双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第8部分

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‘Of　it？　What？'
‘I　mean　of　him。　Of　my　father。'
Rendered　in　a　manner　desperate；　by　her　state　and　by　the　beckoning　of　their　conductor；　he　drew　over　his　neck　the　arm　that　shook　upon　his　shoulder；　lifted　her　a　little；　and　hurried　her　into　the　room。　He　set　her　down　just　within　the　door　and　held　her；　clinging　to　him。
Defarge　drew　out　the　key；　closed　the　door；　locked　it　on　the　inside；　took　out　the　key　again；　and　held　it　in　his　hand。　All　this　he　did；　methodically；　and　with　as　loud　and　harsh　an　acpaniment　of　noise　as　he　could　make。　Finally；　he　walked　across　the　room　with　a　measured　tread　to　where　the　window　was。　He　stopped　there；　and　faced　round。
The　garret；　built　to　be　a　depository　for　firewood　and　the　like；　was　dim　and　dark：　for　the　window　of　dormer　shape；　was　in　truth　a　door　in　the　roof；　with　a　little　crane　over　it　for　the　hoisting　up　of　stores　from　the　street：　unglazed；　anal　closing　up　the　middle　in　two　pieces；　like　any　other　door　of　French　construction。　To　exclude　the　cold；　one　half　of　thin　door　was　fast　closed；　and　the　other　was　opened　but　a　very　little　way。　Such　a　scanty　portion　of　light　was　admitted　through　these　means；　that　it　was　difficult；　on　first　ing　in；　to　see　anything；　and　long　habit　alone　could　have　slowly　formed　in　any　one；　the　ability　to　do　any　work　requiring　nicety　in　such　obscurity。　Yet；　work　of　that　kind　was　being　done　in　the　garret；　for；　with　his　back　towards　the　door；　and　his　face　towards　the　window　where　the　keeper　of　the　wine…shop　stood　looking　at　him；　a　white…haired　man　sat　on　a　low　bench；　stooping　forward　and　very　busy；　making　shoes。
CHAPTER　VI
The　Shoemaker
‘GOOD　DAY！'　said　Monsieur　Defarge；　looking　down　at　he　white　head　that　bent　low　over　the　shoemaking。
It　was　raised　for　a　moment；　and　a　very　faint　voice　responded　to　the　salutation；　as　if　it　were　at　a　distance：
‘Good　day！'
‘You　are　still　hard　at　work；　I　see？'
After　a　long　silence；　the　head　was　lifted　for　another　moment；　and　the　voice　replied；　‘Yes……I　am　working。'　This　time；　a　pair　of　haggard　eyes　had　looked　at　the　questioner；　before　the　face　had　dropped　again。
The　faintness　of　the　voice　was　pitiable　and　dreadful。　It　was　not　the　faintness　of　physical　weakness；　though　confinement　and　hard　fare　no　doubt　had　their　part　in　it。　Its　deplorable　peculiarity　was；　that　it　was　the　faintness　of　solitude　and　disuse。　It　was　like　the　last　feeble　echo　of　a　sound　made　long　and　long　ago。　So　entirely　had　it　lost　the　life　and　resonance　of　the　human　voice；　that　it　affected　the　senses　like　a　once　beautiful　colour　faded　away　into　a　poor　weak　stain。　So　sunken　and　suppressed　it　was；　that　it　was　like　a　voice　under…ground。　So　expressive　it　was；　of　a　hopeless　and　lost　creature；　that　a　famished　traveller；　wearied　Out　by　lonely　wandering　in　a　wilderness；　would　have　remembered　home　and　friends　in　such　a　tone　before　lying　down　to　die。
Some　minutes　of　silent　work　had　passed：　and　the　haggard　eyes　had　looked　up　again：　not　with　any　interest　or　curiosity；　but　with　a　dull　mechanical　perception；　beforehand；　that　the　spot　where　the　only　visitor　they　were　aware　of　had　stood；　was　not　yet　empty。
‘I　want；'　said　Defarge；　who　had　not　removed　his　gaze　from　the　shoemaker；　‘to　let　in　a　little　more　light　here。　You　can　bear　a　little　more？'
The　shoemaker　stopped　his　work；　looked　with　a　vacant　air　of　listening；　at　the　floor　on　one　side　of　him；　then　similarly；　at　the　floor　on　the　other　side　of　him；　then；　upward　at　the　speaker。
‘What　did　you　say？'
‘You　can　bear　a　little　more　light？'
‘I　must　bear　it；　if　you　let　it　in。'　（Laying　the　palest　shadow　of　a　stress　upon　the　second　word。）
The　opened　half…door　was　opened　a　little　further；　and　secured　at　that　angle　for　the　time。　A　broad　ray　of　light　fell　into　the　garret；　and　showed　the　workman　with　an　un…finished　shoe　upon　his　lap；　pausing　in　his　labour。　His　few　mon　tools　and　various　scraps　of　leather　were　at　his　feet　and　on　his　bench。　He　had　a　white　beard；　raggedly　cut；　but　not　very　long；　a　hollow　face；　and　exceedingly　bright　eyes。　The　hollowness　and　thinness　of　his　face　would　have　caused　them　to　look　large；　under　his　yet　dark　eyebrows　and　his　confused　white　hair；　though　they　had　been　really　otherwise；　but；　they　were　naturally　large；　and　looked　un…naturally　so。　His　yellow　rags　of　shirt　lay　open　at　the　throat；　and　showed　his　body　to　be　withered　and　worn。　He；　and　his　old　canvas　frock；　and　his　loose　stockings；　and　all　his　poor　tatters　of　clothes；　had；　in　a　long　seclusion　from　direct　light　and　air；　faded　down　to　such　a　dull　uniformity　of　parchment…yellow；　that　it　would　have　been　hard　to　say　which　was　which。
He　had　put　up　a　hand　between　his　eyes　and　the　light；　and　the　very　bones　of　it　seemed　transparent。　So　he　sat；　with　a　steadfastly　vacant　gaze；　pausing　in　his　work。　He　never　looked　at　the　figure　before　him；　without　first　looking　down　on　this　side　of　himself；　then　on　that；　as　if　he　had　lost　the　habit　of　associating　place　with　sound；　he　never　spoke；　without　first　pandering　in　this　manner；　and　forgetting　to　speak。
‘Are　you　going　to　finish　that　pair　of　shoes　to…day？'　asked　Defarge；　motioning　to　Mr。　Lorry　to　e　forward。
‘What　did　you　say？'
‘Do　you　mean　to　finish　that　pair　of　shoes　to…day？'　‘I　can't　say　that　I　mean　to。　I　suppose　so。　I　don't　know。'
But；　the　question　reminded　him　of　his　work；　and　he　bent　over　it　again。
Mr。　Lorry　came　silently　forward；　leaving　the　daughter　by　the　door。　When　he　had　stood；　for　a　minute　or　two；　by　the　side　of　Defarge；　the　shoemaker　looked　up。　He　showed　no　surprise　at　seeing　another　figure；　but　the　unsteady　fingers　of　one　of　his　hands　strayed　to　his　lips　as　he　looked　at　it　（his　lips　and　his　nails　were　of　the　same　pale　lead…colour）；　and　then　the　hand　dropped　to　his　work；　and　he　once　more　bent　over　the　shoe。　The　look　and　the　action　had　occupied　but　an　instant。
‘You　have　a　visitor；　you　see；'　said　Monsieur　Defarge。
‘What　did　you　say？'
‘Here　is　a　visitor。'
The　shoemaker　looked　up　as　before；　but　without　removing　a　hand　from　his　work。
‘e！'　said　Defarge。　‘Here　is　monsieur；　who　knows　a　well…made　shoe　when　he　sees　one。　Show　him　that　shoe　you　are　working　at。　Take　it；　monsieur。'
Mr。　Lorry　took　it　in　his　hand。
‘Tell　monsieur　what　kind　of　shoe　it　is；　and　the　maker's　name。'
There　was　a　longer　pause　than　usual；　before　the　shoe…maker　replied：
‘I　forget　what　it　was　you　asked　me。　What　did　you　say？'
‘I　said；　couldn't　you　describe　the　kind　of　shoe；　for　monsieur's　information？'
‘It　is　a　lady's　shoe。　It　is　a　young　lady's　walking…shoe。　It　is　in　the　present　mode。　I　never　saw　the　mode。　I　have　had　a　pattern　in　my　hand。'　He　glanced　at　the　shoe　with　some　little　passing　touch　of　pride。
‘And　the　maker's　name？'　said　Defarge。
Now　that　he　had　no　work　to　hold；　he　laid　the　knuckles　of　the　right　hand　in　the　hollow　of　the　left；　and　then　the　knuckles　of　the　left　hand　in　the　hollow　of　the　right；　and　then　passed　a　hand　across　his　bearded　chin；　and　so　on　in　regular　changes；　without　a　moment's　intermission。　The　task　of　recalling　him　from　the　vacancy　into　which　he　always　sank　when　he　had　spoken；　was　like　recalling　some　very　weak　person　from　a　swoon；　or　endeavouring；　in　the　hope　of　some　disclosure；　to　stay　the　spirit　of　a　fast…dying　man。
‘Did　you　ask　me　for　my　name？'
‘Assuredly　I　did。'
‘One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower。'
‘Is　that　all？'
‘One　Hundred　and　Five；　North　Tower。'
With　a　weary　sound　that　was　not　a　sigh；　nor　a　groan；　he　bent　to　work　again；　until　the　silence　was　again　broken。
‘You　are　not　a　shoemaker　by　trade？'　said　Mr。　Lorry；　looking　steadfastly　at　him。
His　haggard　eyes　turned　to　Defarge　as　if　he　would　have　transferred　the　question　to　him：　but　as　no　help　came　from　that　quarter；　they　turned　back　on　the　questioner　when　they　had　sought　the　ground。
‘I　am　not　a　shoemaker　by　trade？　No；　I　was　not　a　shoe…maker　by　trade。　I……I　learn't　it　here。　I　taught　myself。　I　asked　leave　to………'
He　lapsed　away；　even　for　minutes；　ringing　those　measured　changes　on　his　hands　the　whole　time。　His　eyes　came　slowly　back；　at　last；　to　the　face　from　which　they　had　wandered；　when　they　rested　on　it；　he　started；　and　resumed；　in　the　manner　of　a　sleeper　that　moment　awake；　reverting　to　a　subject　of　last　night。
‘I　asked　leave　to　teach　myself；　and　I　got　it　with　much　difficulty　after　a　long　while；　and　I　have　made　shoes　ever　since。'
As　he　held　out　his　hand　for　the　shoe　that　had　been　taken　from　him；　Mr。　Lorry　said；　still　looking　steadfastly　in　his　face：
‘Monsieur　Manette；　do　you　remember　nothing　of　me？'
The　shoe　dropped　to　the　ground；　and　he　sat　looking　fixedly　at　the　questioner。
‘Monsieur　Manette；'　Mr。　Lorry　laid　his　hand　upon　Defarge's　arm；　‘do　you　remember　nothing　of　this　man？　Look　at　him。　Look　at　me。　Is　there　no　old　banker；　no　old　business；　no　old　servant；　no　old　time；　rising　in　your　mind；　Monsieur　Manette？'
As　the　captive　of　many　years　sat　looking　fixedly；　by　turns；　at　Mr。　Lorry　and　at　Defarge；　some　long　obliterated　marks　of　an　actively　intent　intelligence　in　the　middle　of　the　fore…head；　gradually　forced　themselves　through　the　black　mist　that　had　fallen　on　him。　They　were　overclouded　again；　they　were　fainter；　they　were　gone；　but　they　had　been　there。　And　so　exactly　was　the　expression　repeated　on　the　fair　young　face　of　her　who　had　crept　along　the　wall　to　a　point　where　she　could　see　him；　and　where　she　now　stood　looking　at　him；　with　hands　which　at　first　had　been　only　raised　in　frightened　passion；　if　not　even　to　keep　him　off　and　shut　out　the　sight　of　him；　but　which　were　now　extending　towards　him；　trembling　with　eagerness　to　lay　the　spectral　face　upon　her　warm　young　breast；　and　love　it　back　to　life　and　hope……so　exactly　was　the　expression　repeated　（though　in　stronger　characters）　on　her　fair　young　face；　that　it　looked　as　though　it　had　passed　like　a　moving　light；　from　him　to　her。
Darkness　had　fallen　on　him　in　its　place。　He　looked　at　the　two；　less　and　less　attentively；　and　his　eyes　in　gloomy　abstraction　sought　the　ground　and　looked　about　him　in　the　old　way。　Finally；　with　a　deep　long　sigh；　he　took　the　shoe　up；　and　resumed　his　work。
‘Have　you　recognised　him；　monsieur？'　asked　Defarge　in　a　whisper。
‘Yes；　for　a　moment。　At　first　I　thought　it　quite　hope…less；　but　I　have　unquestionably　seen；　for　a　single　moment；　the　face　that　I　once　knew　so　well。　Hush！　Let　us　draw　further　back。　Hush！'
She　had　moved　from　the　wall　of　the　garret；　very　near　to　the　bench　on　which　he　sat。　There　was　something　awful　in　his　unconsciousness　of　the　figure　that　could　have　put　out　its　hand　and　touched　him　as　lie　stooped　over　his　labour。
Not　a　word　was　spoken；　not　a　sound　was　made。　She　stood；　like　a　spirit；　beside　him；　and　he　bent　over　his　work。
It　happened；　at　length；　that　he　had　occasion　to　change　the　instrument　in　his　hand；　for　his　shoemaker's　knife。　It　lay　on　that　side　of　him　which　was　not　the　side　on　which　she　stood。　He　had　taken　it　up；　and　was　stooping　to　work　again；　when　his　eyes　caught　the　skirt　of　her　dress。　He　raised　them；　and　saw　her　face。　The　two　spectators　started　forward；　hut　she　stayed　them　with　a　motion　of　her　hand。　She　had　no　fear　of　his　striking　at　her　with　the　knife；　though　they　had。
He　stared　at　her　with　a　fearful　look；　and　after　a　while　his　lips　began　to　form　some　words；　though　no　sound　proceeded　from　them。　By　degrees；　in　the　pauses　of　his　quick　and　laboured　breathing；　he　was　heard　to　say：
‘What　is　this？'
With　the　tears　streaming　down　her　face；　she　put　her　two　hands　to　her　lips；　and　kissed　them　to　him；　then　clasped　them　o