Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous feature
of his, until midday. It was high noontide, when two dusty men passed through
his streets and under his swinging lamps: of whom, one was Monsieur Defarge:
the other a mender of roads in a blue cap. All adust and athirst, the two
entered the wine-shop. Their arrival had lighted a kind of fire in the breast
of Saint Antoine, fast spreading as they came along, which stirred and
flickered in flames of faces at most doors and windows. Yet, no one had followed
them, and no man spoke when they entered the wine-shop, though the eyes of
every man there were turned upon them.
`Good-day, gentlemen!' said Monsieur
Defarge.
It may have been a signal for loosening the
general tongue. It elicited an answering chorus of `Good-day!'
`It is bad weather, gentlemen,' said
Defarge, shaking his head. Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and
then all cast down their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up and
went out.
`My wife,' said Defarge aloud, addressing
Madame Defarge: `I have travelled certain leagues with this good mender of
roads, called Jacques. I met him--by accident--a day an half's journey Out of
Paris. He is a good child, this mender of roads, called Jacques. Give him to
drink, my wife!'
A second man got up and went out. Madame
Defarge set wine before the mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue
cap to the company, and drank. In the breast of his blouse he carried some
coarse dark bread; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking
near Madame Defarge's counter. A third man got up and went out.
Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of
wine--but, he took less than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man
to whom it was no rarity--and stood waiting until the countryman had made his
breakfast. He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not even
Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work.
`Have you finished your repast, friend?' he
asked, in due season.
`Yes, thank you.'
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