第75章BOOKTHESECOND：THEGOLDENTHREAD(58)

第75章bookthesecond：thegoldenthread(58)

ofallthesecries，andtenthousandincoherencies，'theprisoners！'wasthecrymosttakenupbytheseathatrushedin，asiftherewereaneternityofpeople，aswellasoftimeandspace.whentheforemostbillowsrolledpast，bearingtheprisonofficerswiththem，andthreateningthemallwithinstantdeathifanysecretnookremainedundisclosed，defargelaidhisstronghandonthebreastofoneofthesemen—amanwithagreyhead，whohadalightedtorchinhishands—separatedhimfromtherest，andgothimbetweenhimselfandthewall.

'showmethenorthtower！'saiddefarge.'quick！'

'iwillfaithfully，'repliedtheman，'ifyouwillcomewithme.butthereisnoonethere.'

'whatisthemeaningofonehundredandfive，northtower？'askeddefarge.'quick！'

'themeaning，monsieur？'

'doesitmeanacaptive，oraplaceofcaptivity？ordoyoumeanthatishallstrikeyoudead？'

'killhim！'croakedjacquesthree，whohadcomecloseup.

'monsieur，itisacell.'

'showitme！'

'passthisway，then.'

jacquesthree，withhisusualcravingonhim，andevidentlydisappointedbythedialoguetakingaturnthatdidnotseemtopromisebloodshed，heldbydefarge'sarmasheheldbytheturnkey's.theirthreeheadshadbeenclosetogetherduringthisbriefdiscourse，andithadbeenasmuchastheycoulddotohearoneanother，eventhen：sotremendouswasthenoiseofthelivingocean，initsirruptionintothefortress，anditsinundationofthecourtsandpassagesandstaircases.allaroundoutside，too，itbeatthewallswithadeep，hoarseroar，fromwhich，occasionally，somepartialshoutsoftumultbrokeandleapedintotheairlikespray.

throughgloomyvaultswherethelightofdayhadnevershone，pasthideousdoorsofdarkdensandcages，downcavernousflightsofsteps，andagainupsteepedascentsofstoneandbrick，morelikedrywaterfallsthanstaircases，defarge，theturnkey，andjacquesthree，linkedhandandarm，wentwithallthespeedtheycouldmake.hereandthere，especiallyatfirst，theinundationstartedonthemandsweptby；butwhentheyhaddonedescending，andwerewindingandclimbingupatower，theywerealone.hemmedinherebythemassivethicknessofwallsandarches，thestormwithinthefortressandwithoutwasonlyaudibletotheminadull，subduedway，asifthenoiseoutofwhichtheyhadcomehadalmostdestroyedtheirsenseofhearing.

theturnkeystoppedatalowdoor，putakeyinaclashinglock，swungthedoorslowlyopen，andsaid，astheyallbenttheirheadsandpassedin—'onehundredandfive，northtower！'

therewasasmall，heavily-grated，unglazedwindowhighinthewall，withastonescreenbeforeit，sothattheskycouldbeonlyseenbystoopinglowandlookingup.therewasasmallchimney，heavilybarredacross，afewfeetwithin.therewasaheapofoldfeatherywood-ashesonthehearth.therewasastool，andtable，andastrawbed.therewerethefourblackenedwalls，andarustedironringinoneofthem.

'passthattorchslowlyalongthesewalls，thatimayseethem，'saiddefargetotheturnkey.

'stop！—lookhere，jacques！'

'a.m.！'creakedjacquesthree，ashereadgreedily.

'alexandremanette，'saiddefargeinhisear，followingtheletterswithhisswartforefinger，deeplyengrainedwithgunpowder.'andherehewrote'apoorphysician.'anditwashe，withoutdoubt，whoscratchedacalendaronthisstone.whatisthatinyourhand？acrowbar？giveitme！'

hehadstillthelinstockofhisguninhisownhand.hemadeasuddenexchangeofthetwoinstruments，andturningontheworm-eatenstoolandtable，beatthemtopiecesinafewblows.

'holdthelighthigher！'hesaid，wrathfully，totheturnkey.'lookamongthosefragmentswithcare，jacques.andsee！hereismyknife，'throwingittohim；'ripopenthatbed，andsearchthestraw.holdthelighthigher，you！'

withamenacinglookattheturnkeyhecrawleduponthehearth，and，peeringupthechimney，struckandprisedatitssideswiththecrowbar，andworkedattheirongratingacrossit.inafewminutes，somemortaranddustcamedroppingdown，whichheavertedhisfacetoavoid；andinit，andintheoldwood-ashes，andinacreviceinthechimneyintowhichhisweaponhadslippedorwroughtitself，hegropedwithacautioustouch.

'nothinginthewood，andnothinginthestraw，jacques？'

'nothing.'

'letuscollectthemtogether，inthemiddleofthecell.so！lightthem，you！'

theturnkeyfiredthelittlepile，whichblazedhighandhot.stoopingagaintocomeoutatthelow-archeddoor，theyleftitburning，andretracedtheirwaytothecourtyard；seemingtorecovertheirsenseofhearingastheycamedown，untiltheywereintheragingfloodoncemore.

theyfounditsurgingandtossing，inquestofdefargehimself.saintantoinewasclamoroustohaveitswine-shopkeeperforemostintheguarduponthegovernorwhohaddefendedthebastilleandshotthepeople.otherwise，thegovernorwouldnotbemarchedtothehoteldevilleforjudgment.otherwise，thegovernorwouldescape，andthepeople'sblood（suddenlyofsomevalue，aftermanyyearsofworthlessness）beunavenged.

inthehowlinguniverseofpassionandcontentionthatseemedtoencompassthisgrimoldofficerconspicuousinhisgreycoatandreddecoration，therewasbutonequitesteadyfigure，andthatwasawoman's.'see，thereismyhusband！'shecried，pointinghimout.'seedefarge！'shestoodimmovableclosetothegrimoldofficer，andremainedimmovableclosetohim；remainedimmovableclosetohimthroughthestreets，asdefargeandtherestborehimalong；remainedimmovableclosetohimwhenhewasgotnearhisdestination，andbegantobestruckatfrombehind；remainedimmovableclosetohimwhenthelong-gatheringrainofstabsandblowsfellheavy；wassoclosetohimwhenhedroppeddeadunderit，that，suddenlyanimated，sheputherfootuponhisneck，andwithhercruelknife—longready—hewedoffhishead.