Two Cities

Chapter 40 Rising Flames
The village from which the spring flowed has changed.The road mender still goes there every day to knock stones on the road to earn a few pieces of bread to support his family, so that his ignorant soul may not leave his emaciated body.The prison on the top of the cliff is not as majestic as it was a few days ago.There were still soldiers guarding, but fewer in number.There were also officers who were in charge of the soldiers, but didn't know what the soldiers were going to do--only that they might do something out of the ordinary.

The dilapidated countryside stretches on all sides.There is nothing else but barrenness.Every green leaf, every blade of grass, every leaf of crop is shriveled and wretched like the wretched people.Everything is hunched over, decadent, stressed, dying.Houses, fences, livestock, men, women, children, and the land responsible for them—all have lost their spirit and strength.

Your lords, who were once the most noble gentlemen, were also once important figures in the country.They were courteous models of a life of luxury and splendor, they brought a chivalry to everything, and they played a great part in other similar matters.As a class, the Lord Sirs have added color to the luxurious life in various forms.It is strange that the beautiful world designed for the Lord Sir should be strangled and squeezed dry in such a short time!Eternal plans are undoubtedly short-sighted!But that's how it is.The last drop of blood of the poor has been drained, the last screw of the torture instrument has been used many times, and the victim has collapsed. Now the screw is used back and forth, and it can no longer bite anything.The grown-ups had no choice but to run as far away from this unfortunate and unexplainable phenomenon.

But this village and many similar villages have not changed.For many years, the adults only squeezed and squeezed the village, and rarely visited it in person, except when hunting for fun—sometimes he caught people, sometimes he caught animals.And for the ferocious beasts, the adults left a large piece of land for their growth, and let it go to waste.No, the change in the village does not lie in the lack of noble, statue-like, blessed and blessed faces, but in the addition of some humble and unfamiliar faces.

During this period, the mender of roads worked alone in the dust.He seldom bothered to consider the truth that from the dust he came, and to dust he will return.He was more concerned about the lack of dinner, how much he could eat if there was something to eat—at this period, when he raised his head from his lonely labor and looked ahead, he would always see a savage figure walking come forward.This phenomenon used to be rare, but now it is common.When the figure stepped forward, the road mender would find that it was a tall, hairy man like a savage, and the wooden shoes on his feet were too ugly for the road mender.The man was fierce, rough, and dark, covered with the wind-dust and mud of so many high roads, soaked with the dampness of many lowland marshes, and covered with brambles and leaves and moss from forest back roads.

At noon on that July day, there was such a person walking towards him like a monster.At that time, he was sitting on a rock pile under a steep wall trying to avoid a hailstorm.

The man looked at him, at the village in the valley, at the windmill, at the prison on the top of the cliff, and having recognized these objects in his unfamiliar mind, he said in a dialect he could barely understand:
"How's it going, Jacques?" "Good, Jacques." "Shake hands, that's it!" The two shook hands.The man sat down on a pile of stones. "No lunch?"

"There's only supper now," said the mender of roads, with an air of empty stomach.

"It's customary not to eat lunch now," the man grunted. "No one I meet anywhere eats lunch."

He took out a black pipe, filled it with cigarettes, lit it with a scythe, and drew out a red light. Then he took it away suddenly, and pinched something into it with his thumb and forefinger. The thing ignited and turned into a stream of green cigarette.

"Shake hands, then," said the mender of roads after seeing the scene.The two shook hands again.

"Tonight?" said the mender of roads. "Yes," said the man, putting the pipe to his mouth. "where?"

"Here." He and the repairman sat on the stone, looking at each other silently.The hailstones flew between them, as if the bayonets of Lilliputian were attacking.The sky over the village was finally sunny.

"Show me!" So the traveler came to the top of the mountain and said. "Look!" answered the mender of roads, pointing. "Go down here, straight across the street, past the spring—" "To hell with it all!" the man cut off his words, his eyes fixed on the scene. "I don't walk by the street, I don't walk by the spring. How then?"

"Well! There's a road on the hilltop side of the village, about two leagues." "Okay. When do you get off work?"

"At sunset." "Wake me up before you leave work? I've been gone for two nights without sleep. I'm going to fall asleep like a child when I'm done smoking. Will you wake me up?"

"Of course." The passenger finished smoking the pot of cigarettes, put the pipe in his arms, took off his big wooden shoes, lay down on the pile of stones, and immediately fell asleep.The mender of roads went to his dusty work.At this time, the cloud that was pregnant with hail rolled and dispersed, revealing a trace of blue sky, and the scenery also flashed with brilliance.Now the little road mender who has replaced the blue hat with the red hat seems to be fascinated by the figure on the stone pile, and his eyes often turn to him. Although the tools in his hands are working like robots, they seem to be of little use. .The man's black skin, messy beard and hair, rough red wool cap, poor clothes made of a mixture of baize and wild animal skins, a strong figure emaciated because of poverty, and sullen and fierce sleep. Keeping your mouth shut, these make the mender of roads respectful.Passengers have traveled a lot, their feet are worn out, and their ankles are wounded and bleeding.His huge wooden shoe was stuffed with leaves and grass.These shoes are really heavy after walking such a long distance.There were many holes in his clothes and many wounds on his body.The mender of roads bent down to find the secret weapon he had tucked in his chest or somewhere else, but couldn't see it, because he slept with his arms folded over his chest, tightly pressed, much like his closed lips.In the eyes of road menders, the tall and deep city's fences, outposts, gates, trenches, and suspension bridges cannot stop this person.When he looked up at the horizon and his surroundings, he saw in his faint vision that many figures similar to this man were rushing desperately towards the central cities of France.

The man continued to sleep soundly.The hailstones fell one after another, the sun and darkness changed on his face, the ice beads hit his body with popping sounds, and were turned into diamonds by the sun, but he ignored it.The sun finally set, reflecting a sunset glow, and the road mender packed up his tools and planned to go down the mountain and return to the village, which woke him up.

"Good!" said the sleeping man, propping himself up on his elbows. "Two leagues over the top of the hill?"

"About two." "About two. Good!"

The road mender went home, dust flying in front of him because of the direction of the wind.He soon came to the spring, squeezed into the herd of lean cows led there to drink, and talked to the whole village, and it seemed that even the cows had told the news.Instead of climbing into bed according to their usual habit after their scant supper, the villagers came out and stayed there quietly spreading an unusual news.When the people in the village gathered by the spring in the dark, another strange wait-and-see movement spread: everyone looked at the sky in the same direction, as if waiting for something.Mr. Garber, the main local official, was in a hurry. He climbed onto his roof alone and looked in the same direction.He hid behind the chimney again and quietly watched the faces in the darkness by the spring below the house, and at the same time notified the sacristy who was in charge of the keys of the church that the bell might need to be rung later.

As the night deepened, the wind blew, and the woods that surrounded and lonely the old house and made it dark began to sway before the wind, as if threatening the dark and towering building.The raindrops frantically ran up the two rows of steps like a anxious messenger, knocking on the huge door, as if to wake the people inside.A frenzied gust of wind blew into the hall, scratched the ancient spears and knives, and blew up the stairs with a whistling, blowing the curtain beside the bed where the last Marquis slept, four heavy-legged and disheveled men Passing through the woods from east to west, north to south, trampled down the long grass, broke the dead branches, and carefully came to the yard, lit four fires there, and then separated.Then everything went back to darkness.

But the darkness was short, and at once the mansion illuminated itself strangely with its own light, as if it were about to become a luminous body.Then a flame of sparking flames arose behind the front buildings, and emerged from the light, illuminating balusters, arches, and windows, and then the flames rose higher and higher, spreading and brightening on all sides.Soon flames burst from many of the large windows, and stone faces awoke to stare from the fire.

The few who remained on the estate, after a murmur, prepared horses, and some rode away.The sound of driving horses and splashing water cut across the darkness, and stopped by the spring in the village.The horse stood weakly at Mr. Garber's gate, "Mr. Garber, put out the fire! Call everyone to put out the fire!" The alarm bell rang urgently, but no other help came (even if there was, it didn't come) .The mender of roads and his 250 life-and-death acquaintances stood with arms folded by the spring, looking at the pillar of fire in the sky. "It must be forty feet high," they said coldly, but did not move.

Riders and feeble horses from the house rushed through the village up the stone steps to the prison door on the cliff.A group of officers watched the fire in front of the door, and a group of soldiers was far away from them. "Sir, sir, put out the fire! The manor is burning, and you can get some valuables if you go early! Put out the fire! Put out the fire!"

The officer looked at the soldier, but the soldier looked at the fire.There was no order, and everyone was helpless, "I had to burn it!"

The village was brightly lit up as the riders clattered down the hill and through the streets.The mender of roads and 250 close friends had an inspiration that is common to a man and a woman: light a candle to celebrate.They rushed into the house, and lighted candles behind every dark little pane.There is a general shortage of items here, and everyone can't wait to borrow them from Mr. Garber.The lawyer was unwilling, and hesitated for a while, but the road repairer who used to be respected in front of the authority said at this time: "It's fun to smash the carriage and make a bonfire, and the stage horse can also be grilled and eaten!"

The mansion was inadvertently set ablaze and burned down.The fire was howling, and the scorching wind was blowing out of the merciless sea of ​​flames, seeming to destroy the mansion.The incandescent flames jumped and flew, illuminating the stone-carved human face as if it was enduring torture.Large chunks of stone and timber collapsed.The mutilated stone face on the nose had been buried, but then emerged from the fireworks, evidently the face of the cruel Marquis, burning at the stake, maddened by the flames.

The mansion is burning.Nearby trees scorched and shrank as soon as they were licked by the flames.After the forest in the distance was set on fire by those four terrible people, it surrounded the burnt mansion with a new forest of smoke.Melted lead and iron boiled in the fountain's marble basin, drying up the spring.The spire of the tower like a candle extinguisher melted quickly before the high temperature, dripping down and turning into four strange pools of fire.The hard walls burst in dendritic streaks of crystallization, bursting powerful gaps and fissures.Birds passed out, whirled through the air and fell into the furnace.Four ferocious figures strode here and there along the dark-shrouded path in the beacon light they made, toward new goals.The village illuminated by the fire has taken away the alarm bell, and drove away the prescribed bell ringer, and he rang happily himself.

This was not enough, and the village, stunned by famine, fire and bells, remembered that Mr. Garber still had to collect rent taxes, and was eager to negotiate with him, although Mr. Garber only charged a small installment tax these days, while the ground rent and house rent Then nothing was collected.They surrounded his house and summoned him to come out and talk face to face.Mr. Garber had to close the door tightly and hide to find a way.The result of the consideration was to hide again on the roof behind the chimney.This time he learned the hard way, and if the door was broken open, he would fall from the roof and catch one or two people to die with him (he was a southerner, small in stature, but very vengeful).

Mr. Garber spent a sleepless night on the roof.He may have thought the distant mansion for candles, and the knocking of doors and the merry chiming of bells for music.Not to mention the ill-illuminated street lamp swinging by the side of the street in front of his post station, the villagers once clamored for him to exchange places with the street lamp.He spent a whole summer night on the verge of black death, ready to fall down with the determination of the plan!That feeling of uneasiness is very challenging.But at last the merciful dawn came, and the rush candles in the village were snapped out, and the people dispersed joyfully.Mr. Garber temporarily lost his life and descended to the ground.

During those nights, several large fires burned within a hundred miles.

Some of the officials there were not so lucky.When the sun came out, they were hanging in the once quiet street where they had been born and raised.There are also country or city dwellers who are less fortunate than the road mender and his companions.Officers and soldiers fought back and also hung them up.But the ferocious people still go forward bravely, moving firmly in the east, west, north and south.Whoever is hanged, the same fire will be set.No matter what mathematical formula the officials used, they could not figure out how high the gallows would have to be to turn into water and put out the fire.

(End of this chapter)