第10章BOOKTHEFIRST：RECALLEDTOLIFE(10)

第10章bookthefirst：recalledtolife(10)

ashrillsoundoflaughterandofamusedvoices—voicesofmen，women，andchildren—resoundedinthestreetwhilethiswinegamelasted.therewaslittleroughnessinthesport，andmuchplayfulness.therewasaspecialcompanionshipinit，andobservableinclinationonthepartofeveryonetojoinsomeotherone，whichled，especiallyamongtheluckierorlighter-hearted，tofrolicsomeembraces，drinkingofhealths，shakingofhands，andevenjoiningofhandsanddancing，adozentogether.whenthewinewasgone，andtheplaceswhereithadbeenmostabundantwererakedintoagridiron-patternbyfingers，thesedemonstrationsceased，assuddenlyastheyhadbrokenout.themanwhohadlefthissawstickinginthefirewoodhewascutting，setitinmotionagain；thewomanwhohadleftonadoor-stepthelittlepotofhotashes，atwhichshehadbeentryingtosoftenthepaininherownstarvedfingersandtoes，orinthoseofherchild，returnedtoit；menwithbarearms，mattedlocks，andcadaverousfaces，whohademergedintothewinterlightfromcellars，movedaway，todescendagain；andagloomgatheredonthescenethatappearedmorenaturaltoitthansunshine.

thewinewasredwine，andhadstainedthegroundofthenarrowstreetinthesuburbofsaintantoine，inparis，whereitwasspilled.ithadstainedmanyhands，too，andmanyfaces，andmanynakedfeet，andmanywoodenshoes.thehandsofthemanwhosawedthewood，leftredmarksonthebillets；andtheforeheadofthewomanwhonursedherbaby，wasstainedwiththestainoftheoldragshewoundaboutherheadagain.thosewhohadbeengreedywiththestavesofthecask，hadacquiredatigerishsmearaboutthemouth；andonetalljokersobesmirched，hisheadmoreoutofalongsqualidbagofanight-capthaninit，scrawleduponawallwithhisfingersdippedinmuddywine-lees—blood.

thetimewastocome，whenthatwinetoowouldbespilledonthestreet-stones，andwhenthestainofitwouldbereduponmanythere.

andnowthatthecloudsettledonsaintantoine，whichamomentarygleamhaddrivenfromhissacredcountenance，thedarknessofitwasheavy—cold，dirt，sickness，ignorance，andwant，werethelordsinwaitingonthesaintlypresence—noblesofgreatpowerallofthem；but，mostespeciallythelast.samplesofapeoplethathadundergoneaterriblegrindingandregrindinginthemill，andcertainlynotinthefabulousmillwhichgroundoldpeopleyoung，shiveredateverycorner，passedinandoutateverydoorway，lookedfromeverywindow，flutteredineveryvestigeofagarmentthatthewindshook.themillwhichhadworkedthemdown，wasthemillthatgrindsyoungpeopleold；thechildrenhadancientfacesandgravevoices；anduponthem，anduponthegrownfaces，andploughedintoeveryfurrowofageandcomingupafresh，wasthesign，hunger.itwasprevalenteverywhere.hungerwaspushedoutofthetallhouses，inthewretchedclothingthathunguponpolesandlines；hungerwaspatchedintothemwithstrawandragandwoodandpaper；hungerwasrepeatedineveryfragmentofthesmallmodicumoffirewoodthatthemansawedoff；hungerstareddownfromthesmokelesschimneys，andstartedupfromthefilthystreetthathadnooffal，amongitsrefuse，oranythingtoeat.hungerwastheiniononthebaker'sshelves，writtenineverysmallloafofhisscantystockofbadbread；atthesausage-shop，ineverydead-dogpreparationthatwasofferedforsale.hungerrattleditsdrybonesamongtheroastingchestnutsintheturnedcylinder；hungerwasshredintoatomiesineveryfarthingporringerofhuskychipsofpotato，friedwithsomereluctantdropsofoil.

itsabidingplacewasinallthingsfittedtoit.anarrowwindingstreet，fullofoffenceandstench，withothernarrowwindingstreetsdiverging，allpeopledbyragsandnightcaps，andallsmellingofragsandnightcaps，andallvisiblethingswithabroodinglookuponthemthatlookedill.inthehuntedairofthepeopletherewasyetsomewild-beastthoughtofthepossibilityofturningatbay.depressedandslinkingthoughtheywere，eyesoffirewerenotwantingamongthem；norcompressedlips，whitewithwhattheysuppressed；orforeheadsknittedintothelikenessofthegallows-ropetheymusedaboutenduring，orinflicting.thetradesigns（andtheywerealmostasmanyastheshops）were，all，grimillustrationsofwant.thebutcherandtheporkmanpainteduponlytheleanestscragsofmeat；thebaker，thecoarsestofmeagreloaves.thepeoplerudelypicturedasdrinkinginthewine-shops，croakedovertheirscantymeasuresofthinwineandbeer，andweregloweringlyconfidentialtogether.nothingwasrepresentedinaflourishingcondition，savetoolsandweapons；but，thecutler'sknivesandaxesweresharpandbright，thesmith'shammerswereheavy，andthegunmaker'sstockwasmurderous.thecripplingstonesofthepavement，withtheirmanylittlereservoirsofmudandwater，hadnofootways，butbrokeoffabruptlyatthedoors.thekennel，tomakeamends，randownthemiddleofthestreet—whenitranatall：whichwasonlyafterheavyrains，andthenitran，bymanyeccentricfits，intothehouses.acrossthestreets，atwideintervals，oneclumsylampwasslungbyaropeandpulley；atnight，whenthelamplighterhadletthesedown，andlighted，andhoistedthemagain，afeeblegroveofdimwicksswunginasicklymanneroverhead，asiftheywereatsea.indeedtheywereatsea，andtheshipandcrewwereinperiloftempest.

for，thetimewastocome，whenthegauntscarecrowsofthatregionshouldhavewatchedthelamplighter，intheiridlenessandhunger，solong，astoconceivetheideaofimprovingonhismethod，andhaulingupmenbythoseropesandpulleys，toflareuponthedarknessoftheircondition.but，thetimewasnotcomeyet；andeverywindthatblewoverfranceshooktheragsofthescarecrowsinvain，forthebirds，fineofsongandfeather，tooknowarning.