Two Cities

Chapter 44 Secret Number (2)
"After you left France, new laws were introduced, Evremonde, and new standards of conviction." He smiled sternly, and his pen did not stop.

"I ask you to notice that I am not here under compulsion, but at the written request of a compatriot, and the letter is right in front of you. I only ask for a chance to do something without delay. This should be what I can Got it?"

"A fugitive has no right, Evermond." The answer was numb.The officer finished writing the official document, reread it, sprinkled sand and soaked up the ink, and handed it to Defarge, with the "secret number" written on it.

Defarge beckoned to the prisoner with an official letter, and told him to follow.The prisoner obeyed, and two armed patriots followed in a guard.

"Dr. Manette's son-in-law," Defarge asked in a low voice as they walked towards Paris. "You are the man? The doctor is a prisoner in the Bastille."

"Yes," replied Darnay, looking at him in amazement. "My name is Defarge, and I run a hotel in the Saint-Antoine district. You must have heard of me from others?" "My wife came to your house to pick up his father, didn't she?"

The word "wife" seemed to remind Defarge of something he didn't want to mention, and he suddenly said impatiently, "Speaking in the name of the newborn of France, the sharp lady of the guillotine, what is your reason for coming back to France? "

"I replied a minute ago, and you heard it. You should know I'm telling the truth, right?"

"It's the truth that doesn't benefit you," Defarge frowned, staring straight ahead.

"I'm really confused here. I'm not familiar with everything here. It's changed so much, so suddenly, so unfairly, that I don't understand it at all. Can you help me?"

"No," said Defarge, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "I just ask you one question, can you answer it?" "Maybe you can, it depends on the content of the question. Tell me!" "In the prison where I was sent to this wrongly, is there anyone who cares about my contact information with the outside world? "You will understand after a while."

"Wouldn't I be pre-condemned and buried there without my complaint?" "You'll know later. Even if it's what you say? Haven't others been buried in worse prisons before?" " "But it has nothing to do with me, citizen of Defarge." Defarge only glanced at him in reply, then fell silent and walked on.The longer he remained silent like this, the less there was hope of him softening a little - of course this was only Darnay's idea.So he hastened to say: "I must inform a gentleman now in Paris, Mr. Lorry of Tellson's Bank, that he should be informed of the very simple fact that I have been thrown into La Fosse. No judgment will be made. .This matter is of the utmost importance to me, and you ought to know more about it, citizen. Can you manage to do it?"

"I have nothing to do with you," replied Defarge obstinately. "I am only obliged to my country and people. I have sworn to work for them and against you. I will not do anything for you."

Charles Darnay felt that there was no point in pleading with him any more, and he had already stabbed him in the heart.They walked in silence, and he couldn't help but feel that the common people were no longer surprised by the prisoners walking on the street, and the children didn't even look at him.Several passers-by turned their heads to look.Several people shook their fingers at him, indicating that he was an aristocrat.It is no less rare for a well-dressed person to go to prison than a worker in overalls to go to a factory.In a narrow, dark, and dirty street they passed, an excited orator was telling the audience about the crimes that the king and royal family had committed against the people.He knew for the first time from the few words he heard from the man that the king was under house arrest and that there were no envoys from other countries in Paris—he had heard nothing on the road except in Povey.The guards and the general vigilance had completely isolated him.

He was well aware now that his situation was much worse than when he had left England, and he knew, of course, that the dangers around him were increasing rapidly, and increasing at an ever-increasing rate.He regretted not being able to plan for a few more days, and he might not come.In fact, the worry he had speculated from the situation just now was far less serious than what happened later.After all, I don't know how difficult the road ahead will be, and because I don't know, I still hope in a daze.In time, the days and nights of carnage would have left a colossal bloodstain on the harvest season.Those were things he hadn't thought of, just like what happened 10 years ago.He hardly even knew the name of the "newborn sharp daughter guillotine", nor did ordinary people.The terrorist activities that will appear soon may not even be able to be imagined by those who participated later.Even the darkest calculations of gentle hearts cannot estimate what the scene will be like.

He is very worried that he will be treated unfairly, suffer pain, and be separated from his wife and daughter. In his opinion, there is no way to recover these.But even further, he showed no fear.It was with such complicated feelings that he came to La Force Prison and entered the gloomy prison compound.A stout little door was opened by a man with a swollen face, and Defarge handed him "Evremond the Fugitive." "Damn it! How come there are so many escapees!" cried the man with the puffy face.

Defarge ignored him, took the receipt, and left with the two patriots.

"I repeat, hell!" said the warden, alone with his wife, "how much more!"

The warden's wife didn't know how to respond, so she just said, "Be patient, dear!" The three guards she rang for called echoed the sentiment, with one saying, "Because I love myself." I really don't know what the basis is for making such a conclusion in such a place.

It was dark inside La Force Prison.It was dark and dirty, and because of this, there was a terrible stench from the bed.It's really strange that the whole prison can emit such a strong smell just because of poor management.

"A secret number again!" The warden muttered looking at the official document, "It seems that my place hasn't burst yet!"

Charles Darnay had to wait half an hour to appease him as he posted the document in the file in such a rage.Darnay sometimes walked up and down in the very strong room with arches, and sometimes rested on a stone seat, but he was not seen at all by the officer and his subordinates.

"Come!" The officer held the keychain in his hand, "Follow me, fugitive."

In the bleak twilight of the prison his new chief escorted him down the corridors and the steps, the doors closed one by one, and finally he came to a room full of male and female prisoners, the female prisoners sitting on a long table. Books, writing, knitting, sewing and embroidery at the table, doing things casually, while most of the male prisoners stood behind the chairs or wandered around the room.

The novice is all the more frightened among these people by instinctively associating the prisoner with shameful crime and disgrace.But after his bizarre long journey, there was a rather strange process: those people all stood up immediately, and received him with the most polite attitude and etiquette of that era.

The gloom and behavior of the prison prevent graceful gestures, making it impossible to show a place of existence in an environment of disproportionate squalor and misery.Charles Darnay appeared to be dead.Eyes full of ghosts!Ghosts of beauty, ghosts of stateliness, ghosts of elegance, ghosts of pomp, ghosts of wit, ghosts of youth, ghosts of old age, all lined up for disposal on the desolate banks, all turned to him Changed by death Those eyes—they came here dead.

He froze, maintaining his original posture.Although the warden standing beside him and the guards on the move can still see past when performing their tasks, but compared with these sad mothers and young daughters, they are not as good as the beautiful beauties, young women and well-educated Compared with the ghosts of well-bred, mature women and others, the difference is instantly revealed.Of all his experiences, this scene of shadowy figures culminated in his sense of vicissitudes.Make no mistake, it's all ghosts.Needless to say, that long and absurd journey was but a growing ailment which had brought him to the dark place he was now.

"I meet here in the name of my unfortunate companions," came forward a gentleman of the most cultivated style and speech, "to have the honor to welcome you to La Fosse, and to thank you for the misfortune that has fallen into our My sympathies are with you. I hope your danger will be resolved soon. It would be inappropriate to inquire about your surname and circumstances elsewhere, but could it be different here?"

Charles Darnay concentrated his attention and answered the questions carefully.

"I hope you're not a password?" said the man, staring at the warden as he paced up and down the room.

"I don't know what the word means, but I hear them call me that." "Oh, my God! What a pity! Don't be afraid, though, there are a few of us here who started out with passwords, but soon changed. ’ And then he said at the top of his voice, ‘I’m reluctant to tell you—code number.’”

After a murmur of sympathy, Charles Darnay crossed the house to a barred gate, where the warden awaited him.At this time, many voices expressed their good wishes and encouragement to him, among which the gentle voices of concern from the women were the most obvious.He turned around before the iron gate to show his thanks.The iron gate was closed by the warden, and the ghosts could no longer be seen in his eyes.

The small door leads to an ascending stone staircase.They walked a total of forty steps (the prisoner who sat for half an hour kept counting).The warden opened a low black door, and they entered an isolated cell.It was cold, damp, and chilly, but the light was good.

"Your," said the warden. "Am I imprisoned alone?" "I don't know." "Can I buy pens, ink, and paper?"

"There is no such item in the order from the superiors to me. Someone will come to visit you, and then you can make a request. You can only buy food now."

The cell contained a chair, a table and a straw bed.The warden registers the contents of the house before going out.At this moment, facing the prisoner leaning against the wall, he suddenly had a very strange idea: the warden's face was swollen, his whole body was swollen, and it was horribly swollen, like a drowned and bloated corpse.After the warden left, his thoughts did not stop, "I also seem to be dead, thrown here." He stopped in front of the straw, looked down for a while, and thought with disgust, "Dead After that, the body will be with these crawling creatures! This is the first state of death!"

"Five steps long, four and a half steps wide, keep chanting." The prisoner paced around the cell, counting his steps.The roar of the city was like a muffled drum, and there was a constant cry: "He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes." The mind followed the body to avoid the repeated words. "A horde of ghosts that disappear when the little door closes. One of them is a young woman in black, leaning against the funnel-shaped slope of the window, a light shining in her fair hair...For God's sake, we mount our horses and continue Go! Pass by the village where people are still sleeping! He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes... five steps long and four and a half steps wide." Some messy thoughts jumped out from the depths of my heart, It kept popping up in his mind.The prisoner walked faster and faster, he counted tenaciously, kept counting, the roar of the city changed—it was still rumbling like a muffled drum, but in the rising waves, it seemed that someone had heard the sound of.

(End of this chapter)