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
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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 himby accidenta day and a 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 winebut, he took
less than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to
whom it was no rarityand 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 f