《A Tale of Two Cities》　Book3　CHAPTER
XIV The Knitting Done
　　　　by Charles Dickens

IN that same juncture of
time when the Fifty-Two awaited their fate, Madame Defarge held darklyominous council
with The Vengeance and Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Not in the wine-shop did
Madame Defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, erst a
mender of roads. The sawyer himself did not participate in the conference, but abided at a
little distance, like an outer satellite who was not to speak until required, or to offer
an opinion until invited.



`But our Defarge,' said Jacques Three, `is undoubtedly a good Republican? Eh?'



`There is no better,' the voluble Vengeance protested in her shrill notes, `in France.



`Peace, little Vengeance,' said Madame Defarge, laying her hand with a slight frown on her
lieutenant's lips, `hear me speak. My husband, fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a
bold man; he has deserved well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence. But my
husband has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctor.'



`It is a great pity,' croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking his head, with his cruel
fingers at his hungry mouth; `it is not quite like a good citizen; it is a thing to
regret.



`See you,' said madame, `I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He may wear his head or lose
it, for any interest I have in him; it is all one to me. But, the Evrémonde people are to be exterminated, and the wife and child
must follow the husband and father.'



`She has a fine head for it,' croaked Jacques Three. `I have seen blue eyes and golden
hair there, and they looked charming when Samson held them up.' Ogre that he was, he spoke
like an epicure.



Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little. `The child also,' observed
Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment of his words, `has golden hair and blue eyes.
And we seldom have a child there. It is a pretty sight!'



`In a word,' said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, `I cannot trust my
husband in this matter.



Not only do I feel, since last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my
projects; but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, and then
they might escape.



`That must never be,' croaked Jacques Three; `no one must escape. We have not half enough
as it is. We ought to have six score a day.'



`In a word,' Madame Defarge went on, `my husband has not my reason for pursuing this
family to annihilation, and I have not his reason for regarding this Doctor with any
sensibility. I must act for myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.



The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the submission, of mortal
fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap.



`Touching those signals, little citizen,' said Madame Defarge, sternly, `that she made to
the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them this very day?'



`Ay, ay, why not!' cried the sawyer. `Every day, in all weathers, from two to four, always
signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes without. I know what I know. I have
seen with my eyes.'



He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidentalimitation of some few
of the great diversity of signals that he had never seen.



`Clearly plots,' said Jacques Three. `Transparently!'



`There is no doubt of the Jury?' inquired Madame Defarge, letting her eyes turn to him
with a gloomy smile.



`Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my fellow-Jurymen.'



`Now, let me see,' said Madame Defarge, pondering again. `Yet once more! Can I spare this
Doctor to my husband? I have no feeling either way. Can I spare him?'



`He would count as one head,' observed Jacques Three, in a low voice. `We really have not
heads enough; it would be a pity, I think.'



`He was signalling with her when I saw her,' argued Madame Defarge; `I cannot speak of one
without the other; and I must not be silent, and trust the case wholly to him, this little
citizen here. For, I am not a bad witness.



The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their fervent protestations that
she was the most admirable and marvellous of witnesses. The little citizen, not to be
outdone, declared her to be a celestial witness.



He must take his chance,' said Madame Defarge. `No, I cannot spare him! You are engaged at
three o'clock; you are going to see the batch of to-day executed.--You?'



The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer, who hurriedly" title="ad.仓促地，忙乱地">hurriedly replied in the affirmative:
seizing the occasion to add that he was the most ardent of Republicans, and that he would
be in effect the most desolate of Republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the
pleasure of smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the droll national barber.
He was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have been suspected (perhaps was, by
the dark eyes that looked Contemptuously at him out of Madame Defarge's head) of having
his small individual fears for his own personal safety, every hour in the day.



`I,' said madame, `am equally engaged at the same place. After it is over-say at eight
to-night--come you to me, in Saint Antoine, and we will give information against these'
people at my section.'



The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the citizeness. The
citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, evaded her glance as a small dog would
have done, retreated among his wood, and hid his confusion over the handle of his saw.



Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance a little nearer to the door, and
there expounded her further views to them thus:



`She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death. She will be mourning and
grieving. She will be in a state of mind to impeach the justice of the Republic. She will
be full of sympathy with its enemies. I will go to her.'



`What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!' exclaimed Jacques Three, rapturously.
`Ah, my cherished!' cried The Vengeance; and embraced her.



`Take you my knitting,' said Madame Defarge, placing it in her lieutenant's hands, `and
have it ready for me in my usual seat. Keep me my usual chair. Go you there, straight, for
there will probably be a greater concourse than usual, to-day.'



`I willingly obey the orders of my Chief' said The Vengeance with alacrity, and kissing
her cheek. `You will not be late?'



`I shall be there before the commencement.'



`And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, my soul,' said The Vengeance,
calling after her, for she had already turned into the street, `before the tumbrils
arrive!'



Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard, and might be relied upon
to arrive in good time, and so went through tile mud, and round the corner of the prison
wall. The Vengeance and the Juryman, looking alter her as she walked

away, were highly appreciative of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments.



There were many women at that time, upon whom the time laid a dreadfully disfiguring hand;
but, there was not one among them more to be dreaded than this ruthless woman, now taking
her way along the streets. Of a strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and
readiness, of great determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to impart
to its possessor firmness and animosity, but to strike into others an instinctive
recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would have heaved her up, under any
circumstances. But, imbued from her childhood with a brooding sense of, wrong, and an
inveterate hatred of a class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was
absolutely without pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it had quite gone out of
her.



It was nothing to her, that an innocent man was to die for the sins of his forefathers;
she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that his wife was to be made a widow
and his daughter an orphan; that was insufficient punishment, because they were her
natural enemies and her prey, and as such had no right to live. To appeal to her, was made
hopeless by her having no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had been laid low in the
streets, in any of the many encounters in which she had been engaged, she would not have
pitied herself; nor, if she had been ordered to the axe to-morrow, would she have gone to
it with any softer feeling than a fierce desire to change places with the man who sent her
there.



Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe. Carelessly worn, it was a
becoming robe enough, in a certain weird way, and her dark hair looked rich under her
coarse red cap. Lying hidden in her bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden at her waist,
was a sharpened dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such a
character, and with the supple freedom of a woman who had habitually walked in her
girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown sea-sand, Madame Defarge took her way
along the streets.



Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment waiting for the
completion of its load, had been planned out last night, the difficulty of taking Miss
Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry's attention. It was not merely desirable to avoid

overloading the coach, but it was of the highest importance that the time occupied in
examining it and its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their escape might
depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. Finally, he had

proposed, after anxious consideration, that Miss Pross and Jerry, who were at liberty to
leave the city, should leave it at three o'clock in the lightest-wheeled conveyance known
to that period. Unencumbered with luggage, they would soon overtake the coach, and,
passing it and preceding it on the road, would order its horses in advance, and greatly
facilitate its progress during the precious hours of the night, when delay was the most to
be dreaded.



Seeing in this arrangement the hope of rendering real service in that pressing emergency,
Miss Pross hailed it with joy. She and Jerry had beheld the coach start, had known who it
was that Solomon brought, had passed some ten minutes in tortures of suspense, and were
now concluding their arrangements to follow the coach, even as Madame Defarge, taking her
way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the else-deserted lodging in which
they held their consultation.



`Now what do you think, Mr. Cruncher,' said Miss Pross, whose agitation was so great that
she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live: `what do you think of our not starting
from this court-yard? Another carriage having already gone from here to-day, it might
awaken suspicion.



`My opinion, miss,' returned Mr. Cruncher, `is as, you're right. Likewise wot I'll stand
by you, right or wrong.



`I am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures,' said Miss Pross,
wildly crying, `that I am incapable of forming any plan. Are you capable of forming any
plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?'



`Respectin' a future spear o' life, miss,' returned Mr. Cruncher, `I hope so. Respectin'
any present use o' this here blessed old head o' mine, I think not. Would you do me the
favour, miss, to take notice o' two promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in
this here crisis?'



`Oh, for gracious sake!' cried Miss Pross, still wildly crying, `record them at once, and
get them out of the way, like an excellent man.



`First,' said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with an ashy and
solemn visage, `them poor things well out o' this, never no more will I do it, never no
more!'



`I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher,' returned Miss Pross, `that you never will do it again,
whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it necessary to mention more particularly what
it is.'



`No, miss,' returned Jerry, `it shall not be named to you. Second: them poor things well
out o' this, and never no more will I interfere with Mrs. Cruncher's flopping, never no
more!'



`Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be,' said Miss Pross, striving to dry her eyes
and compose herself, `I have no doubt it is best that Mrs. Cruncher should have it
entirely under her own superintendence.--O my poor darlings!'



`I go so far as to say, miss, morehover,' proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with a most alarming
tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit--`and let my words be took down and took to Mrs.
Cruncher through yourself--that wot my opinions respectin' flopping has undergone a
change, and that wot I only hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at
the present time.'



There, there, there! I hope she is, my dear man,' cried the distracted Miss Pross, `and I
hope she finds it answering her expectations.'



`Forbid it,' proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with additional solemnity, additional slowness, and
additional tendency to hold forth and hold out, `as anything wot I have ever said or done
should be wisited on my earnest wishes for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we
shouldn't all flop (if it was anyways conwenient) to get `em out o' this here dismal risk!
Forbid it, miss! Wot I say, for--BID it!' This was Mr. Cruncher's conclusion after a
protracted but vain endeavour to find a better one.



And still Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.



`If we ever get back to our native land,' said Miss Pross, `you may rely upon my telling
Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remember and understand of what you have so
impressively said; and at all events you may be sure that I shall bear witness to your
being thoroughly in earnest at this dreadful time. Now, pray let us think! My esteemed Mr.
Cruncher, let us think!'



Still, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.



`If you were to go before,' said Miss Pross, `and stop the vehicle and horses from coming
here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn't that be best?'



Mr. Cruncher thought it might be best.



`Where could you wait for me?' asked Miss Pross.



Mr. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but Temple Bar. Alas!
Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame Defarge was drawing very near indeed.



`By the cathedral door,' said Miss Pross. `Would it be much out of the way, to take me in,
near the great cathedral door between the two towers?'