Two Cities

Chapter 15 Jackal
It was the age of binge drinking.The vast majority of people drink heavily.Time, however, has greatly changed the climate.It would be considered absurd at present to state plainly the amount of wine and mixes a man could drink in an evening at that time, and say that it did not in the least hinder his reputation as a gentleman. Ridiculously exaggerated.Law, a learned profession, is certainly not in the slightest inferior to other learned professions in terms of Dionysian inclinations.Mr. Stryver, who was on a rampage and rapidly building a larger and more lucrative business world, was as good in this as in every other way than his legal counterparts.

Mr. Stryver was particularly favored both at the Old Baylor and at the court.By this time he was beginning to enter the lower rung of the stairs he had ascended, cautiously but with great strides.At this time, the court and the old Baylor must especially open their eager arms and call out their favorites.Every day people saw Mr. Stryver's red face rushing out of a garden of wigs, like a huge sunflower unscrupulously crowding out a garden full of colorful companions, rushing towards the sun, towards the big court of the royal court. The judge flung himself in the face.

It was once observed by the court that Mr. Stryver, though eloquent, unscrupulous, and impulsive, lacked the ability to grasp the point from a mass of statements, which is so essential to the practice of law.However, he has made amazing progress in this area.The more business he got, the better his ability to grasp the essence.No matter how late he was drinking and drinking with Sidney Carton at night, in the morning he could always catch the point and explain it clearly.

Sidney Carton, the laziest and most unmotivated man, is Stryver's best friend.The two of them drank together from Hillary Day to Michaelmas would float a luxury ship.Wherever Stryver went to court, Carlton was there with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ceiling.Even when they were on the circuit together they drank late into the night as usual.There were also rumors that Carlton had been seen slumping back to his apartment in broad daylight drunk like a wild cat.In the end, people who were interested in the matter heard that, though Sidney Carton would never be a lion, he was a jackal who worked surprisingly well for Stryver, who did cases, worked, and acted The most important thing is that humble and humble role.

"It's ten o'clock, sir," said the hotel man, at the hour Carlton had asked him to wake him—"ten o'clock, sir."

"What is it?" "Ten o'clock, sir."

"What do you mean, ten o'clock in the evening?" "Yes, sir. The sir asked me to wake you up." "Ah, I remembered, very good, very good." He was confused, He still wanted to sleep a few times, but the people in the hotel countered him very cleverly - he kept poking the fire for 5 minutes.Carlton stood up, flicked his hat on, and went out.He turned into the Law Society building, turned twice on the road between the High Court sidewalk and the newspaper building, woke himself up, and turned into Stryver's room.

Stryver's staff member who had not been serving in such meetings had gone home, and it was Stryver himself who opened the door for him.He wore slippers and loose pajamas, with his chest open for comfort, and his eyes showed that rather indulgent, tired, haggard sign that can be found in every indulgent man of his class. can see.The same is true in the portraits of men from Jeffreys down, and can be seen through the various artistic veils in the portraits of every drunken age.

"You're a little late," said Stryver.

"It's about the same as usual. About half an hour late." They entered a dingy cabin, with rows of books and papers piled here and there, a fire burning brightly in the fireplace, and a kettle on the mantelpiece. Steaming.Among an ancient pile of papers was a table full of wine, brandy, rum, sugar, and lemons.

"I reckon you've had it, Sidney." "Two bottles tonight, I think. I had dinner with the day's client, or watched him eat it—all in all a Something happened!"

"By yourself, Sidney, that's a rare move. How did you come up with the idea? Where did it come from?"

"I thought he was pretty enough, but I thought, if I'm lucky, I can be like him."

Mr. Stryver laughed so hard that his premature belly quivered.

"You and your luck, Sidney! Go to work, go to work." The jackal unhappily loosened his clothes, went into the next room, brought in a large pitcher of cold water, a basin and a couple of piece of towel.He soaked the towel in water, twisted and wrung it, and wrapped it around his head in a scary way, then sat down at the table and said, "Okay, I'm ready!" "Not much refining tonight , database," said Mr. Stryver cheerfully, flipping through his papers. "How many?" "Only two." "Give me the hardest one first." "Here, Sidney. Let's get started!"

So the Lion sat down on one side of the wine-table with his back to the sofa and absorbed himself, while the Jackal sat down on the other side of the wine-table at his own table full of papers, with the bottle and glass at hand.Both of them stretched out their hands to the wine table from time to time, without any feeling of reluctance, but their methods were different.Lions often put their hands in their belts, lie on the sofa, look at the fire, or occasionally flip through files that don't have much weight.But the jackal frowned tightly, concentrated on its work, and didn't even look at the glass when it reached out—it usually took a minute or so to reach the glass and bring it to its lips.Two or three times the work was so difficult that the jackal had no choice but to stand up and re-soak the towel.He came back from his pilgrimage to the jug and washbasin, with the wet towel wrapped around his head, and he looked so grotesque beyond description.But he had a decent face, and he was so overwhelmed that it was ridiculous.

Finally, the jackal finally arranged a solid snack for the lion.The lion took it cautiously, picked and picked among them, and made no comment, and then the jackal came to help again.Having completely digested the refreshment, the Lion tucked his hands into his girdle again, and lay down, thinking deeply.So the jackal drank another large glass of wine, refreshed himself, moistened his throat, put a cold wet towel on his head, and began to prepare the second snack.In the same way this dessert was served to the Lion, and was not digested until the clock struck three o'clock in the morning.

"It's over, Sidney, and a big Five Flavors," said Mr. Stryver.

The jackal took the towel off his head (the towel was steaming again), he shook his head, yawned, shivered again, and went to pour the wine again.

"From all the circumstances you appear to have been quite sound in the presence of those few royal witnesses, Sidney."

"My mind always works, doesn't it?" "I have no objection to that. But what annoys you? Pour some five-flavored wine and put out the fire." The jackal grunted apologetically, and did as he did. .

"You're the Sidney Carton of Shrewsbury School," Stryver nodded at him, commenting on his present and past, "and the same Sidney Seesaw. , for a moment. One moment is full of energy, and the other moment is depressed!"

"Ah," replied the other, with a sigh, "yes! It's the same Sidney, and the same fate. At that time I also did homework for other students, but I seldom did my own homework."

"Then why not?" "God knows. Maybe I'm that kind of person, I think so." He sat with his hands in his pockets and his feet stretched out in front of him, looking into the fire.

"Carleton," said his friend, thrusting his chest out with an air of domineering air, as if the fireplace were a crucible for forging strong and tenacious characters, and for old Sidney at old Shrewsbury School. Carlton's unique gimmick of service was to thrust him into the furnace. "You can't bear your temper now, and you have always been unable to bear it before. Could it be that you just can't get motivated and have no goals. Look at me."

"Ah, how boring!" Sidney smiled more calmly and gently than before. "Stop pretending to be serious!"

"How do I do what I have done?" said Stryver. "How do I do it?"

"Part of it, I guess, was paying me to do a favor. But you ain't gotta point that at me, or scream into the air. You do what you have to do. You're always up front, I'm always right behind."

"I had to be in the front row. I wasn't born in the front row, was I?"

"I didn't have the chance to personally experience your birth ceremony, but I think you were born to sit in the front row." Carlton laughed when he said.Both of them laughed.

"Before Shrewsbury, after Shrewsbury, from Shrewsbury to now," Carlton went on, "you've been in your row, and I've been in my row. This row. Even in the student district of Paris, where classmates speak French together, learn some French law, and pick up some French rags, you always show your face, and I always hide my name."

"Then who's to blame?" "I swear on my soul, I can't quite say you're not to blame. You're always pushing and jostling and yelling and jostling, never stopping for a moment, and all my life I've had nothing but rust What chance is there for taking a break? Still, talking about your past at dawn will only bring you down. If you have something else to say, or I'm leaving."

"Then join me in a toast to the beautiful witness," said Stryver, raising his glass. "Are you in a better mood now?"

Evidently not, for he darkened again. "Beautiful witness," he whispered, looking down at his glass. "I have seen too many witnesses today and tonight. Who is the beautiful witness you speak of?"

"The doctor's daughter, as beautiful as the picture, Miss Manette." "Is she pretty?"

"Isn't it pretty?" "No."

"My God, the whole court adores her!" "To hell with the adoration of the court! Who made old Baylor a beauty judge? She's a blond-haired rag doll!" "You Don't you know, Sidney," Stryver looked at him brightly, and slowly ran his hand across his flushed face. "You know? At that time, I thought you were sympathetic to that golden hair doll! When there was something wrong with that golden hair doll, you noticed it right away."

"Immediately noticed something was wrong! Doll or not, a girl passed out within a yard or two of a man who could have seen it without binoculars. I could drink to you, but disagree on what Pretty or not. Now I don't want to drink any more, I'm going to rest."

By the time his master took him to the steps with a candle, and followed him down, the day had already looked coldly in through the filthy window.Carlton came outside the house, the air outside was cold and desolate, the sky was cloudy, the river was dark and blurry, and all the scenes were like a lifeless desert.The morning wind blows circles of dust and rolls, as if the yellow sand of the desert has risen into the sky in the distance, and its precursors have begun to attack the city and try to bury it.

There are all kinds of abandoned forces in his heart, surrounded by a desert, this person takes a quiet step, but stands still.For a brief moment he saw in the wilderness before him a mirage of glorious ambition, self-control, and tenacity.In that beautiful phantom city, there are illusory corridors, in which the God of Love and the God of Beauty are looking at him from afar.There are gardens full of ripe fruit of life.There is the lake of hope that sparkles in his eyes.But in an instant, they all disappeared without a trace.He climbed to a high room on the top of the stacked buildings, and threw himself on an unmade bed without taking off his clothes. The tears flowing on the pillow were speckled, still because of dampness.

The sun rises lonely and sad, and shines on a very poor man.That is a very talented and emotional person, but he has no way to display his talents and use talents and emotions to obtain happiness for himself.He was well aware of its harm, but he let it go, making himself gradually haggard.

(End of this chapter)