They turned into the wine-shop, which was closed (for it wasmidnight), and where Madame Defarge immediately took her post at herdesk, counted the small moneys that had been taken during herabsence examined the stock, went through the entries in the book, checked the serving man in every possibleway, and finally dismissed him to bed. Then she turned out thecontents of the bowl of money for the second time, and beganknotting them up in her handkerchief, in a chain of separate knots,for safe keeping through the night. All this while, Defarge, withhis pipe in his mouth, walked up and down, complacently admiring,but never interfering; in which condition, indeed, as to thebusiness and his domestic affairs, he walked up and down through life.

The night was hot, and the shop, close shut and surrounded by sofoul a neighbourhood, was ill-smelling. Monsieur Defarge's olfactorysense was by no means delicate, but the stock of wine smelt muchstronger than it ever tasted, and so did the stock of rum and brandyand aniseed. He whiffed the compound of scents away, as he put downhis smoked-out pipe.

"I tell thee," said madame, extending her right hand, foremphasis, "that although it is a long time on the road, it is on theroad and coming. I tell thee it never retreats, and never stops. Itell thee it is always advancing. Look around and consider the livesof all the world that we know, consider the faces of all the worldthat we know, consider the rage and discontent to which theJacquerie addresses itself with more and more of certainty every hour.Can such things last? Bah! I mock you."

"My brave wife," returned Defarge, standing before her with his heada little bent, and his hands clasped at his back, like a docile andattentive pupil before his catechist, "I do not question all this. Butit has lasted a long time, and it is possible- you know well, my wife,it is possible- that it may not come, during our lives."

"Hold!" cried Defarge, reddening a little as if he felt charged withcowardice; "I too, my dear, will stop at nothing."

"Yes! But it is your weakness that you sometimes need to see yourvictim and your opportunity, to sustain you. Sustain yourselfwithout that. When the time comes, let loose a tiger and a devil;but wait for the time with the tiger and the devil chained- not shown-yet always ready."

Madame enforced the conclusion of this piece of advice by strikingher little counter with her chain of money as if she knocked itsbrains out, and then gathering the heavy handkerchief under her arm ina serene manner, and observing that it was time to go to bed.

Next noontide saw the admirable woman in her usual place in thewine-shop, knitting away assiduously. A rose lay beside her, and ifshe now and then glanced at the flower, it was with no infraction ofher usual preoccupied air. There were a few customers, drinking or notdrinking, standing or seated, sprinkled about. The day was very hot,and heaps of flies, who were extending their inquisitive andadventurous perquisitions into all the glutinous little glasses nearmadame, fell dead at the bottom. Their decease made no impression onthe other flies out promenading, who looked at them in the coolestmanner (as if they themselves were elephants, or something as farremoved), until they met the same fate. Curious to consider howheedless flies are!- perhaps they thought as much at Court thatsunny summer day.

The summer light struck into the corner brilliantly in the earlierpart of the day; but, when the streets grew hot, the corner was inshadow, though not in shadow so remote but that you could see beyondit into a glare of brightness. It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful,a wonderful place for echoes, and a very harbour from the ragingstreets reenex.

There ought to have been a tranquil bark in such an anchorage, andthere was. The Doctor occupied two floors of a large still house,where several callings purported to be pursued by day, but whereoflittle was audible any day, and which was shunned by all of them atnight.

In a building at the back, attainable by a courtyard where aplane-tree rustled its green leaves, church-organs claimed to be made and likewise gold to be beaten by somemysterious giant who had a golden arm starting out of the wall ofthe front hall- as if he had beaten himself precious, and menaced asimilar conversion of all visitors. Very little of these trades, or ofa lonely lodger rumoured to live up-stairs, or of a dim coach-trimmingmaker asserted to have a counting-house below, was ever heard or seen.Occasionally, a stray workman putting his coat on, traversed the hall,or a stranger peered about there, or a distant clink was heardacross the courtyard, or a thump from the golden giant. These,however, were only the exceptions required to prove the rule thatthe sparrows in the plane-tree behind the house, and the echoes in thecorner before it, had their own way from Sunday morning untoSaturday night reenex.

Doctor Manette received such patients here as his old reputation,and its revival in the floating whispers of his story, brought him.His scientific knowledge, and his vigilance and skill in conductingingenious experiments, brought him otherwise into moderate request,and he earned as much as he wanted.

These things were within Mr. Jarvis Lorry's knowledge, thoughts, andnotice, when he rang the door-bell of the tranquil house in thecorner, on the fine Sunday afternoon reenex.