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ht have done to a mouse……and silently and posedly looked at him while they made ready； and while he besought her： the women passionately screeching at him all the time； and the men sternly calling out to have him killed with grass in his mouth。 Once； he went aloft； and the rope broke； and they caught him shrieking； twice； he went aloft； and the rope broke； and they caught him shrieking； then； the rope was merciful； and held him； and his head was soon upon a pike； with grass enough in the mouth for all Saint Antoine to dance at the sight of。 Nor was this the end of the day's bad work； for Saint Antoine so shouted and danced his angry blood up； that it boiled again； on hearing when the day closed in that the son…in…law of the despatched； another of the people's enemies and insulters； was ing into Paris under guard five hundred strong； in cavalry alone。 Saint Antoine wrote his crimes on flaring sheets of paper； seized him……would have torn him out of the breast of an army to bear Foulon pany……set his head and heart on pikes； and carried the three spoils of the day； in Wolf…procession； through the streets。
Not before dark night did the men and women e back to the children； wailing and breadless。 Then； the miserable bakers' shops were beset by long files of them； patiently waiting to buy bad bread； and while they waited with stomachs faint and empty； they beguiled the time by embracing one another on the triumphs of the day； and achieving them again in gossip。 Gradually； these strings of ragged people shortened and frayed away； and then poor lights began to shine in high windows； and slender fires were made in the streets； at which neighbours cooked in mon； afterwards supping at their doors。
Scanty and insufficient suppers those； and innocent of meat； as of most other sauce to wretched bread。 Yet； human fellowship infused some nourishment into the flinty viands； and struck some sparks of cheerfulness out of them。 Fathers and mothers who had had their full share in the worst of the day； played gently with their meagre children； and lovers； with such a world around them and before them； loved and hoped。
It was almost morning； when Defarge's wine…shop parted with its last knot of customers； and Monsieur Defarge said to madame his wife； in husky tones； while fastening the door：
‘At last it is e； my dear！'
‘Eh well！' returned madame。 ‘Almost。'
Saint Antoine slept； the Defarges slept： even The Vengeance slept with her starved grocer； and the drum was at rest。 The drum's was the only voice in Saint Antoine that blood and hurry had not changed。 The Vengeance； as custodian of the drum； could have wakened him up and had the same speech out of him as before the Bastille fell； or old Foulon was seized； not so with the hoarse tones of the men and women in Saint Antoine's bosom。
CHAPTER XXIII
Fire Rises
THERE was a change on the village where the fountain fell； and where the mender of roads went forth daily to hammer out of the stones on the highway such morsels of bread as might serve for patches to hold his poor ignorant soul and his poor reduced body together。 The prison on the crag was not so dominant as of yore； there were soldiers to guard it； but not many； there were officers to guard the soldiers； but not one of them knew what his men would do……beyond this： that it would probably not be what he was ordered。
Far and wide lay a ruined country； yielding nothing but desolation。 Every green leaf； every blade of grass and blade of grain； was as shrivelled and poor as the miserable people。 Everything was bowed down； dejected； oppressed； and broken。 Habitations； fences； domesticated animals； men； women； children； and the soil that bore them……all worn out。
Monseigneur （often a most worthy individual gentleman） was a national blessing； gave a chivalrous tone to things； was a polite example of luxurious and shining life； and a great deal more to equal purpose； nevertheless； Monseigneur as a class had； somehow or other； brought things to this。 Strange that Creation； designed expressly for Monseigneur； should be so soon wrung dry and squeezed out！ There must be something short…sighted in the eternal arrangements； surely Thus it was； however； and the last drop of blood having been extracted from the flints； and the last screw of the rack having been turned so often that its purchase crumbled； and it now turned and turned with nothing to bite； Monseigneur began to run away from a phenomenon so low and unaccountable。
But； this was not the change on the village； and on many a village like it。 For scores of years gone by； Monseigneur had squeezed it and wrung it； and had seldom graced it with his presence except for the pleasures of the chase……now； found in hunting the people； now； found in hunting the beasts； for whose preservation Monseigneur made edifying spaces of barbarous and barren wilderness。 No。 The change consisted in the appearance of strange faces of low caste； rather than in the disappearance of the high…caste； chiseled； and otherwise beatified and beatifying features of Monseigneur。
For； in these times； as the mender of roads worked； solitary； in the dust； not often troubling himself to reflect that dust he was and to dust he must return； being for the most part too much occupied in thinking how little he had for supper and how much more he would eat if he had it……in these times； as he raised his eyes from his lonely labour； and viewed the prospect； he would see some rough figure approaching on foot； the like of which was once a rarity in those parts； but was now a frequent presence。 As it advanced； the mender of roads would discern without surprise； that it was a shaggy…haired man； of almost barbarian aspect； tall； in wooden shoes that were clumsy even to the eyes of a mender of roads； grim； rough； swart； steeped in the mud and dust of many highways； dank with the marshy moisture of many low grounds； sprinkled with the thorns and leaves and moss of many byways through woods。
Such a man came upon him； like a ghost； at noon in the July weather； as he sat on his heap of stones under a bank； taking such shelter as he could get from a shower of hail。
The man looked at him； looked at the village in the hollow； at the mill； and at the prison on the crag。 When he had identified these objects in what benighted mind he had； he said； in a dialect that was just intelligible：
‘How goes it； Jacques？'
‘All well； Jacques。'
‘Touch then！'
They joined hands； and the man sat down on the heap of stones。
‘No dinner？'
‘Nothing but supper now；' said the mender of roads； with a hungry face。
‘It is the fashion；' growled the man。 ‘I meet no dinner anywhere。'
He took out a blackened pipe； filled it； lighted it with flint and steel； pulled at it until it was in a bright glow： then； suddenly held it from him and dropped something into it from between his finger and thumb； that blazed and went out in a puff of smoke。
‘Touch then。' It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this time； after observing these operations。 They again joined hands。
‘To…night？' said the mender of roads。
‘To…night；' said the man； putting the pipe in his mouth。
‘Where？'
‘Here。'
He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently at one another； with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy charge of bayonets； until the sky began to clear over the village。
‘Show me！' said the traveller then； moving to the brow of the hill。
‘See。' returned the mender of roads； with extended finger。 ‘You go down here； and straight through the street； and past the fountain………
‘To the Devil with all that！' interrupted the other； rolling his eye over the landscape。 ‘I go through no streets and past no fountains。 Well？'
‘Well！ About two leagues beyond the summit of that hill above the village。'
‘Good。 When do you cease to work？'
‘At sunset。'
‘Will you wake me； before departing？ I have walked two nights without resting。 Let me finish my pipe； and I shall sleep like a child。 Will you wake me？'
‘Surely。'
The wayfarer smoked his pipe out； put it in his breast； slipped off his great wooden shoes； and lay down on his back on the heap of stones。 He was fast asleep directly。
As the road…mender plied his dusty labour； and the hail…clouds； rolling away； revealed bright bars and streaks of sky which were responded to by silver gleams upon the landscape； the little man （who wore a red cap now； in place of his blue one） seemed fascinated by the figure on the heap of stones。 His eyes were so often turned towards it； that he used his tools mechanically； and； one would have said； to very poor account。 The bronze face； the shaggy black hair and beard； the coarse woollen red cap； the rough medley dress of home…spun stuff and hairy skins of beasts； the powerful frame attenuated by spare living； and the sullen and desperate pression of the lips in sleep； inspired the mender of roads with awe。 The traveller had travelled far； and his feet were footsore； and his ankles chafed and bleeding； his great shoes； stuffed with leaves and grass； had been heavy to drag over the many long leagues； and his clothes were chafed into holes； as he himself was into sores。 Stooping down beside him； the road…mender tried to get a peep at secret weapons in his breast or where not； but； in vain； for he slept with his arms crossed upon him； and set as resolutely as his lips。 Fortified towns with their stockades； guard…houses； gates； trenches； and drawbridges； seemed to the mender of roads； to be so much air as against this figure。 And when he lifted his eyes from it to the horizon and looked around； he saw in his small fancy similar figures； stopped by no obstacle； tending to centres all over France。
The man slept on； indifferent to showers of hail and intervals of brightness； to sunshine on his face and shadow； to the pattering lumps of dull ice on his body and the diamonds into which the sun changed them； until the sun was low in the west； and the sky was glowing。 Then； the mender of roads having got his tools together and all things ready to go down into the village； roused him。
‘Good！' said the sleeper； rising on his elbow。 ‘Two leagues beyond the summit of the hill？'
‘About。'
‘About。 Good！'
The mender of roads went home； with the dust going on before him according to the set of the wind； and was soon at the fountain； squeezing himself in among the lean kine brought there to drink； and appearing even to whisper to them in his whispering to all the village。 When the village had taken its poor supper； it did not creep to bed； as it usually did； but came out of doors again； and remained there。 A curious contagion of whispering was upon it； and also； when it gathered together at the fountain in the dark； another curious contagion of looking expectantly at the sky in one direction only。 Monsieur Gabelle； chief functionary of the place； became uneasy； went out on his house…top alone； and looked in that direction too； glanced down from behind his chimneys at the darkening faces by the fountain below； and sent word to the sacristan who kept the keys of the church； that there might be need to ring the tocsin by…and…by。
The night deepened。 The trees environing the old chateau； keeping its solitary state apart； moved in a rising wind； as though they threatened the pile of building massive and dark in the gloom。 Up the two terrace flights of steps the rain ran wildly； and beat at the great door； like a swift messenger rousing those within； uneasy rushes of wind went through the hall； among the old spears and knives； and passed lamenting up the stairs； and shook the curtains of the bed where the last Marquis had slept。 East； West； North； and South； through the woods； four heavy…treading； unkempt figures crushed the high grass and cracked the branches； striding on cautiously to e together in the courtyard。 Four lights broke out there； and moved away in different directions； and all was black again。
But； not for long。 Presently； the chateau began to make itself strangely visible by some light of its own； as though it were growing luminous。 Then； a flickering streak played behind the architecture of the front； picking out transparent places； and showing where balustrades； arches； and windows were。 Then it soared higher； and grew broader and brighter。 Soon； from a score of the great windows； flames burst forth； and the stone faces awakened； stared out of fire。
A faint murmur arose about the house from the few people who were left there； and there was a saddling of a horse and riding away。 There was spurring and splashing through the darkness； and bridle was drawn in the space by the village fountain； and the horse in a foam stood at Monsieur Gabelle's door。 ‘Help； Gabelle！ Help； every one！' The tocsin rang impatiently； but other help （if that were any） there was none。 The mender of roads； and two hundred and fifty particular friends； stood with folded arms at the fountain； looking at the pillar of fire in the sky。 ‘It must be forty feet high；' said they； grimly； and never moved。
The rider from the chateau； and the horse in a foam； clattered away through the village； and galloped up the stony steep； to the prison on the crag。 At the gate； a group of officers were looking at the fire； removed from them； a group of soldiers。 ‘Help； gentlemen…officers！ The chateau is on fire； valuable objects may be saved from the flames by tim