front, except as to the spots on his nose: “I would ride
over any of you very willingly, and exterminate you from the
earth. If I knew which rascal threw at the carriage, and if that
brigand were sufficiently near it, he should be crushed under the
wheels.” So cowed was their condition, and so long and hard their
experience of what such a man could do to them, within the law
and beyond it, that not a voice, or a hand, or even an eye was
raised. Among the men, not one. But the woman who stood
knitting looked up steadily, and looked the Marquis in the face. It
was not for his dignity to notice it; his contemptuous eyes passed
over her, and over all the other rats; and he leaned back in his seat
again, and gave the word “Go on!” He was driven on, and other
carriages came whirling by in quick succession; the Minister, the
State-Projector, the Farmer-General, the Doctor, the Lawyer, the
Ecclesiastic, the Grand Opera, the Comedy, the whole Fancy Ball in
a bright continuous flow, came whirling by. The rats had crept out
of their holes to look on, and they remained looking on for hours;
soldiers and police often passing between them and the spectacle,
and making a barrier behind which they slunk, and through which
they peeped. The father had long ago taken up his bundle and
hidden himself away with it, when the women who had tended the
bundle while it lay on the base of the fountain, sat there watching
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