Two Cities

Chapter 37: Echoing Footsteps (1)
As I said before, the place where the doctor lives is a place with good echoes.Lucy was forever busy wrapping her husband, father, herself, and her old housekeeper and old pal in gold thread, and keeping them all living in peace and happiness.She often sits in the quiet but echoing room and listens to the footsteps of the years.

Although she is a young wife, she is [-]% happy, although the work in her hand sometimes falls, and her eyes sometimes dim.Because, among the echoes, there was always a feeling that something was coming towards her, some distant, almost inaudible footsteps knocked heavily on her heart.A wavering hope and question split her breast--hope, a hope of love she didn't know yet.Doubt, doubt that she could remain in the world to enjoy these new joys—she heard now, faintly among the echoes, the steps of her own premature death.Thoughts of her husband would be left alone, grieved for her, flooded her eyes and fell like waves.

The time passed and her little Lucy lay in her arms.However, in the echo of the progress, I heard the footsteps of the child's little feet and the voice of her just learning babble.Even if the huge echo reverberates freely, the young mother sitting by the cradle can always hear the footsteps and voices coming.They came, and the shady house was brightened with sunshine only by the laughter of a child, and that child's best friend God--to whom she spoke in her distress--always seemed to have her baby in her arms, and She was the same holding another child many years ago.This made it all a holy joy to her.

Lucy was always busy winding them together with gold wire.She weaves a net of happiness with her hard work, and spreads it in their lives, no more, no less, just right.All she heard in the long echoes were cares and comforts, in which her husband's steps were strong and strong, her father's steps firm and even, here Miss Pross's steps were like a horse's. The hooves of wild and unruly war horses, but she was restrained by a golden bridle and a lesson from the whip, so she had no choice but to snort and dig the dirt under the sycamore tree in the small courtyard!

Although there had been a sad voice before, it was neither harsh nor miserable.Her blond hair then hung on the pillow, surrounding the bloodless face of a little boy like a divine halo.The child smiled happily and said, "Dear Mom and Dad, I am very sad because I am leaving you and my beautiful sister. But I am called by God and I must go!" The soul was gone now, and not all the tears that wet her young mother's cheeks were bitter. "Let the little ones come to Me, don't stop them." They saw the face of the Father.Ah, Heavenly Father, I have received Your words of blessing!

In this way, the sound of the angel's wings beating is mixed with other echoes. The echoes are not necessarily the sounds of the world, but mixed with the smell of heaven.The sigh of the wind that blows through the garden graveyards is also mixed in the echo, and both are just low, like the breath of a sleeping peaceful sea in summer.Lucy could hear all this—while little Lucy was mischievously busy with her morning "work," or sitting at her mother's feet dressing dolls, using the two big words that mingled in her life. The language of the city croaked.

The echo's sound rarely reflected Sidney Carton's actual footsteps.He only had the privilege of coming uninvited five or six times a year at most, and when he did he would only sit between them for one night, as usual.He never comes drunk.There is also something from him echoing in the tone of the echo, which is a sincere echo, and it will always echo for thousands of years.

If a man really falls in love with a woman and loses her, but still understands her unmistakably after she becomes a wife and mother, and love remains the same as before, her children will always treat him differently Emotionally resonant - a kind of innate subtle affection.It is difficult for Echo to explain what kind of emotional perception is touched in this case.But that's exactly what happened.The same is true of Carlton here.Carlton was the first stranger to whom little Lucy stretched out his fat arms.He had always maintained this position throughout her growing up.The little boy mentioned it to him as he was nearing his deathbed. "Poor Carlton! Kiss him for me!"

Mr. Stryver bumped about the jurisprudence like a gigantic steamship plowing through the furious rapids, dragging his useful friend behind him like a boat.The boats that were so favored were always in disaster, and spent most of their time submerged, so Sidney had to live a miserable life.But unfortunately, habit can make a person lazy.It seemed lighter and more powerful to him than any thrilling sense of accomplishment or humiliation.So he went on living as he was now, with as little thought of getting rid of his position as a lion's jackal, any more than a real jackal would think of becoming a lion.Stryver was rich and married a beautiful widow, who brought a lot of wealth and three boys.The three children have nothing to be particularly proud of, just a few gnocchi heads with straight hair growing out.

Mr. Stryver had the air of the most infuriating master in every cell of his being.He had driven the three young masters ahead of him like animals to the quiet corner of Soho, and asked Lucy's husband to take them as pupils.He said with concern, "Hey! That's three cheese breads for your couple's picnic, Darnay!" But the three cheese breads were declined in return.Mr. Stryver was very angry, and he turned his anger into education when training the three young masters, telling them to be careful of that poor tutor in the future.He also had a habit of telling Mrs. Stryver, while drinking fine wine, that Mrs. Darnay had played tricks to "catch" him, but he had a trick of using diamonds for diamonds to make himself "catch". Free yourself from the bait".His acquaintances at the royal court sometimes drank with him, and forgave him when he told a lie, which he told so often that he believed it himself.He made a mistake and still insisted on not correcting it. If this kind of guy is taken to a quiet and secluded place and hanged quietly, he really deserves it.

These were the things Lucy heard as she mused and couldn't help smiling in her echo corner as her daughter grew to six.Needless to say, the footsteps of the child, the steady and rhythmic footsteps of the dear father, and the footsteps of the dear husband are closely connected with her heart.She guards the common home with her intelligence and morality, diligently and thriftly, and lives a life of abundance without waste.The slightest echo of this home was music to her.Then, the echoes around her were, needless to say, sweet words in her ears.Her father had told her several times that she had been better for him married than he had been single (if that was even possible).Her husband had told her several times that the chores and responsibilities of housework did not seem to distract her from her love and help, saying, "You take such good care of all of us as if we were alone, neither I feel too busy, but I don't feel too tired. Honey, do you have any magic tricks?"

But all the while there were other echoes rumbling majestically around the corner.But at this time, on the day of little Lucy's sixth birthday, the echo of the rumbling has gradually become terrible, just like the huge storm in France rushing with its raging sea waves.

One night in the middle of July, 780, it was getting late when Mr. Lorry came from Tellson.He sat down beside Lucy and her husband by the window at night.It was a hot night to come, and all three of them recalled that Sunday night long ago, when the three of them were also watching lightning in the same place.

"I feel now that I ought to spend the evening at Tellsons," said Mr. Lorry, throwing back his brown wig. "We were so busy during the day that we didn't know what to do. The political situation in Paris was very turbulent. Our trust business was actually overwhelmed, and the clients there seemed to want to entrust their property to us immediately. Some clients really went crazy. It is also prepared to send the property to England."

"The situation seems serious," Darnay said.

"You mean it seems a little serious, my dear Darnay? Yes, but we don't see any reason for seriousness. They're simply unreasonable! Some of us Tellsons are getting older, this unreasonable anomaly." It really overwhelmed us.”

"But," said Darnay, "the sky is so dark that it portends a storm, as you know."

"I do know," assented Mr. Lorry, murmuring with all his might that his kind temper was sour, "but I've been distracted all day, and I can't help being in a bad temper. Manette arrived. Where did it go?"

"Here," said the doctor just as he stepped into the dark room. "I'm glad you're home, the fuss and restlessness I've had all day has made me nervous for no reason, I hope you don't decide to go out?" "I don't want to go out. If you want, I want to be with you Playing dice," said the doctor.

"If I may be honest, I don't want the dice-throwing mood to be inappropriate for you. Is the tea tray still there, Lucy? I can't see it."

"Always prepared for you."

"Thank you, my dear. Did the boy sleep all right?" "Sleep soundly." "That's all right, all right! I don't see any reason why things can't be quiet here, thank God I've been tired all day and I'm not as strong as I used to be! My chana, dear? Thank you. Come, sit in the circle, let's sit quietly and listen to the echo. The echo you listen to and your theory."

"Not a theory, but a fantasy." "Well, my dear darling, it's a fantasy," said Mr. Lorry, clapping her hand, "but the echoes are so many and clear tonight, aren't they? Listen and see !"

While this small group of people sat in front of the dark windows in London, the distant St. Antoine district started with fast, crazy and dangerous steps, and broke into other people's lives.Once the footsteps are stained with blood, it is not easy to wash off.

That morning, the dark mass of the St. Antoine district was flooded with poor people.From time to time, light passed through the swaying man's head. It was a battle knife and bayonet shining in the sun.A high-pitched roar rose from the throat of St. Antoine, and the forest of bare arms swayed in the air like withered branches in the winter wind, and all hands clutched at the weapon, or something like it, however far away it might be.Weapons were thrown up from below.

Who threw it, where did it come from, where did it start, who threw it, and no one in the crowd saw it.Dozens of weapons at a time jumped out shaking and flashing, appearing above the heads of the crowd, like lightning.

There flashed muskets, bullets, gunpowder, shells, clubs, iron bars, knives, axes, spears.In short, all the weapons that a mad creative mind could find or design.Those who could get nothing else used the hands of the blood gorilla to dig stones and bricks from the walls.Every pulse and beat of St. Antoine's was fast and hot, like a fever.All the people there have gone mad, they have put their lives in disregard of life and death, and are determined to sacrifice their lives.

(End of this chapter)