diff --git a/README.md b/README.md index 561c902..2b0c284 100644 --- a/README.md +++ b/README.md @@ -1,6 +1,6 @@ # JavaArithmetic -Java练习算法代码(排序，数据结构，小算法练习题) +Java练习算法代码(排序，数据结构，小算法，LeetCode练习题) ## 一、sort文件夹是排序算法 @@ -16,8 +16,105 @@ Java练习算法代码(排序，数据结构，小算法练习题) - 希尔排序 - 堆排序 -## 二、tree文件夹是二叉树相关 ## 三、basic文件夹是基础相关 -Java简单的算法题，递归知识～ +Java简单的算法题，目前有20道 + +递归知识～ + +## 四、datastructure + +2018年9月25日更新，_old文件夹的是之前的(.. + + +## 五、LeetCode + +一些LeetCode的题目. + + +- No1：找出数组中能够组成sum的两个数的数组下标 + - 解法：使用Map来存储，如果发现`target-arr[i]`如果在Map中有数据，那返回下标即可 +- No3：求出数组能组成最大不重复元素的间隔 + - 解法：使用滑动窗口的思想，不停往前移动，每次移动一次时计算max值，最终返回的一定是符合条件的最大值 +- No7：反转整数 + - 解法：其实就是运用数学方法：`int pop = x % 10;x /= 10;rev = rev * 10 + pop;`。同时因为`res*10`可能会发生溢出，可以使用Math方法来判断一下：`if (rev > Integer.MAX_VALUE/10 || (rev == Integer.MAX_VALUE / 10 && pop > 7)) return 0;` +- No17： 9宫格，例如：输入123能够组合成哪些字母 + - 解法：将123..使用数组的方式来装载(类似于查表)，将输入的字符串123(digits)，从index开始，使用String s来记录每次可能得到的组合值。如果`index==digits.length`，说明已经是一种情况了。 +- No19：删除链表第n个元素，tips：删除链表元素最好使用一个dummyHead，这样就不用担心删除的是链表头了。使用方式：`dummyHead.next = head` + - 解法1：计算出链表的长度，`int k = length-n`，k的坐标就是要删除的位置了 + - 解法2：使用两个指针fast和slow，先让fast先走`n-1`个位置，然后两个指针同时走(直到fast==null)，最后，slow的下一个节点就是要删除的节点。 +- No20：检验字符串`[]{]}{]{}(`这样的字符串是否有效(对齐) + - 解法：使用Stack来存储`[{(`这些字符，如果是不是这些字符的话，则出栈，判断是否与`[{(`相匹配。 + - 可能遇到的边界问题：一、出栈时需要判断Stack是否有元素。二、所有元素进出栈完毕后，需要判断Stack是否为null +- No24：两两交换链表的节点 + - 解法：使用`p=dummyHead`，`while(p.next != null && p.next.next != null )`，找出接下来的三个节点，分别为node1,node2,next。做法很简单：node2指向node1，node1指向next，p指向node2,node1的位置由p取代 +- No47：数字全排列(回溯法) + - 解法：使用一个数组记录已经"走过"的数字，从`index=0`开始，当`index==nums.length`说明已经出现一个结果了。每次遍历一个数字时，判断是否已经"走过"，如果没有"走过"则设置为"走过"，并add到我们的结果中。回溯完了之后需要清除状态！ +- No51：八皇后问题(回溯法) + - 解决：其实与全排列的问题是一样的，解法也是一样的。只不过八皇后问题需要针对具体的条件来判断而已。规律就是这三个条件：`col[i] && !dia1[index + i] && !dia2[index - i + n - 1]` +- No75：给出只有`[0,1,2]`的数组，这个数组是乱序的，想要将其结果变成是`[0,1,2]`有序 + - 解决1：可能首先想到的是排序算法，排序算法的话时间复杂度最低控制在O(nlogn) + - 解决2：因为只有3个元素，其实我们可以创建出一个三个元素的数组，记录每个数字出现的频率，然后根据`0,1,2`的频率放回到数组里边去，这样就是有序的了。这个时间复杂度和空间复杂度都为O(n) + - 解决3：使用三路快排的思想，可以不用开辟多于的空间。具体实现就是0放在最左侧，1在中间，2在最右侧。 +- No77：求解C(n,k)的组合(回溯法) + - 解法：从1开始，只要`result.size()==k`则是一种组合，递归完记得要清除状态 +- No79：在n*m的“地图”中，是否存在有对应的路径找到对应的答案(回溯) + - 解法：使用一个二维数组来代表上下移动(遍历这个数组，即可实现)`int d[][] = {{-1, 0}, {0, 1}, {1, 0}, {0, -1}};`使用一个visited数组来代表这个“位置”是否已经被走过了。如果没有被走过，并且是当前的结果路径之一，则继续上下左右移动。直到当前的结果长度与index相等(递归出口) 。回溯完需要清除状态值 +- No96-144-145：遍历树 + - 解法1：使用递归的话就很容易前中后遍历数了。 + - 解法2：使用Stack来实现无递归的方式来遍历，要注意使用Stack时，什么时候push进去！因为跟递归的时候是相反的 +- No102：层序遍历树 + - 解法：使用队列的方式(linkedList)就很容易实现了 +- No104：树的最大深度 + - 解法：使用递归的方式，其实就一行代码` return 1 + Math.max(maxDepth(root.left), maxDepth(root.right));` +- No112：树根节点到叶节点的"和"路径是否存在 + - 解法：递归的出口就是-->叶子节点的值是否等于sum，递归调用`return hasPathSum(root.left, sum - root.val)|| hasPathSum(root.right, sum - root.val);` +- No113：求出树根节点到叶节点的"和"路径 + - 解法：相对于leetcode 112，它只是要求出对应的路径。我们可以使用一个list来记录路径，每次进入之前就add进去，递归完了之后就remove掉。其实就相当于回溯法 +- No167：找出数组中能够组成sum的两个数的数组下标，此时这个数组是有序的。 + - 跟第一题不同的是，此时的数组是有序的。 + - 解法1：使用二分的方式来搜索，找出对应的下标(此时的时间复杂度是O(nlogn) + - 解法2：使用滑动窗口的方式来搜索，因为l值是小的，r值是大的。如果l+r < target，l这边++即可！ +- No200：寻找"陆地"的个数，在n*m的数组中寻找出"陆地"(深度遍历) + - 解法：使用一个二维数组来实现移动`d[][] = {{0, 1}, {1, 0}, {0, -1}, {-1, 0}};`，使用`visited[][]`来记录已经走过的位置。 +- No203：在链表删除的节点 + - 解法1：使用dummyHead就不用再做其余的处理了 + - 解法2：使用递归的方式：`head.next = removeElements4(head.next, val);`，最后`head.val == val ? head.next : head;` +- No206：反转链表 + - 解法1：循环的方式；使用一个pre节点，找到next节点。`cur.next= pre; pre = cur; cur = next` + - 解法2：递归的方式；`ListNode rhead = reverseList2(head.next); head.next.next = head; head.next = null; return rhead;` +- No209：给出一个数组，给出一个target，求出数组的元素+起来的和>target的最短间隔 + - 解法：跟No3不同的是，No3着重于不重复元素的间隔，而这里着重于比较target的值。使用一个sum来维护，每次 +- No219：给出一个数组，在k的范围内，判断有没有重复的元素 + - 解法：使用HashSet来维护，如果在add之前发现已经重复了，返回true。当map的大小大于k+1,那就减去最左边的元素`if(record.size() == k + 1) record.remove(nums[i-k]);` +- No220：在距离当前位置为k的范围内，是否存在一个点的值与当前位置值的差的绝对值小于等于t。 + - 解法：在上一题中，主要是判断是否有重复值，而此道的条件是有无绝对值小于的等于t(在k范围内)。其实就是判断条件变化了，绝对值问题我们可以使用treeSet的ceiling方法：`if (record.ceiling((long) nums[i] - (long) t) != null &&record.ceiling((long) nums[i] - (long) t) <= (long) nums[i] + (long) t)` +- No226：反转树 + - 解法：使用递归，得到左边，得到右边。左右两边交换 +- No237：在链表删除元素为value的节点 + - 解法：找到给定值的节点，将找到的节点的下一个节点的值赋值给当前节点，删除掉下一个节点 +- No253：在二叉树找出p和q节点的最小公共祖先 + - 解法：p q 都在root左边`if (p.val < root.val && q.val < root.val) return lowestCommonAncestor(root.left, p, q);`...右边也是差不多的，如果在同一侧，直接返回root +- No257：求出二叉树的路径 + - 解法：当遍历到叶子节点时，此时加入根节点。否则递归求出左子树和右子树的路径 +- No260：给定一个整数数组 nums，其中恰好有两个元素只出现一次，其余所有元素均出现两次。 找出只出现一次的那两个元素 + - 解法：其实如果是恰好有一个元素只出现一次的话，我们可以直接异或就搞掂了。现在是两个元素只出现一次，解决其实也一样：对这些数据进行异或，得出一个sum-->`sum ^= nums[i];`，使用`sum &= -sum;`得出两个数异或结果的最右边的一个1，其他的为零，这样进行&操作就可以将两个不同的数分到不同的两组去。于是使用`int[] res = new int[2];`根据==0来区分两个组来异或，最后得出的结果就是res的值了！ +- No283：将数组的0移到最后，其余的元素顺序不发生改变 + - 解法1：使用一个新数组装载非0元素，将nums剩余的位置放置为0：`for(int i = nonZeroElements.size() ; i < nums.length ; i ++) nums[i] = 0;` + - 解法2：nums中, [0...k)的元素均为非0元素，只要遍历到的元素不为0，k++。 + - 解法3：使用交换的方式`for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) if(nums[i] != 0) if(k != i)swap(nums, k++, i); else k ++;` +- No347：求Top K 频率出现最高的元素 + - 解法：使用HashMap来记录每个元素出现的频率，然后使用小顶堆将其比较，如果当前pop出来的堆顶比当前遍历到的元素频率要小，则出队，换当前元素进去(注意，要维护当前堆只有k个元素的) +- No349：求两个数组的交集，只出现一次 + - 解法：将其中一个数组遍历，使用hashSet来存储。再将第二个数组遍历，判断当前元素是否存在HashSet中，如果存在则是其中一个结果 +- No350：求两个数组的交集，这次要求有多少个相同的，交集的结果也得有多少个 + - 解法：使用HashMap来计算频率，在遍历第二个数组的时候，根据频率来add到结果集中 +- No437：树根节点到其余树节点的"和"路径有多少条？ + - 解法：这跟之前那个有点区别，这不是规定到叶子节点上了，而是每个节点上都行！`return findPath(root, sum)+ pathSum(root.left, sum) + pathSum(root.right, sum);` +- No447：求出三个点距离的组合 + - 解法使用hashMap来存储起来合适的距离。求和的时候使用`res += record.get(dis) * (record.get(dis) - 1);`即可！ +- No454：求出四个数组的元素能够组成0的组合 + - 解法：计算C和D的sum，放入Map，如果sum重复的话，value加1(开辟空间来减少时间复杂度)。遍历AB的时候，算出具体的个数就可以了：`if(map.containsKey(-A[i]-B[j])) res += map.get(-A[i]-B[j]);` +- No804：唯一摩尔斯密码词 + - 解法：查表(将密码定义成表，查出对应的摩斯密码)，放入set集合即可 diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode1.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode1.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..531cb23 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode1.java @@ -0,0 +1,50 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.HashMap; + +public class LeetCode1 { + + // 1. Two Sum + // https://leetcode.com/problems/two-sum/description/ + // 时间复杂度：O(n) + // 空间复杂度：O(n) + + public int[] twoSum(int[] nums, int target) { + + HashMap record = new HashMap(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length; i ++){ + int complement = target - nums[i]; + if(record.containsKey(complement)){ + int[] res = {i, record.get(complement)}; + return res; + } + record.put(nums[i], i); + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("the input has no solution"); + } + + // 由于题目中只要求求出唯一的一个解。因此可以在最初的时候遍历整个数组, 将数组中的每个数字的索引放在map中。 + // 此时, record中记录的永远是每一个数字最后出现的位置。 + // 而对于 target = 2*a的情况, 如果nums中有两个或两个以上a, + // 我们在扫描时会先看到第一个a, 而从record中拿到的是最后一个a :) + public int[] twoSum2(int[] nums, int target) { + + HashMap record = new HashMap(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + record.put(nums[i], i); + + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length; i ++){ + if(record.containsKey(target - nums[i])) + // 针对只有一个解，所以可以用索引的方式判断(但还是用值来判断易懂一些)... + if(record.get(target - nums[i]) != i){ + int[] res = {i, record.get(target - nums[i])}; + return res; + } + + record.put(nums[i], i); + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("the input has no solution"); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode102.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode102.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c8a04e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode102.java @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import javafx.util.Pair; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode102 { + + /// 102. Binary Tree Level Order Traversal + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/binary-tree-level-order-traversal/description/ + /// 二叉树的层序遍历 + /// 时间复杂度: O(n), n为树的节点个数 + /// 空间复杂度: O(n) + + // Definition for a binary tree node. + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + TreeNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + public List> levelOrder(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList> res = new ArrayList>(); + if(root == null) + return res; + + // 我们使用LinkedList来做为我们的先入先出的队列 + LinkedList> queue = new LinkedList>(); + + queue.addLast(new Pair(root, 0)); + while(!queue.isEmpty()){ + + // 出列，拿到队列的TreeNode和level + Pair front = queue.removeFirst(); + TreeNode node = front.getKey(); + int level = front.getValue(); + + // 如果level == res.size() --->新的一层--->new 出一个ArrayList() + if(level == res.size()) { + res.add(new ArrayList()); + } + assert level < res.size(); + + res.get(level).add(node.val); + if(node.left != null) + queue.addLast(new Pair(node.left, level + 1)); + if(node.right != null) + queue.addLast(new Pair(node.right, level + 1)); + } + + return res; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode104.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode104.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74d1c21 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode104.java @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode104 { + + // 104. Maximum Depth of Binary Tree + // https://leetcode.com/problems/maximum-depth-of-binary-tree/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n), n是树中的节点个数 + // 空间复杂度: O(h), h是树的高度 + + // Definition for a binary tree node. + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + TreeNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + public int maxDepth(TreeNode root) { + + if(root == null) + return 0; + + // 递归！！！！ + return 1 + Math.max(maxDepth(root.left), maxDepth(root.right)); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode112.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode112.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90a8332 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode112.java @@ -0,0 +1,36 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode112 { + + + /// 112. Path Sum + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/path-sum/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(n), n为树的节点个数 + /// 空间复杂度: O(h), h为树的高度 + + + // Definition for a binary tree node. + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + TreeNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + // 从根节点到叶子节点，有没有路径为sum + // 确定了根节点是必须要的，那我们就可以分解成 + // 根节点下的子节点，有没有路径为sum - root.val!!!(其实就是子问题) + public boolean hasPathSum(TreeNode root, int sum) { + + if(root == null) + return false; + + // 根节点到叶子节点，所以递归的出口是叶子节点 + if(root.left == null && root.right == null) + return sum == root.val; + + + return hasPathSum(root.left, sum - root.val) + || hasPathSum(root.right, sum - root.val); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode113.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode113.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15ae2c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode113.java @@ -0,0 +1,52 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode113 { + + public class TreeNode { + int val; + LeetCode113.TreeNode left; + LeetCode113.TreeNode right; + + TreeNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + } + + + class Solution { + public List> pathSum(TreeNode root, int sum) { + List> ans = new LinkedList<>(); + List result = new LinkedList<>(); + path(root, sum, ans, result); + return ans; + } + + public void path(TreeNode root, int sum, List> ans, List result) { + if (root == null) return; + + // 先放入temp中 + result.add(new Integer(root.val)); + + if (root.left == null && root.right == null && sum == root.val) { + + // 如果是叶子节点，条件也符合，放入结果中 + ans.add(new LinkedList(result)); + + /* result.remove(result.size() - 1); + return;*/ + } else { + path(root.left, sum - root.val, ans, result); + path(root.right, sum - root.val, ans, result); + + //如果不符合，则去除 + result.remove(result.size() - 1); + + } + + + } + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode137_no.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode137_no.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca3fe50 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode137_no.java @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode137_no { + + + //思路：其他元素都出现了三次，按位计算每一位上1的个数，结果模3为1的那些位就是所求数二进制1所在的位。 + // 出处：https://blog.csdn.net/w8253497062015/article/details/80058180 + public static int singleNumber(int[] nums) { + int result = 0; + for (int i = 0; i < 32; i++) { + int mask = 1 << i; + int count = 0; + for (int j = 0; j < nums.length; j++) { + if ((mask & nums[j]) != 0) + count++; + } + if (count % 3 == 1) + result = mask | result; + } + return result; + } + + + + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode167.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode167.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c8e73c --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode167.java @@ -0,0 +1,94 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode167 { + + //https://leetcode.com/problems/two-sum-ii-input-array-is-sorted/description/ + + /** + * 暴力解法 + * + * @param numbers + * @param target + * @return + */ + // 时间复杂度: O(n^2) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public int[] twoSum(int[] numbers, int target) { + + if (numbers.length < 2 /*|| !isSorted(numbers)*/) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illegal argument numbers"); + + for (int i = 0; i < numbers.length; i++) + for (int j = i + 1; j < numbers.length; j++) + if (numbers[i] + numbers[j] == target) { + int[] res = {i + 1, j + 1}; + return res; + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("The input has no solution"); + } + + // 二分搜索法 + // 时间复杂度: O(nlogn) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public int[] twoSum2(int[] numbers, int target) { + + if (numbers.length < 2 /*|| !isSorted(numbers)*/) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illegal argument numbers"); + for (int i = 0; i < numbers.length - 1; i++) { + int j = binarySearch(numbers, i + 1, numbers.length - 1, target - numbers[i]); + if (j != -1) { + // 返回的数从1开始，所以下面都+1了 + int[] res = {i + 1, j + 1}; + return res; + } + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("The input has no solution"); + } + + private int binarySearch(int[] nums, int l, int r, int target) { + + if (l < 0 || l > nums.length) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("l is out of bound"); + + if (r < 0 || r > nums.length) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("r is out of bound"); + + while (l <= r) { + int mid = l + (r - l) / 2; + if (nums[mid] == target) + return mid; + if (target > nums[mid]) + l = mid + 1; + else + r = mid - 1; + } + + return -1; + } + + // 对撞指针 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public int[] twoSum3(int[] numbers, int target) { + + if (numbers.length < 2 /*|| !isSorted(numbers)*/) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illegal argument numbers"); + + int l = 0, r = numbers.length - 1; + while (l < r) { + + if (numbers[l] + numbers[r] == target) { + int[] res = {l + 1, r + 1}; + return res; + } else if (numbers[l] + numbers[r] < target) + l++; + else // numbers[l] + numbers[r] > target + r--; + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("The input has no solution"); + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode17.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode17.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e535e95 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode17.java @@ -0,0 +1,68 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode17 { + + /// 17. Letter Combinations of a Phone Number + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/letter-combinations-of-a-phone-number/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(2^len(s)) + /// 空间复杂度: O(len(s)) + + private String letterMap[] = { + " ", //0 + "", //1 + "abc", //2 + "def", //3 + "ghi", //4 + "jkl", //5 + "mno", //6 + "pqrs", //7 + "tuv", //8 + "wxyz" //9 + }; + + private ArrayList res; + + public List letterCombinations(String digits) { + + res = new ArrayList<>(); + + if (digits.equals("")) + return res; + + findCombination(digits, 0, ""); + return res; + } + + // s中保存了此时从digits[0...index-1]翻译得到的一个字母字符串 + // 寻找和digits[index]匹配的字母, 获得digits[0...index]翻译得到的解 + private void findCombination(String digits, int index, String s) { + + if (index == digits.length()) { + res.add(s); + return; + } + + Character c = digits.charAt(index); + String letters = letterMap[c - '0']; + for (int i = 0; i < letters.length(); i++) { + findCombination(digits, index + 1, s + letters.charAt(i)); + } + return; + } + + private static void printList(List list) { + for (String s : list) + System.out.println(s); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + printList((new LeetCode17()).letterCombinations("234")); + + } + + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode19.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode19.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e24f9cf --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode19.java @@ -0,0 +1,66 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode19 { + + // 19. Remove Nth Node From End of List + // https://leetcode.com/problems/remove-nth-node-from-end-of-list/description/ + + // 先记录链表总长度 + // 需要对链表进行两次遍历 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public ListNode removeNthFromEnd(ListNode head, int n) { + + ListNode dummyHead = new ListNode(0); + dummyHead.next = head; + + int length = 0; + for(ListNode cur = dummyHead.next; cur != null ; cur = cur.next) + length ++; + + int k = length - n; + assert k >= 0; + ListNode cur = dummyHead; + for(int i = 0 ; i < k ; i ++) + cur = cur.next; + + cur.next = cur.next.next; + + return dummyHead.next; + } + + public ListNode removeNthFromEnd2(ListNode head, int n) { + + ListNode dummyHead = new ListNode(0); + dummyHead.next = head; + + ListNode p = dummyHead; + ListNode q = dummyHead; + + // q是虚拟头结点 + for( int i = 0 ; i < n + 1 ; i ++ ){ + assert q != null; + q = q.next; + } + + while(q != null){ + p = p.next; + q = q.next; + } + + p.next = p.next.next; + + return dummyHead.next; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int arr[] = {1, 2, 3, 4, 5}; + ListNode head = new ListNode(arr); + System.out.println(head); + + head = (new LeetCode19()).removeNthFromEnd2(head, 3); + System.out.println(head); + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode20.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode20.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f65a7c --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode20.java @@ -0,0 +1,44 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.Stack; + +public class LeetCode20 { + + + // 20. Valid Parentheses + // https://leetcode.com/problems/valid-parentheses/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + + public boolean isValid(String s) { + + Stack stack = new Stack(); + for (int i = 0; i < s.length(); i++) + if (s.charAt(i) == '(' || s.charAt(i) == '{' || s.charAt(i) == '[') + stack.push(s.charAt(i)); + else { + + if (stack.size() == 0) + return false; + Character c = stack.pop(); + + Character match; + if (s.charAt(i) == ')') + match = '('; + else if (s.charAt(i) == ']') + match = '['; + else { + assert s.charAt(i) == '}'; + match = '{'; + } + + if (c != match) + return false; + } + + if (stack.size() != 0) + return false; + + return true; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode200.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode200.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1cb2c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode200.java @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode200 { + + //https://leetcode-cn.com/problems/number-of-islands/description/ + + /// 时间复杂度: O(n*m) + /// 空间复杂度: O(n*m) + + + private int d[][] = {{0, 1}, {1, 0}, {0, -1}, {-1, 0}}; + private int m, n; + private boolean visited[][]; + + public int numIslands(char[][] grid) { + + if (grid == null || grid.length == 0 || grid[0].length == 0) + return 0; + + m = grid.length; + n = grid[0].length; + + visited = new boolean[m][n]; + int res = 0; + for (int i = 0; i < m; i++) + for (int j = 0; j < n; j++) + if (grid[i][j] == '1' && !visited[i][j]) { + dfs(grid, i, j); + res++; + } + + return res; + } + + // 从grid[x][y]的位置开始,进行floodfill + // 保证(x,y)合法,且grid[x][y]是没有被访问过的陆地 + private void dfs(char[][] grid, int x, int y) { + + //assert(inArea(x,y)); + visited[x][y] = true; + for (int i = 0; i < 4; i++) { + int newx = x + d[i][0]; + int newy = y + d[i][1]; + if (inArea(newx, newy) && !visited[newx][newy] && grid[newx][newy] == '1') + dfs(grid, newx, newy); + } + + return; + } + + private boolean inArea(int x, int y) { + return x >= 0 && x < m && y >= 0 && y < n; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + char grid1[][] = { + {'1', '1', '1', '1', '0'}, + {'1', '1', '0', '1', '0'}, + {'1', '1', '0', '0', '0'}, + {'0', '0', '0', '0', '0'} + }; + System.out.println((new LeetCode200()).numIslands(grid1)); + // 1 + + // --- + + char grid2[][] = { + {'1', '1', '0', '0', '0'}, + {'1', '1', '0', '0', '0'}, + {'0', '0', '1', '0', '0'}, + {'0', '0', '0', '1', '1'} + }; + System.out.println((new LeetCode200()).numIslands(grid2)); + // 3 + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode203.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode203.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5926982 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode203.java @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode203 { + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/remove-linked-list-elements/description/ + // 不使用虚拟头结点 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + + public ListNode removeElements(ListNode head, int val) { + + // 需要对头结点进行特殊处理 + while(head != null && head.val == val){ + ListNode node = head; + head = head.next; + } + + if(head == null) + return head; + + ListNode cur = head; + while(cur.next != null){ + if(cur.next.val == val){ + ListNode delNode = cur.next; + cur.next = delNode.next; + } + else + cur = cur.next; + } + return head; + } + + // 弄了一个虚拟节点(不用对头结点再做处理了) + public ListNode removeElements2(ListNode head, int val) { + + // 创建虚拟头结点 + ListNode dummyHead = new ListNode(0); + dummyHead.next = head; + + ListNode cur = dummyHead; + while(cur.next != null){ + if(cur.next.val == val ){ + ListNode delNode = cur.next; + cur.next = delNode.next; + } + else + cur = cur.next; + } + + return dummyHead.next; + } + + // 递归的方式来做 + public ListNode removeElements3(ListNode head, int val) { + + if(head == null) + return head; + + // 用下一个节点跟value比较 + ListNode res = removeElements3(head.next, val); + + if(head.val == val) + return res; + else{ + head.next = res; + return head; + } + } + // 递归的方式来做--->其实就是一个子串删除的问题。 + public ListNode removeElements4(ListNode head, int val) { + + if(head == null) + return head; + + // 删除重复的节点，拿到子串 + head.next = removeElements4(head.next, val); + + // 如果头节点是要删除的节点，返回子串。如果不是，返回当前子串 + return head.val == val ? head.next : head; + } + + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int[] nums = {1, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 6}; + ListNode head = new ListNode(nums); + System.out.println(head); + + ListNode res = (new LeetCode203()).removeElements3(head, 6); + System.out.println(res); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode206.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode206.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..28d333d --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode206.java @@ -0,0 +1,51 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode206 { + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/reverse-linked-list/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + + // Definition for singly-linked list. + public class ListNode { + int val; + ListNode next; + ListNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + public ListNode reverseList(ListNode head) { + + ListNode pre = null; + ListNode cur = head; + while(cur != null){ + ListNode next = cur.next; + cur.next = pre; + pre = cur; + cur = next; + } + + return pre; + } + + // 递归方式 + public ListNode reverseList2(ListNode head) { + + // 递归终止条件 + if(head == null|| head.next == null) + return head; + + // head==1 --->head==2 return head ==2 + ListNode rhead = reverseList2(head.next); + + // head->next此刻指向head后面的链表的尾节点 + // head->next->next = head把head节点放在了尾部 + + // TODO 最后一个节点指向倒数第二个节点 + head.next.next = head; + + // 最后一个节点指向null + head.next = null; + + return rhead; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode209.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode209.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ed1b08 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode209.java @@ -0,0 +1,175 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode209 { + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/minimum-size-subarray-sum/description/ + + // 暴力解法 + // 该方法在 Leetcode 中会超时！ + // 时间复杂度: O(n^3) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public int minSubArrayLen(int s, int[] nums) { + + if (s <= 0 || nums == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illigal Arguments"); + + int res = nums.length + 1; + for (int l = 0; l < nums.length; l++) + for (int r = l; r < nums.length; r++) { + int sum = 0; + for (int i = l; i <=r; i++) + sum += nums[i]; + if (sum >= s) + res = Math.min(res, r - l + 1); + } + + // 无解的情况 + if (res == nums.length + 1) + return 0; + + return res; + } + // 优化暴力解 + // 时间复杂度: O(n^2) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + public int minSubArrayLen2(int s, int[] nums) { + + if(s <= 0 || nums == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illigal Arguments"); + + // sums[i]存放nums[0...i-1]的和 + int[] sums = new int[nums.length + 1]; + sums[0] = 0; + for(int i = 1 ; i <= nums.length ; i ++) + sums[i] = sums[i-1] + nums[i-1]; + + + int res = nums.length + 1; + for(int l = 0 ; l < nums.length ; l ++) + for(int r = l ; r < nums.length ; r ++){ + // 使用sums[r+1] - sums[l] 快速获得nums[l...r]的和 + if(sums[r+1] - sums[l] >= s) + res = Math.min(res, r - l + 1); + } + + + // 无解的情况 + if(res == nums.length + 1) + return 0; + + return res; + } + // 滑动窗口的思路 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public int minSubArrayLen3(int s, int[] nums) { + + if(s <= 0 || nums == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illigal Arguments"); + + int l = 0 , r = -1; // nums[l...r]为我们的滑动窗口 + int sum = 0; + int res = nums.length + 1; + + while(l < nums.length){ // 窗口的左边界在数组范围内,则循环继续 + if(r + 1 < nums.length && sum < s) + sum += nums[++r]; + else // r已经到头 或者 sum >= s + sum -= nums[l++]; + if(sum >= s) + res = Math.min(res, r - l + 1); + } + // 无解的情况 + if(res == nums.length + 1) + return 0; + return res; + } + + // 另外一个滑动窗口的实现, 仅供参考 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public int minSubArrayLen4(int s, int[] nums) { + + if(s <= 0 || nums == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illigal Arguments"); + + int l = 0 , r = -1; // [l...r]为我们的窗口 + int sum = 0; + int res = nums.length + 1; + + while(r + 1 < nums.length){ // 窗口的右边界无法继续扩展了, 则循环继续 + + while(r + 1 < nums.length && sum < s) + sum += nums[++r]; + + if(sum >= s) + res = Math.min(res, r - l + 1); + + while(l < nums.length && sum >= s){ + sum -= nums[l++]; + if(sum >= s) + res = Math.min(res, r - l + 1); + } + } + + if(res == nums.length + 1) + return 0; + return res; + } + + + // 时间复杂度: O(nlogn) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + // 二分搜索 + public int minSubArrayLen5(int s, int[] nums) { + + if(s <= 0 || nums == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illigal Arguments"); + + // sums[i]存放nums[0...i-1]的和 + int[] sums = new int[nums.length + 1]; + sums[0] = 0; + for(int i = 1 ; i <= nums.length ; i ++) + sums[i] = sums[i-1] + nums[i-1]; + + int res = nums.length + 1; + for(int l = 0 ; l < nums.length - 1 ; l ++){ + // Java类库中没有内置的lowerBound方法， + // 我们需要自己实现一个基于二分搜索的lowerBound:) + int r = lowerBound(sums, sums[l] + s); + if(r != sums.length){ + res = Math.min(res, r - l); + } + } + + if(res == nums.length + 1) + return 0; + return res; + } + + // 在有序数组nums中寻找大于等于target的最小值 + // 如果没有（nums数组中所有值都小于target），则返回nums.length + private int lowerBound(int[] nums, int target){ + + if(nums == null /*|| !isSorted(nums)*/) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illegal argument nums in lowerBound."); + + int l = 0, r = nums.length; // 在nums[l...r)的范围里寻找解 + while(l != r){ + int mid = l + (r - l) / 2; + if(nums[mid] >= target) + r = mid; + else + l = mid + 1; + } + return l; + } + + + + public static void main(String[] args) { + int[] nums = {2, 3, 1, 2, 4, 3}; + int s = 7; + System.out.println((new LeetCode209()).minSubArrayLen(s, nums)); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode219.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode219.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b266c82 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode219.java @@ -0,0 +1,37 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.HashSet; + +public class LeetCode219 { + + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/contains-duplicate-ii/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(k) + + public boolean containsNearbyDuplicate(int[] nums, int k) { + + if(nums == null || nums.length <= 1) + return false; + + if(k <= 0) + return false; + + // nums = [1,2,3,4,1], k = 3 + // nums = [1,2,3,1,2,3], k = 2 + HashSet record = new HashSet(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length; i ++){ + if(record.contains(nums[i])) + return true; + + record.add(nums[i]); + + // 当map的大小大于k+1,那就减去最左边的元素 + if(record.size() == k + 1) + record.remove(nums[i-k]); + } + + return false; + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode220.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode220.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a661f19 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode220.java @@ -0,0 +1,45 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.TreeSet; + +public class LeetCode220 { + + // 220. Contains Duplicate III + // https://leetcode.com/problems/contains-duplicate-iii/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(nlogk) + // 空间复杂度: O(k) + + public static boolean containsNearbyAlmostDuplicate(int[] nums, int k, int t) { + + // 这个问题的测试数据在使用int进行加减运算时会溢出 + // 所以使用long long + TreeSet record = new TreeSet(); + + // nums = [1,2,3,1], k = 3, t = 0 true + // nums = [1,5,9,1,5,9], k = 2, t = 3 false + + for (int i = 0; i < nums.length; i++) { + + // ceiling 向上取整,ceiling会去查找在set中有没有该值，如果没有--->null + if (record.ceiling((long) nums[i] - (long) t) != null && + record.ceiling((long) nums[i] - (long) t) <= (long) nums[i] + (long) t) + return true; + + record.add((long) nums[i]); + + if (record.size() == k + 1) + record.remove((long) nums[i - k]); + } + + return false; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + int[] nums = {1, 3, 2, 1}; + + int k = 3, t = 0; + + containsNearbyAlmostDuplicate(nums, k, t); + + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode226.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode226.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be1cd71 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode226.java @@ -0,0 +1,35 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode226 { + + /// 226. Invert Binary Tree + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/invert-binary-tree/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(n), n为树中节点个数 + /// 空间复杂度: O(h), h为树的高度 + + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + + TreeNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + } + + public TreeNode invertTree(TreeNode root) { + + if (root == null) + return null; + + // 左边翻转，右边翻转 + TreeNode left = invertTree(root.left); + TreeNode right = invertTree(root.right); + + // 左右交换！ + root.left = right; + root.right = left; + + return root; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode237.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode237.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f350cb --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode237.java @@ -0,0 +1,38 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode237 { + + // 237. Delete Node in a Linked List + // https://leetcode.com/problems/delete-node-in-a-linked-list/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(1) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + + + // 这里只给出链表的值让我们删除--->一般我们删除链表的节点需要找到对应的前一个节点 + // 由于这里仅仅是值，所以我们可以这样做： + // 1. 找到给定值的节点 + // 2. 将找到的节点的下一个节点的值赋值给当前节点 + // 3. 删除掉下一个节点 + public void deleteNode(ListNode node) { + + // 注意: 这个方法对尾节点不适用。题目中要求了给定的node不是尾节点 + // 我们检查node.next, 如果为null则抛出异常, 确保了node不是尾节点 + if (node == null || node.next == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("node should be valid and can not be the tail node."); + + node.val = node.next.val; + node.next = node.next.next; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int[] arr = {1, 2, 3, 4}; + + ListNode head = new ListNode(arr); + System.out.println(head); + + ListNode node2 = head.findNode(2); + (new LeetCode237()).deleteNode(node2); + System.out.println(head); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode24.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode24.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..edb6e2e --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode24.java @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode24 { + + // 24. Swap Nodes in Pairs + // https://leetcode.com/problems/swap-nodes-in-pairs/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + + public ListNode swapPairs(ListNode head) { + + ListNode dummyHead = new ListNode(0); + dummyHead.next = head; + + ListNode p = dummyHead; + while(p.next != null && p.next.next != null ){ + ListNode node1 = p.next; + ListNode node2 = node1.next; + ListNode next = node2.next; + node2.next = node1; + node1.next = next; + p.next = node2; + p = node1; + } + + return dummyHead.next; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode253.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode253.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2357f62 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode253.java @@ -0,0 +1,45 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode253 { + + /// 235. Lowest Common Ancestor of a Binary Search Tree + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/lowest-common-ancestor-of-a-binary-search-tree/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(lgn), 其中n为树的节点个数 + /// 空间复杂度: O(h), 其中h为树的高度 + + + // Definition for a binary tree node. + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + + TreeNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + } + + public TreeNode lowestCommonAncestor(TreeNode root, TreeNode p, TreeNode q) { + + if (p == null || q == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("p or q can not be null."); + + if (root == null) + return null; + + // p q 都在root左边 + if (p.val < root.val && q.val < root.val) + return lowestCommonAncestor(root.left, p, q); + + // p q 都在root右边 + if (p.val > root.val && q.val > root.val) + return lowestCommonAncestor(root.right, p, q); + + assert p.val == root.val || q.val == root.val + || (root.val - p.val) * (root.val - q.val) < 0; + + // 某个节点是root，直接返回root + return root; + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode257.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode257.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89dfc30 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode257.java @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode257 { + + /// 257. Binary Tree Paths + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/binary-tree-paths/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(n), n为树中的节点个数 + /// 空间复杂度: O(h), h为树的高度 + + // Definition for a binary tree node. + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + + TreeNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + } + + /** + * 从底一直往上加 + * @param root + * @return + */ + public List binaryTreePaths(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList res = new ArrayList<>(); + + if (root == null) + return res; + + // 比如 1 + // / + // 2 + + if (root.left == null && root.right == null) { + res.add(Integer.toString(root.val)); + return res; + } + + List leftPaths = binaryTreePaths(root.left); + for (String s : leftPaths) { + StringBuilder sb = new StringBuilder(Integer.toString(root.val)); + sb.append("->"); + sb.append(s); + res.add(sb.toString()); + } + + List rightPaths = binaryTreePaths(root.right); + for (String s : rightPaths) { + StringBuilder sb = new StringBuilder(Integer.toString(root.val)); + sb.append("->"); + sb.append(s); + res.add(sb.toString()); + } + + return res; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode260.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode260.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..88758e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode260.java @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode260 { + + + // 给定一个整数数组 nums，其中恰好有两个元素只出现一次，其余所有元素均出现两次。 找出只出现一次的那两个元素。 + //https://leetcode-cn.com/problems/single-number-iii/description/ + + public int[] singleNumber(int[] nums) { + int sum = 0; //记录所有异或的值，即两个只出现一次数的异或 + for (int i = 0; i < nums.length; i++) { + sum ^= nums[i]; + } + int[] res = new int[2]; + + sum &= -sum; //得出两个数异或结果的最右边的一个1，其他的为零，这样进行&操作就可以将两个不同的数分到不同的两组去 + for (int i = 0; i < nums.length; i++) { + if ((sum & nums[i]) == 0) + res[0] ^= nums[i]; + else + res[1] ^= nums[i]; + } + return res; + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode279_no.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode279_no.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcfeb6b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode279_no.java @@ -0,0 +1,103 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import javafx.util.Pair; + +import java.util.LinkedList; + +public class LeetCode279_no { + + // 279. Perfect Squares + // https://leetcode.com/problems/perfect-squares/description/ + // 该方法会导致 Time Limit Exceeded 或者 Memory Limit Exceeded + // + // 时间复杂度: O(2^n) + // 空间复杂度: O(2^n) + public int numSquares(int n) { + + LinkedList> queue = new LinkedList>(); + queue.addLast(new Pair(n, 0)); + + while (!queue.isEmpty()) { + Pair front = queue.removeFirst(); + int num = front.getKey(); + int step = front.getValue(); + + if (num == 0) + return step; + + for (int i = 1; num - i * i >= 0; i++) + queue.addLast(new Pair(num - i * i, step + 1)); + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("No Solution."); + } + + // 使用visited数组,记录每一个入队元素 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + public int numSquares2(int n) { + + LinkedList> queue = new LinkedList>(); + queue.addLast(new Pair(n, 0)); + + boolean[] visited = new boolean[n + 1]; + visited[n] = true; + + while (!queue.isEmpty()) { + Pair front = queue.removeFirst(); + int num = front.getKey(); + int step = front.getValue(); + + if (num == 0) + return step; + + for (int i = 1; num - i * i >= 0; i++) + if (!visited[num - i * i]) { + queue.addLast(new Pair(num - i * i, step + 1)); + visited[num - i * i] = true; + } + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("No Solution."); + } + + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + public int numSquares3(int n) { + + if (n == 0) + return 0; + + LinkedList> queue = new LinkedList>(); + queue.addLast(new Pair(n, 0)); + + boolean[] visited = new boolean[n + 1]; + visited[n] = true; + + while (!queue.isEmpty()) { + Pair front = queue.removeFirst(); + int num = front.getKey(); + int step = front.getValue(); + + if (num == 0) + return step; + + for (int i = 1; num - i * i >= 0; i++) { + int a = num - i * i; + if (!visited[a]) { + if (a == 0) return step + 1; + queue.addLast(new Pair(num - i * i, step + 1)); + visited[num - i * i] = true; + } + } + } + + throw new IllegalStateException("No Solution."); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + System.out.println((new LeetCode279_no()).numSquares(12)); + System.out.println((new LeetCode279_no()).numSquares(13)); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode3.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode3.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d61e33b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode3.java @@ -0,0 +1,82 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode3 { + + //https://leetcode-cn.com/problems/longest-substring-without-repeating-characters/description/ + // 滑动窗口 + // 时间复杂度: O(len(s)) + // 空间复杂度: O(len(charset)) + public int lengthOfLongestSubstring(String s) { + + int[] freq = new int[256]; + + int l = 0, r = -1; //滑动窗口为s[l...r] + int res = 0; + + // 整个循环从 l == 0; r == -1 这个空窗口开始 + // 到l == s.size(); r == s.size()-1 这个空窗口截止 + // 在每次循环里逐渐改变窗口, 维护freq, 并记录当前窗口中是否找到了一个新的最优值 + while (l < s.length()) { + if (r + 1 < s.length() && freq[s.charAt(r + 1)] == 0) + freq[s.charAt(++r)]++; + else //r已经到头 || freq[s[r+1]] == 1 + freq[s.charAt(l++)]--; + + res = Math.max(res, r - l + 1); + } + + return res; + } + + + public int lengthOfLongestSubstring2(String s) { + + int[] freq = new int[256]; + + int l = 0, r = -1; //滑动窗口为s[l...r] + int res = 0; + + // 在这里, 循环中止的条件可以是 r + 1 < s.length(), 想想看为什么? + // 感谢课程QQ群 @千千 指出 :) + while( r + 1 < s.length() ){ + + if( r + 1 < s.length() && freq[s.charAt(r+1)] == 0 ) + freq[s.charAt(++r)] ++; + else //freq[s[r+1]] == 1 + freq[s.charAt(l++)] --; + + res = Math.max(res, r-l+1); + } + + return res; + } + // 滑动窗口的另一个实现, 仅做参考 + // 时间复杂度: O(len(s)) + // 空间复杂度: O(len(charset)) + public int lengthOfLongestSubstring3(String s) { + + int[] freq = new int[256]; + + int l = 0, r = -1; //滑动窗口为s[l...r] + int res = 0; + + while(r + 1 < s.length()){ + + while(r + 1 < s.length() && freq[s.charAt(r+1)] == 0) + freq[s.charAt(++r)] ++; + + res = Math.max(res, r - l + 1); + + if(r + 1 < s.length()){ + freq[s.charAt(++r)] ++; + assert(freq[s.charAt(r)] == 2); + while(l <= r && freq[s.charAt(r)] == 2) + freq[s.charAt(l++)] --; + } + } + + return res; + } + + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode347.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode347.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35139be --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode347.java @@ -0,0 +1,79 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import javafx.util.Pair; + +import java.util.*; + +public class LeetCode347 { + + + // 347. Top K Frequent Elements + // https://leetcode.com/problems/top-k-frequent-elements/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(nlogk) + // 空间复杂度: O(n + k) + + private class PairComparator implements Comparator> { + + @Override + public int compare(Pair p1, Pair p2){ + if(p1.getKey() != p2.getKey()) + return p1.getKey() - p2.getKey(); + return p1.getValue() - p2.getValue(); + } + } + + + // nums = [1,1,1,2,2,3], k = 2 + public List topKFrequent(int[] nums, int k) { + + if(k <= 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("k should be greater than 0"); + + // 统计每个元素出现的频率 + HashMap freq = new HashMap<>(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + if(freq.containsKey(nums[i])) + freq.put(nums[i], freq.get(nums[i]) + 1); + else + freq.put(nums[i], 1); + + if(k > freq.size()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("k should be less than the number of unique numbers in nums"); + + // 扫描freq,维护当前出现频率最高的k个元素 + // 在优先队列中,按照频率排序,所以数据对是 (频率,元素) 的形式 + + // 这里的是最小队列 + PriorityQueue> pq = new PriorityQueue<>(new PairComparator()); + for(Integer num: freq.keySet()){ + int numFreq = freq.get(num); + + // 维护k个值，当前元素比优先队列出现的频率要高，那就出队！ + if(pq.size() == k){ + if(numFreq > pq.peek().getKey()){ + pq.poll(); + pq.add(new Pair(numFreq, num)); + } + } else + pq.add(new Pair(numFreq, num)); + + } + + ArrayList res = new ArrayList<>(); + while(!pq.isEmpty()) + res.add(pq.poll().getValue()); + + return res; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + int[] nums = {1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3}; + + + new LeetCode347().topKFrequent(nums, 2); + + + } + + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode349.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode349.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0af7404 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode349.java @@ -0,0 +1,31 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.HashSet; +import java.util.TreeSet; + +public class LeetCode349 { + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/intersection-of-two-arrays/description/ + + // 时间复杂度: O(nlogn) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + public int[] intersection(int[] nums1, int[] nums2) { + + HashSet record = new HashSet(); + for(int num: nums1) + record.add(num); + + HashSet resultSet = new HashSet(); + for(int num: nums2) + if(record.contains(num)) + resultSet.add(num); + + int[] res = new int[resultSet.size()]; + int index = 0; + for(Integer num: resultSet) + res[index++] = num; + + return res; + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode437.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode437.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5de0bbb --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode437.java @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode437 { + + /// 437. Path Sum III + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/path-sum-iii/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(n), n为树的节点个数 + /// 空间复杂度: O(h), h为树的高度 + + + /// Definition for a binary tree node. + public static class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + + TreeNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + } + + // 在以root为根节点的二叉树中,寻找和为sum的路径,返回这样的路径个数 + public int pathSum(TreeNode root, int sum) { + + if (root == null) + return 0; + + return findPath(root, sum) + + pathSum(root.left, sum) + + pathSum(root.right, sum); + } + + // 在以node为根节点的二叉树中,寻找包含node的路径,和为sum + // 返回这样的路径个数 + private int findPath(TreeNode node, int num) { + + if (node == null) + return 0; + + int res = 0; + // 找到node.val == num 说明就已经找到一条路径了。 + if (node.val == num) + res += 1; + + res += findPath(node.left, num - node.val); + res += findPath(node.right, num - node.val); + + return res; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + // 手动创建Leetcode题页上的测试用例。 + // 当然, 有更好的更智能的创建二叉树的方式, 有兴趣的同学可以自行研究编写程序:) + + /***************** + * 测试用例: + * + * 10 + * / \ + * 5 -3 + * / \ \ + * 3 2 11 + * / \ \ + * 3 -2 1 + *****************/ + TreeNode node1 = new TreeNode(3); + TreeNode node2 = new TreeNode(-2); + + TreeNode node3 = new TreeNode(3); + node3.left = node1; + node3.right = node2; + + TreeNode node4 = new TreeNode(1); + TreeNode node5 = new TreeNode(2); + node5.right = node4; + + TreeNode node6 = new TreeNode(5); + node6.left = node3; + node6.right = node5; + + TreeNode node7 = new TreeNode(11); + TreeNode node8 = new TreeNode(-3); + node8.right = node7; + + TreeNode node9 = new TreeNode(10); + node9.left = node6; + node9.right = node8; + + System.out.println((new LeetCode437()).pathSum(node9, 8)); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode47.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode47.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4367bf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode47.java @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode47 { + //https://leetcode-cn.com/problems/permutations/description/ + // 全排列 + private ArrayList> res; + private boolean[] used; + + public List> permute(int[] nums) { + + res = new ArrayList<>(); + if (nums == null || nums.length == 0) + return res; + + used = new boolean[nums.length]; + LinkedList p = new LinkedList<>(); + generatePermutation(nums, 0, p); + + return res; + } + + // p中保存了一个有index-1个元素的排列。 + // 向这个排列的末尾添加第index个元素, 获得一个有index个元素的排列 + private void generatePermutation(int[] nums, int index, LinkedList p) { + + if (index == nums.length) { + res.add((List) p.clone()); + return; + } + + for (int i = 0; i < nums.length; i++) + if (!used[i]) { + used[i] = true; + p.addLast(nums[i]); + generatePermutation(nums, index + 1, p); + + // 回溯完要清除状态 + p.removeLast(); + used[i] = false; + } + + return; + } + + private static void printList(List list) { + for (Integer e : list) + System.out.print(e + " "); + System.out.println(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int[] nums = {1, 2, 3}; + List> res = (new LeetCode47()).permute(nums); + for (List list : res) + printList(list); + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode51.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode51.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1945335 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode51.java @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.Arrays; +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode51 { + + /// 51. N-Queens + /// https://leetcode.com/problems/n-queens/description/ + /// 时间复杂度: O(n^n) + /// 空间复杂度: O(n) + + private boolean[] col; + private boolean[] dia1; + private boolean[] dia2; + private ArrayList> res; + + public List> solveNQueens(int n) { + + res = new ArrayList<>(); + col = new boolean[n]; + dia1 = new boolean[2 * n - 1]; + dia2 = new boolean[2 * n - 1]; + + LinkedList row = new LinkedList<>(); + putQueen(n, 0, row); + + return res; + } + + // 尝试在一个n皇后问题中, 摆放第index行的皇后位置 + private void putQueen(int n, int index, LinkedList row){ + + if(index == n){ + res.add(generateBoard(n, row)); + return; + } + + for(int i = 0 ; i < n ; i ++) + // 尝试将第index行的皇后摆放在第i列 + if(!col[i] && !dia1[index + i] && !dia2[index - i + n - 1]){ + row.addLast(i); + col[i] = true; + dia1[index + i] = true; + dia2[index - i + n - 1] = true; + putQueen(n, index + 1, row); + col[i] = false; + dia1[index + i] = false; + dia2[index - i + n - 1] = false; + row.removeLast(); + } + + return; + } + + private List generateBoard(int n, LinkedList row){ + + assert row.size() == n; + + ArrayList board = new ArrayList(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < n ; i ++){ + char[] charArray = new char[n]; + Arrays.fill(charArray, '.'); + charArray[row.get(i)] = 'Q'; + board.add(new String(charArray)); + } + return board; + } + + private static void printBoard(List board){ + for(String s: board) + System.out.println(s); + System.out.println(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int n = 4; + List> res = (new LeetCode51()).solveNQueens(n); + for(List board: res) + printBoard(board); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode7.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode7.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4182454 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode7.java @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +package LeetCode; + +class LeetCode7 { + public int reverse(int x) { + int rev = 0; + while (x != 0) { + int pop = x % 10; + x /= 10; + if (rev > Integer.MAX_VALUE/10 || (rev == Integer.MAX_VALUE / 10 && pop > 7)) return 0; + if (rev < Integer.MIN_VALUE/10 || (rev == Integer.MIN_VALUE / 10 && pop < -8)) return 0; + rev = rev * 10 + pop; + } + return rev; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode77.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode77.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..42d03d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode77.java @@ -0,0 +1,78 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.List; + +public class LeetCode77 { + + //https://leetcode-cn.com/problems/combinations/description/ + + /// 时间复杂度: O(n^k) + /// 空间复杂度: O(k) + + private ArrayList> res; + + public List> combine(int n, int k) { + + res = new ArrayList<>(); + if(n <= 0 || k <= 0 || k > n) + return res; + + LinkedList c = new LinkedList<>(); + generateCombinations(n, k, 1, c); + + return res; + } + + // 求解C(n,k), 当前已经找到的组合存储在c中, 需要从start开始搜索新的元素 + private void generateCombinations(int n, int k, int start, LinkedList c){ + + if(c.size() == k){ + res.add((List)c.clone()); + return; + } + for(int i = start ; i <= n ; i ++){ + c.addLast(i); + generateCombinations(n, k, i + 1, c); + c.removeLast(); + } + + return; + } + + + // 求解C(n,k), 当前已经找到的组合存储在c中, 需要从start开始搜索新的元素 + private void generateCombinations2(int n, int k, int start, LinkedList c){ + + if(c.size() == k){ + res.add((List)c.clone()); + return; + } + + // 还有k - c.size()个空位, 所以, [i...n] 中至少要有 k - c.size() 个元素 + // i最多为 n - (k - c.size()) + 1 + // 这种优化叫做截枝 + for(int i = start ; i <= n - (k - c.size()) + 1 ; i ++){ + c.addLast(i); + generateCombinations2(n, k, i + 1, c); + c.removeLast(); + } + + return; + } + + + private static void printList(List list){ + for(Integer e: list) + System.out.print(e + " "); + System.out.println(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + List> res = (new LeetCode77()).combine(4, 2); + for(List list: res) + printList(list); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode79.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode79.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd5912a --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode79.java @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +package LeetCode; + +public class LeetCode79 { + + // https://leetcode-cn.com/problems/word-search/description/ + + /// 回溯法 + /// 时间复杂度: O(m*n*m*n) + /// 空间复杂度: O(m*n) + + // 左，上，右，下移动 + private int d[][] = {{-1, 0}, {0, 1}, {1, 0}, {0, -1}}; + private int m, n; + private boolean[][] visited; + + public boolean exist(char[][] board, String word) { + + if (board == null || word == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("board or word can not be null!"); + + m = board.length; + if (m == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("board can not be empty."); + n = board[0].length; + if (n == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("board can not be empty."); + + visited = new boolean[m][n]; + for (int i = 0; i < m; i++) + for (int j = 0; j < n; j++) + if (searchWord(board, word, 0, i, j)) + return true; + + return false; + } + + // 判断坐标是否在区域内 + private boolean inArea(int x, int y) { + return x >= 0 && x < m && y >= 0 && y < n; + } + + // 从board[startx][starty]开始, 寻找word[index...word.size()) + private boolean searchWord(char[][] board, String word, int index, + int startx, int starty) { + + //assert(inArea(startx,starty)); + if (index == word.length() - 1) + return board[startx][starty] == word.charAt(index); + + if (board[startx][starty] == word.charAt(index)) { + visited[startx][starty] = true; + // 从startx, starty出发,向四个方向寻 + for (int i = 0; i < 4; i++) { + int newx = startx + d[i][0]; + int newy = starty + d[i][1]; + if (inArea(newx, newy) && !visited[newx][newy] && + searchWord(board, word, index + 1, newx, newy)) + return true; + } + visited[startx][starty] = false; + } + return false; + } + + public static void main(String args[]) { + + char[][] b1 = {{'A', 'B', 'C', 'E'}, + {'S', 'F', 'C', 'S'}, + {'A', 'D', 'E', 'E'}}; + + String words[] = {"ABCCED", "SEE", "ABCB"}; + for (int i = 0; i < words.length; i++) + if ((new LeetCode79()).exist(b1, words[i])) + System.out.println("found " + words[i]); + else + System.out.println("can not found " + words[i]); + + // --- + char[][] b2 = {{'A'}}; + if ((new LeetCode79()).exist(b2, "AB")) + System.out.println("found AB"); + else + System.out.println("can not found AB"); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode804.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode804.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff7374b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode804.java @@ -0,0 +1,25 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.HashSet; +import java.util.Set; + +class LeetCode804 { + private String[] morse = {".-", "-...", "-.-.", "-..", ".", "..-.", "--.", "....", "..", ".---", "-.-", ".-..", "--", "-.", "---", ".--.", "--.-", ".-.", "...", "-", "..-", "...-", ".--", "-..-", "-.--", "--.."}; + + public int uniqueMorseRepresentations(String[] words) { + Set set = new HashSet<>(); + for (String word : words) { + set.add(getMorse(word)); + } + return set.size(); + } + + // 将每个字符翻译成摩斯密码 + private String getMorse(String str) { + StringBuilder sb = new StringBuilder(); + for (int i = 0; i < str.length(); i++) { + sb.append(morse[str.charAt(i) - 'a']); + } + return sb.toString(); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/LeetCode96_144_145.java b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode96_144_145.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb1a3f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/LeetCode96_144_145.java @@ -0,0 +1,168 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.List; +import java.util.Stack; + +/** + * 树的前中后序遍历 + */ +public class LeetCode96_144_145 { + + + // Definition for a binary tree node. + public class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + + TreeNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + } + + public List inorderTraversal(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList res = new ArrayList(); + inorderTraversal(root, res); + return res; + } + + private void inorderTraversal(TreeNode node, List list) { + if (node != null) { + inorderTraversal(node.left, list); + list.add(node.val); + inorderTraversal(node.right, list); + } + } + + public List preorderTraversal(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList res = new ArrayList(); + preorderTraversal(root, res); + return res; + } + + private void preorderTraversal(TreeNode node, List list) { + if (node != null) { + list.add(node.val); + preorderTraversal(node.left, list); + preorderTraversal(node.right, list); + } + } + + + public List postorderTraversal(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList res = new ArrayList(); + postorderTraversal(root, res); + return res; + } + + private void postorderTraversal(TreeNode node, List list) { + if (node != null) { + postorderTraversal(node.left, list); + postorderTraversal(node.right, list); + list.add(node.val); + } + } + + //----------------------非递归版 + + private class Command { + String s; // go, print + TreeNode node; + + Command(String s, TreeNode node) { + this.s = s; + this.node = node; + } + } + + ; + + public List inorderTraversal2(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList res = new ArrayList(); + if (root == null) + return res; + + Stack stack = new Stack(); + stack.push(new Command("go", root)); + while (!stack.empty()) { + Command command = stack.pop(); + if (command.s.equals("print")) + res.add(command.node.val); + else { + assert command.s.equals("go"); + if (command.node.right != null) + stack.push(new Command("go", command.node.right)); + stack.push(new Command("print", command.node)); + if (command.node.left != null) + stack.push(new Command("go", command.node.left)); + } + } + return res; + } + + + /** + * 前序遍历,迭代法 + */ + public List preorderTraversal(TreeNode root) { + List result = new ArrayList<>(); + if (root == null) return result; + Stack stack = new Stack<>(); + stack.push(root); + while (!stack.isEmpty()) { + TreeNode node = stack.pop(); + result.add(node.val); + if (node.right != null) stack.push(node.right); + if (node.left != null) stack.push(node.left); + } + return result; + } + + /** + * 后序遍历 + * + * @param root + * @return + */ + public List postorderTraversal(TreeNode root) { + List result = new ArrayList<>(); + if (root == null) return result; + Deque stack = new ArrayDeque<>(); + stack.push(root); + while (!stack.isEmpty()) { + TreeNode node = stack.pop(); + result.add(node.val); + if (node.left != null) stack.push(node.left); + if (node.right != null) stack.push(node.right); + } + Collections.reverse(result); + return result; + } + + /** + * 中序遍历 + * + * @param root + * @return + */ + public List inorderTraversal(TreeNode root) { + List result = new ArrayList<>(); + if (root == null) return result; + Deque stack = new ArrayDeque<>(); + while (root != null || !stack.isEmpty()) { + while (root != null) { + stack.push(root); + root = root.left; + } + TreeNode node = stack.pop(); + result.add(node.val); + root = node.right; + } + return result; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/Leetcode283.java b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode283.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..644eb69 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode283.java @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +// 283. Move Zeroes +// https://leetcode.com/problems/move-zeroes/description/ + +public class Leetcode283 { + + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + public void moveZeroes(int[] nums) { + + ArrayList nonZeroElements = new ArrayList(); + + // 将vec中所有非0元素放入nonZeroElements中 + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + if(nums[i] != 0) + nonZeroElements.add(nums[i]); + + // 将nonZeroElements中的所有元素依次放入到nums开始的位置 + for(int i = 0 ; i < nonZeroElements.size() ; i ++) + nums[i] = nonZeroElements.get(i); + + // 将nums剩余的位置放置为0 + for(int i = nonZeroElements.size() ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + nums[i] = 0; + } + // 原地(in place)解决该问题 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public void moveZeroes2(int[] nums) { + + int k = 0; // nums中, [0...k)的元素均为非0元素 + + // 遍历到第i个元素后,保证[0...i]中所有非0元素 + // 都按照顺序排列在[0...k)中 + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + if( nums[i] != 0 ) + nums[k++] = nums[i]; + + // 将nums剩余的位置放置为0 + for(int i = k ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + nums[i] = 0; + } + + // 原地(in place)解决该问题 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public void moveZeroes3(int[] nums) { + + int k = 0; // nums中, [0...k)的元素均为非0元素 + + // 遍历到第i个元素后,保证[0...i]中所有非0元素 + // 都按照顺序排列在[0...k)中 + // 同时, [k...i] 为 0 + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + if(nums[i] != 0) + swap(nums, k++, i); + } + + // 原地(in place)解决该问题 + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public void moveZeroes4(int[] nums) { + + int k = 0; // nums中, [0...k)的元素均为非0元素 + + // 遍历到第i个元素后,保证[0...i]中所有非0元素 + // 都按照顺序排列在[0...k)中 + // 同时, [k...i] 为 0 + for(int i = 0 ; i < nums.length ; i ++) + if(nums[i] != 0) + if(k != i) + swap(nums, k++, i); + else + k ++; + } + + private void swap(int[] nums, int i, int j){ + int t = nums[i]; + nums[i] = nums[j]; + nums[j] = t; + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/Leetcode350.java b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode350.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c23fb2a --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode350.java @@ -0,0 +1,38 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.TreeMap; + +public class Leetcode350 { + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/intersection-of-two-arrays-ii/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(nlogn) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + + public int[] intersect(int[] nums1, int[] nums2) { + + TreeMap record = new TreeMap(); + + // 遍历nums1，放入map中，value是频率 + for (int num : nums1) + if (!record.containsKey(num)) + record.put(num, 1); + else + record.put(num, record.get(num) + 1); + + ArrayList result = new ArrayList(); + for (int num : nums2) + if (record.containsKey(num) && record.get(num) > 0) { + result.add(num); + record.put(num, record.get(num) - 1); + } + + int[] ret = new int[result.size()]; + int index = 0; + for (Integer num : result) + ret[index++] = num; + + return ret; + } + +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/Leetcode447.java b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode447.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..73a8e35 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode447.java @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.HashMap; + +public class Leetcode447 { + + // 447. Number of Boomerangs + // https://leetcode.com/problems/number-of-boomerangs/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n^2) + // 空间复杂度: O(n) + + public int numberOfBoomerangs(int[][] points) { + + int res = 0; + for( int i = 0 ; i < points.length ; i ++ ){ + + // record中存储 点i 到所有其他点的距离出现的频次 + HashMap record = new HashMap(); + for(int j = 0 ; j < points.length ; j ++) + if(j != i){ + // 计算距离时不进行开根运算, 以保证精度 + int dis = dis(points[i], points[j]); + if(record.containsKey(dis)) + record.put(dis, record.get(dis) + 1); + else + record.put(dis, 1); + } + + for(Integer dis: record.keySet()) + res += record.get(dis) * (record.get(dis) - 1); + } + return res; + } + + // 两点之间的距离 + private int dis(int[] pa, int pb[]){ + return (pa[0] - pb[0]) * (pa[0] - pb[0]) + + (pa[1] - pb[1]) * (pa[1] - pb[1]); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/Leetcode454.java b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode454.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b93362a --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode454.java @@ -0,0 +1,82 @@ +package LeetCode; + +import java.util.HashMap; + +public class Leetcode454 { + + // https://leetcode.com/problems/4sum-ii/description/ + // 时间复杂度: O(n^2) + // 空间复杂度: O(n^2) + + public int fourSumCount(int[] A, int[] B, int[] C, int[] D) { + + if(A == null || B == null || C == null || D == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illegal argument"); + + // 计算C和D的sum，放入Map，如果sum重复的话，value加1 + HashMap map = new HashMap(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < C.length ; i ++) + for(int j = 0 ; j < D.length ; j ++){ + int sum = C[i] + D[j]; + if(map.containsKey(sum)) + map.put(sum, map.get(sum) + 1); + else + map.put(sum, 1); + } + + //1.A+B+C+D=0---->A+B+Z=0--->A+B=-Z-->Z=-(A+B); + int res = 0; + for(int i = 0 ; i < A.length ; i ++) + for(int j = 0 ; j < B.length ; j ++) + if(map.containsKey(-A[i]-B[j])) + res += map.get(-A[i]-B[j]); + + return res; + } + // 时间复杂度: O(n^2) + // 空间复杂度: O(n^2) + public int fourSumCount2(int[] A, int[] B, int[] C, int[] D) { + + if(A == null || B == null || C == null || D == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Illegal argument"); + + HashMap mapAB = new HashMap(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < A.length ; i ++) + for(int j = 0 ; j < B.length ; j ++){ + int sum = A[i] + B[j]; + if(mapAB.containsKey(sum)) + mapAB.put(sum, mapAB.get(sum) + 1); + else + mapAB.put(sum, 1); + } + + HashMap mapCD = new HashMap(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < C.length ; i ++) + for(int j = 0 ; j < D.length ; j ++){ + int sum = C[i] + D[j]; + if(mapCD.containsKey(sum)) + mapCD.put(sum, mapCD.get(sum) + 1); + else + mapCD.put(sum, 1); + } + + int res = 0; + for(Integer sumab: mapAB.keySet()){ + if(mapCD.containsKey(-sumab)) + + res += mapAB.get(sumab) * mapCD.get(-sumab); + } + + return res; + } + + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int[] a = {1, 2}; + int[] b = {-2, -1}; + int[] c = {-1, 2}; + int[] d = {0, 2}; + System.out.println((new Leetcode454()).fourSumCount(a, b, c, d)); + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/Leetcode75.java b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode75.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be9371a --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/Leetcode75.java @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +package LeetCode; + +//https://leetcode.com/problems/sort-colors/description/ +public class Leetcode75 { + + /** + * 扫描出现的频率，然后根据频率再填充回去 + * + * @param nums + */ + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public void sortColors(int[] nums) { + int[] count = {0, 0, 0}; // 存放0, 1, 2三个元素的频率 + for (int i = 0; i < nums.length; i++) { + assert nums[i] >= 0 && nums[i] <= 2; + count[nums[i]]++; + } + int index = 0; + for (int i = 0; i < count[0]; i++) + nums[index++] = 0; + for (int i = 0; i < count[1]; i++) + nums[index++] = 1; + for (int i = 0; i < count[2]; i++) + nums[index++] = 2; + } + + + /** + * 三路快排思路 + * + * @param nums + */ + // 时间复杂度: O(n) + // 空间复杂度: O(1) + public void sortColors2(int[] nums) { + + int zero = -1; // [0...zero] == 0 + int two = nums.length; // [two...n-1] == 2 + for (int i = 0; i < two; ) { + if (nums[i] == 1) + i++; + else if (nums[i] == 2) + swap(nums, i, --two); + else { // nums[i] == 0 + assert nums[i] == 0; + swap(nums, ++zero, i++); + } + } + } + + private void swap(int[] nums, int i, int j) { + int t = nums[i]; + nums[i] = nums[j]; + nums[j] = t; + } +} diff --git a/src/LeetCode/ListNode.java b/src/LeetCode/ListNode.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c9c4bb --- /dev/null +++ b/src/LeetCode/ListNode.java @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +package LeetCode; + +// Definition for singly-linked list. +// 在Java版本中，我们将LinkedList相关的测试辅助函数写在ListNode里 +public class ListNode { + + public int val; + public ListNode next = null; + + public ListNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + + // 根据n个元素的数组arr创建一个链表 + // 使用arr为参数，创建另外一个ListNode的构造函数 + public ListNode (int[] arr){ + + if(arr == null || arr.length == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("arr can not be empty"); + + this.val = arr[0]; + ListNode curNode = this; + for(int i = 1 ; i < arr.length ; i ++){ + curNode.next = new ListNode(arr[i]); + curNode = curNode.next; + } + } + + ListNode findNode(int x){ + + ListNode curNode = this; + while(curNode != null){ + if(curNode.val == x) + return curNode; + curNode = curNode.next; + } + return null; + } + + // 返回以当前ListNode为头结点的链表信息字符串 + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder s = new StringBuilder(""); + ListNode curNode = this; + while(curNode != null){ + s.append(Integer.toString(curNode.val)); + s.append(" -> "); + curNode = curNode.next; + } + s.append("NULL"); + return s.toString(); + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/Main.java b/src/Main.java deleted file mode 100644 index 2101c40..0000000 --- a/src/Main.java +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13 +0,0 @@ - -public class Main { - - public static void main(String[] args) { - - - System.out.println("公众号：Java3y...." ); - - } - - - -} diff --git a/src/basic/ArithmeticOne.java b/src/basic/ArithmeticOne.java index 53aa9cc..691c893 100644 --- a/src/basic/ArithmeticOne.java +++ b/src/basic/ArithmeticOne.java @@ -16,7 +16,7 @@ public static void main(String[] args) { //Factorial(3); - + Factorial(7); } @@ -132,8 +132,6 @@ public static void isAnagram() { } - - /** * 输入一段字符，计算出里面单词的个数 * @@ -171,8 +169,6 @@ public static int countWord(String str) { */ public static int monkeyQue(int x) { - - /* //循环方式： @@ -277,8 +273,6 @@ public static void arraySum() { } - - /** * 1-n的阶乘之和 */ diff --git a/src/basic/ArithmeticTwo.java b/src/basic/ArithmeticTwo.java index 548f6f4..fa6a438 100644 --- a/src/basic/ArithmeticTwo.java +++ b/src/basic/ArithmeticTwo.java @@ -7,12 +7,217 @@ public class ArithmeticTwo { public static void main(String[] args) { + /* String roman = "XVIII"; - int[] arrays = {5, 5, 6, 4, 4, 6, 3}; + int num = romanToNumber(roman, 0, roman.length() - 1); + + System.out.println("关注公众号：Java3y--------------->" + num);*/ + + + // beerAndDrink(); + +/* String s = "HELLO WORLD"; + char[] ch = new char[s.length()]; + + for (int i = 0; i < s.length(); i++) { + ch[i] = (char) encode(s.charAt(i), 3); + }*/ + + int gcd = gcd(35, 5); + + System.out.println("关注公众号：Java3y------------>" + gcd); - //singleNumber(arrays); - drawStar(); + } + + + /** + * 求最大公约数 + * + * @param num1 + * @param num2 + */ + public static int gcd(int num1, int num2) { + + + // 求余数 + int r = num1 % num2; + + // 如果余数为0，那么除数就是最大公约数 + if (r == 0) { + return num2; + } else { + + // 否则，则用除数和余数来进行运算 + return gcd(num2, r); + } + + } + + /** + * 右移 + */ + public static int rotateRight(int ch) { + if (ch >= 'A' && ch <= 'Y') { + return ch + 1; + } else if (ch >= 'a' && ch <= 'y') { + return ch + 1; + } else if (ch == 'Z') { + return 'A'; + } else if (ch == 'z') { + return 'a'; + } else { + return ch; + } + } + + /** + * 左移 + */ + public static int rotateLeft(int ch) { + if (ch >= 'B' && ch <= 'Z') { + return ch - 1; + } else if (ch >= 'b' && ch <= 'z') { + return ch - 1; + } else if (ch == 'A') { + return 'Z'; + } else if (ch == 'a') { + return 'z'; + } else { + return ch; + } + } + + /** + * 加密 + * + * @param ch + * @param shift + * @return + */ + public static int encode(int ch, int shift) { + + // 如果没有移动，则直接返回 + if (shift == 0) { + return ch; + } else if (shift > 0) { + + // 如果shift移动的是正数，那么就向右移动 + for (int i = 0; i < shift; i++) { + ch = rotateRight(ch); + } + return ch; + } else { + + // 如果shift移动的是负数，那么就向左移动 + for (int i = 0; i < -shift; i++) { + ch = rotateLeft(ch); + } + return ch; + } + } + + + /** + * 啤酒与饮料题目 + */ + public static void beerAndDrink() { + + // 啤酒 + for (int i = 0; i < 36; i++) { + + // 饮料 + for (int j = 0; j < 44; j++) { + + // 钱刚好花光了，并且啤酒比饮料少 + if (2.3 * i + j * 1.9 == 82.3 && i < j) { + System.out.println("关注公众号：Java3y--------------->啤酒买了" + i); + } + } + } + } + + /** + * 将罗马数字转成阿拉伯数字，实际上就是一个查表的过程 + * - + * + * @param roman + * @return + */ + public static int digitsToValues(char roman) { + + // 定义罗马数字 + char digits[] = {'I', 'V', 'X', 'L', 'C', 'D', 'M'}; + + // 罗马数字对应的阿拉伯数字 + int values[] = {1, 5, 10, 50, 100, 500, 1000}; + + + for (int i = 0; i < digits.length; i++) { + if (digits[i] == roman) { + return values[i]; + } + } + + return 0; + + } + + /** + * 找到当前罗马数字最大值的角标 + * + * @param digits + * @return + */ + public static int findMaxIndex(String digits, int L, int R) { + + // 假设第一个是最大的 + int max = digitsToValues(digits.charAt(L)); + int maxIndex = L; + + for (int i = L; i < R; i++) { + // 将罗马数字转成是阿拉伯数字 + int num = digitsToValues(digits.charAt(i)); + if (max < num) { + max = num; + maxIndex = i; + } + } + + return maxIndex; + } + + + /** + * 将罗马数字转成阿拉伯数字 + * + * @param romanNumber + * @param L + * @param R + */ + public static int romanToNumber(String romanNumber, int L, int R) { + + // 如果只有一个罗马数字，那么可以直接返回了(递归出口) + if (L == R) { + return digitsToValues(romanNumber.charAt(L)); + } else if (L > R) { // 如果L和R已经越界了，那么说明没有值了 + return 0; + } else { + + // 找到当前罗马数字最大值的角标 + int maxIndex = findMaxIndex(romanNumber, L, R); + + // 得到最大值 + int max = digitsToValues(romanNumber.charAt(maxIndex)); + + // 在最大值左边的，则用最大值减去左边的 + int left = romanToNumber(romanNumber, L, maxIndex - 1); + + // 在最大值右边的，则用最大值加上右边的 + int right = romanToNumber(romanNumber, maxIndex + 1, R); + + return max - left + right; + } } @@ -117,8 +322,6 @@ public static void moveZero(int[] arrays) { // 记录该数组有多少个0元素 int zero = 0; - - for (int i = 0; i < arrays.length; i++) { // 只要元素不为0，那么就往前面移动 diff --git a/src/basic/commonAlgorithm.java b/src/basic/commonAlgorithm.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9734de --- /dev/null +++ b/src/basic/commonAlgorithm.java @@ -0,0 +1,119 @@ +public class commonAlgorithm { + + /** + * 判断一个数是否为素数 + * + * @param num + * @return + */ + private static boolean isPrime(int num) { + + if (num <= 1) return false; + if (num == 2) return true; + if (num % 2 == 0) return false; + + for (int x = 3; x * x <= num; x += 2) + if (num % x == 0) + return false; + + return true; + } + + // 计算arr[l...n)这个区间内所有数字的和 + private static int sum(int[] arr, int l) { + if (l == arr.length) + return 0; + return arr[l] + sum(arr, l + 1); + } + + /** + * 交换数组元素 + * + * @param arr + * @param i + * @param j + */ + private static void swap(Object[] arr, int i, int j) { + + if (i < 0 || i >= arr.length) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("i is out of bound."); + + if (j < 0 || j >= arr.length) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("j is out of bound."); + + Object temp = arr[i]; + arr[i] = arr[j]; + arr[j] = temp; + } + + /** + * 求n的和 + * + * @param n + * @return + */ + private static int sum(int n) { + + if (n < 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("n should be greater or equal to zero."); + + int ret = 0; + for (int i = 0; i <= n; i++) + ret += i; + return ret; + } + + /** + * 翻转数组 + * + * @param arr + */ + private static void reverse(Object[] arr) { + + int n = arr.length; + for (int i = 0; i < n / 2; i++) + swap(arr, i, n - 1 - i); + } + + /** + * 选择排序 + * + * @param arr + * @param n + */ + private static void selectionSort(Comparable[] arr, int n) { + + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + int minIndex = i; + for (int j = i + 1; j < n; j++) + if (arr[j].compareTo(arr[minIndex]) < 0) + minIndex = j; + + swap(arr, i, minIndex); + } + } + + /** + * 二分查找 + * + * @param arr + * @param n + * @param target + * @return + */ + public static int binarySearch(Comparable[] arr, int n, Comparable target) { + + int l = 0, r = n; // 在[l...r)的范围里寻找target + while (l < r) { // 当 l == r 时, 区间[l...r)是一个无效区间 + int mid = l + (r - l) / 2; + if (arr[mid].compareTo(target) == 0) return mid; + if (target.compareTo(arr[mid]) > 0) + l = mid + 1; // target在[mid+1...r)中; [l...mid]一定没有target + else // target < arr[mid] + r = mid; // target在[l...mid)中; [mid...r)一定没有target + } + return -1; + } + + +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/BST/BST.java b/src/datastructure/BST/BST.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0c4a11 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/BST/BST.java @@ -0,0 +1,307 @@ +package datastructure.BST; + +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.Queue; +import java.util.Stack; + +public class BST> { + + private class Node { + public E e; + public Node left, right; + + public Node(E e) { + this.e = e; + left = null; + right = null; + } + } + + private Node root; + private int size; + + public BST() { + root = null; + size = 0; + } + + public int size() { + return size; + } + + public boolean isEmpty() { + return size == 0; + } + + // 向二分搜索树中添加新的元素e + public void add(E e) { + root = add(root, e); + } + + // 向以node为根的二分搜索树中插入元素e，递归算法 + // 返回插入新节点后二分搜索树的根 + private Node add(Node node, E e) { + + if (node == null) { + size++; + return new Node(e); + } + + if (e.compareTo(node.e) < 0) + node.left = add(node.left, e); + else if (e.compareTo(node.e) > 0) + node.right = add(node.right, e); + + return node; + } + + // 看二分搜索树中是否包含元素e + public boolean contains(E e) { + return contains(root, e); + } + + // 看以node为根的二分搜索树中是否包含元素e, 递归算法 + private boolean contains(Node node, E e) { + + if (node == null) + return false; + if (e.compareTo(node.e) == 0) + return true; + else if (e.compareTo(node.e) < 0) + return contains(node.left, e); + else // e.compareTo(node.e) > 0 + return contains(node.right, e); + } + + // 二分搜索树的前序遍历 + public void preOrder() { + preOrder(root); + } + + // 前序遍历以node为根的二分搜索树, 递归算法 + private void preOrder(Node node) { + + if (node == null) + return; + + System.out.println(node.e); + preOrder(node.left); + preOrder(node.right); + } + + // 二分搜索树的非递归 先序遍历 + public void preOrderNR() { + Stack stack = new Stack<>(); + stack.push(root); + while (!stack.isEmpty()) { + Node cur = stack.pop(); + System.out.println(cur.e); + + if (cur.right != null) + stack.push(cur.right); + if (cur.left != null) + stack.push(cur.left); + } + } + + // 二分搜索树的中序遍历 + public void inOrder() { + inOrder(root); + } + + // 中序遍历以node为根的二分搜索树, 递归算法 + private void inOrder(Node node) { + + if (node == null) + return; + + inOrder(node.left); + System.out.println(node.e); + inOrder(node.right); + } + + // 二分搜索树的后序遍历 + public void postOrder() { + postOrder(root); + } + + // 后序遍历以node为根的二分搜索树, 递归算法 + private void postOrder(Node node) { + + if (node == null) + return; + + postOrder(node.left); + postOrder(node.right); + System.out.println(node.e); + } + + // 二分搜索树的层序遍历 + public void levelOrder() { + + Queue q = new LinkedList<>(); + q.add(root); + while (!q.isEmpty()) { + Node cur = q.remove(); + System.out.println(cur.e); + + if (cur.left != null) + q.add(cur.left); + if (cur.right != null) + q.add(cur.right); + } + } + + // 寻找二分搜索树的最小元素 + public E minimum() { + if (size == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("BST is empty!"); + + return minimum(root).e; + } + + // 返回以node为根的二分搜索树的最小值所在的节点 + private Node minimum(Node node) { + if (node.left == null) + return node; + return minimum(node.left); + } + + // 寻找二分搜索树的最大元素 + public E maximum() { + if (size == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("BST is empty"); + + return maximum(root).e; + } + + // 返回以node为根的二分搜索树的最大值所在的节点 + private Node maximum(Node node) { + if (node.right == null) + return node; + + return maximum(node.right); + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除最小值所在节点, 返回最小值 + public E removeMin() { + E ret = minimum(); + root = removeMin(root); + return ret; + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中的最小节点 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node removeMin(Node node) { + + // 如果当前最小节点是有右子树的，那么将其作为删除后的左子树！ + if (node.left == null) { + Node rightNode = node.right; + node.right = null; + size--; + return rightNode; + } + + node.left = removeMin(node.left); + return node; + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除最大值所在节点 + public E removeMax() { + E ret = maximum(); + root = removeMax(root); + return ret; + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中的最大节点 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node removeMax(Node node) { + + if (node.right == null) { + Node leftNode = node.left; + node.left = null; + size--; + return leftNode; + } + + node.right = removeMax(node.right); + return node; + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除元素为e的节点 + public void remove(E e) { + root = remove(root, e); + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中值为e的节点, 递归算法 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node remove(Node node, E e) { + + if (node == null) + return null; + + if (e.compareTo(node.e) < 0) { + node.left = remove(node.left, e); + return node; + } else if (e.compareTo(node.e) > 0) { + node.right = remove(node.right, e); + return node; + } else { // e.compareTo(node.e) == 0 + + // 待删除节点左子树为空的情况 + if (node.left == null) { + Node rightNode = node.right; + node.right = null; + size--; + return rightNode; + } + + // 待删除节点右子树为空的情况 + if (node.right == null) { + Node leftNode = node.left; + node.left = null; + size--; + return leftNode; + } + + // 待删除节点左右子树均不为空的情况 + + // 找到比待删除节点大的最小节点, 即待删除节点右子树的最小节点 + // 用这个节点顶替待删除节点的位置 + Node successor = minimum(node.right); + successor.right = removeMin(node.right); + successor.left = node.left; + + node.left = node.right = null; + + return successor; + } + } + + @Override + public String toString() { + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + generateBSTString(root, 0, res); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 生成以node为根节点，深度为depth的描述二叉树的字符串 + private void generateBSTString(Node node, int depth, StringBuilder res) { + + if (node == null) { + res.append(generateDepthString(depth) + "null\n"); + return; + } + + res.append(generateDepthString(depth) + node.e + "\n"); + generateBSTString(node.left, depth + 1, res); + generateBSTString(node.right, depth + 1, res); + } + + private String generateDepthString(int depth) { + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + for (int i = 0; i < depth; i++) + res.append("--"); + return res.toString(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/BST/Main.java b/src/datastructure/BST/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3225962 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/BST/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,47 @@ +package datastructure.BST; + +import java.util.Random; + +public class Main { + + // 打乱数组顺序 + private static void shuffle(Object[] arr){ + + for(int i = arr.length - 1 ; i >= 0 ; i --){ + int pos = (int) (Math.random() * (i + 1)); + Object t = arr[pos]; + arr[pos] = arr[i]; + arr[i] = t; + } + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + BST bst = new BST<>(); + Random random = new Random(); + + int n = 10000; + + for(int i = 0 ; i < n ; i ++) + bst.add(random.nextInt(n)); + + // 注意, 由于随机生成的数据有重复, 所以bst中的数据数量大概率是小于n的 + + // order数组中存放[0...n)的所有元素 + Integer[] order = new Integer[n]; + for( int i = 0 ; i < n ; i ++ ) + order[i] = i; + // 打乱order数组的顺序 + shuffle(order); + + // 乱序删除[0...n)范围里的所有元素 + for( int i = 0 ; i < n ; i ++ ) + if(bst.contains(order[i])){ + bst.remove(order[i]); + System.out.println("After remove " + order[i] + ", size = " + bst.size() ); + } + + // 最终整个二分搜索树应该为空 + System.out.println(bst.size()); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LRU/LRUCache.java b/src/datastructure/LRU/LRUCache.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7eb8356 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LRU/LRUCache.java @@ -0,0 +1,111 @@ +package datastructure.LRU; + +import java.util.Hashtable; + +public class LRUCache { + + private Hashtable + cache = new Hashtable(); + private int count; + private int capacity; + private DLinkedNode head, tail; + + public LRUCache(int capacity) { + this.count = 0; + this.capacity = capacity; + + head = new DLinkedNode(); + head.pre = null; + + tail = new DLinkedNode(); + tail.post = null; + + head.post = tail; + tail.pre = head; + } + + public int get(String key) { + + DLinkedNode node = cache.get(key); + if (node == null) { + return -1; // should raise exception here. + } + + // move the accessed node to the head; + this.moveToHead(node); + + return node.value; + } + + + public void set(String key, int value) { + DLinkedNode node = cache.get(key); + + if (node == null) { + + DLinkedNode newNode = new DLinkedNode(); + newNode.key = key; + newNode.value = value; + + this.cache.put(Integer.valueOf(key), newNode); + this.addNode(newNode); + + ++count; + + if (count > capacity) { + // pop the tail + DLinkedNode tail = this.popTail(); + this.cache.remove(tail.key); + --count; + } + } else { + // update the value. + node.value = value; + this.moveToHead(node); + } + } + + /** + * Always add the new node right after head; + */ + private void addNode(DLinkedNode node) { + node.pre = head; + node.post = head.post; + + head.post.pre = node; + head.post = node; + } + + /** + * Remove an existing node from the linked list. + */ + private void removeNode(DLinkedNode node) { + DLinkedNode pre = node.pre; + DLinkedNode post = node.post; + + pre.post = post; + post.pre = pre; + } + + /** + * Move certain node in between to the head. + */ + private void moveToHead(DLinkedNode node) { + this.removeNode(node); + this.addNode(node); + } + + // pop the current tail. + private DLinkedNode popTail() { + DLinkedNode res = tail.pre; + this.removeNode(res); + return res; + } +} + +class DLinkedNode { + String key; + int value; + DLinkedNode pre; + DLinkedNode post; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Array.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Array.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c159c68 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Array.java @@ -0,0 +1,157 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array(){ + this(10); + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if(size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for(int i = size - 1; i >= index ; i --) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size ++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + public E getLast(){ + return get(size - 1); + } + + public E getFirst(){ + return get(0); + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for(int i = index + 1 ; i < size ; i ++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size --; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if(size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + int index = find(e); + if(index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + res.append(data[i]); + if(i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/ArrayQueue.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/ArrayQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f7adaf --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/ArrayQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,72 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class ArrayQueue implements Queue { + + private Array array; + + public ArrayQueue(int capacity) { + array = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public ArrayQueue() { + array = new Array<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize() { + return array.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty() { + return array.isEmpty(); + } + + public int getCapacity() { + return array.getCapacity(); + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e) { + array.addLast(e); + } + + @Override + public E dequeue() { + return array.removeFirst(); + } + + @Override + public E getFront() { + return array.getFirst(); + } + + @Override + public String toString() { + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Queue: "); + res.append("front ["); + for (int i = 0; i < array.getSize(); i++) { + res.append(array.get(i)); + if (i != array.getSize() - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + ArrayQueue queue = new ArrayQueue<>(); + for (int i = 0; i < 10; i++) { + queue.enqueue(i); + System.out.println(queue); + + if (i % 3 == 2) { + queue.dequeue(); + System.out.println(queue); + } + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/ArrayStack.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/ArrayStack.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..edb23e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/ArrayStack.java @@ -0,0 +1,70 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class ArrayStack implements Stack { + + private Array array; + + public ArrayStack(int capacity){ + array = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public ArrayStack(){ + array = new Array<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return array.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return array.isEmpty(); + } + + public int getCapacity(){ + return array.getCapacity(); + } + + @Override + public void push(E e){ + array.addLast(e); + } + + @Override + public E pop(){ + return array.removeLast(); + } + + @Override + public E peek(){ + return array.getLast(); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Stack: "); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < array.getSize() ; i ++){ + res.append(array.get(i)); + if(i != array.getSize() - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] top"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + ArrayStack stack = new ArrayStack<>(); + + for(int i = 0 ; i < 5 ; i ++){ + stack.push(i); + System.out.println(stack); + } + + stack.pop(); + System.out.println(stack); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedList.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedList.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a7dd3e --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedList.java @@ -0,0 +1,178 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class LinkedList { + + private class Node{ + public E e; + public Node next; + + public Node(E e, Node next){ + this.e = e; + this.next = next; + } + + public Node(E e){ + this(e, null); + } + + public Node(){ + this(null, null); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + return e.toString(); + } + } + + private Node dummyHead; + private int size; + + public LinkedList(){ + dummyHead = new Node(); + size = 0; + } + + // 获取链表中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回链表是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在链表的index(0-based)位置添加新的元素e + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Illegal index."); + + Node prev = dummyHead; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + prev = prev.next; + + prev.next = new Node(e, prev.next); + size ++; + } + + // 在链表头添加新的元素e + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 在链表末尾添加新的元素e + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 获得链表的第index(0-based)个位置的元素 + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public E get(int index){ + + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Illegal index."); + + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + cur = cur.next; + return cur.e; + } + + // 获得链表的第一个元素 + public E getFirst(){ + return get(0); + } + + // 获得链表的最后一个元素 + public E getLast(){ + return get(size - 1); + } + + // 修改链表的第index(0-based)个位置的元素为e + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Update failed. Illegal index."); + + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + cur = cur.next; + cur.e = e; + } + + // 查找链表中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + while(cur != null){ + if(cur.e.equals(e)) + return true; + cur = cur.next; + } + return false; + } + + // 从链表中删除index(0-based)位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + // E ret = findNode(index).e; // 两次遍历 + + Node prev = dummyHead; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + prev = prev.next; + + Node retNode = prev.next; + prev.next = retNode.next; + retNode.next = null; + size --; + + return retNode.e; + } + + // 从链表中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从链表中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从链表中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + + Node prev = dummyHead; + while(prev.next != null){ + if(prev.next.e.equals(e)) + break; + prev = prev.next; + } + + if(prev.next != null){ + Node delNode = prev.next; + prev.next = delNode.next; + delNode.next = null; + size --; + } + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + while(cur != null){ + res.append(cur + "->"); + cur = cur.next; + } + res.append("NULL"); + + return res.toString(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedListQueue.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedListQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9dbb18f --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedListQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class LinkedListQueue implements Queue { + + private class Node{ + public E e; + public Node next; + + public Node(E e, Node next){ + this.e = e; + this.next = next; + } + + public Node(E e){ + this(e, null); + } + + public Node(){ + this(null, null); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + return e.toString(); + } + } + + private Node head, tail; + private int size; + + public LinkedListQueue(){ + head = null; + tail = null; + size = 0; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + if(tail == null){ + tail = new Node(e); + head = tail; + } + else{ + tail.next = new Node(e); + tail = tail.next; + } + size ++; + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Cannot dequeue from an empty queue."); + + Node retNode = head; + head = head.next; + retNode.next = null; + if(head == null) + tail = null; + size --; + return retNode.e; + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Queue is empty."); + return head.e; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Queue: front "); + + Node cur = head; + while(cur != null) { + res.append(cur + "->"); + cur = cur.next; + } + res.append("NULL tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args){ + + LinkedListQueue queue = new LinkedListQueue<>(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < 10 ; i ++){ + queue.enqueue(i); + System.out.println(queue); + + if(i % 3 == 2){ + queue.dequeue(); + System.out.println(queue); + } + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedListStack.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedListStack.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc45b08 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LinkedListStack.java @@ -0,0 +1,56 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class LinkedListStack implements Stack { + + private LinkedList list; + + public LinkedListStack(){ + list = new LinkedList<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return list.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return list.isEmpty(); + } + + @Override + public void push(E e){ + list.addFirst(e); + } + + @Override + public E pop(){ + return list.removeFirst(); + } + + @Override + public E peek(){ + return list.getFirst(); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Stack: top "); + res.append(list); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + LinkedListStack stack = new LinkedListStack<>(); + + for(int i = 0 ; i < 5 ; i ++){ + stack.push(i); + System.out.println(stack); + } + + stack.pop(); + System.out.println(stack); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LoopQueue.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LoopQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83e71f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/LoopQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public class LoopQueue implements Queue { + + private E[] data; + private int front, tail; + private int size; // 有兴趣的同学，在完成这一章后，可以思考一下： + // LoopQueue中不声明size，如何完成所有的逻辑？ + // 这个问题可能会比大家想象的要难一点点：） + + public LoopQueue(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity + 1]; + front = 0; + tail = 0; + size = 0; + } + + public LoopQueue(){ + this(10); + } + + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length - 1; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return front == tail; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + + if((tail + 1) % data.length == front) + resize(getCapacity() * 2); + + data[tail] = e; + tail = (tail + 1) % data.length; + size ++; + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Cannot dequeue from an empty queue."); + + E ret = data[front]; + data[front] = null; + front = (front + 1) % data.length; + size --; + if(size == getCapacity() / 4 && getCapacity() / 2 != 0) + resize(getCapacity() / 2); + return ret; + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Queue is empty."); + return data[front]; + } + + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity + 1]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[(i + front) % data.length]; + + data = newData; + front = 0; + tail = size; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Queue: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, getCapacity())); + res.append("front ["); + for(int i = front ; i != tail ; i = (i + 1) % data.length){ + res.append(data[i]); + if((i + 1) % data.length != tail) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args){ + + LoopQueue queue = new LoopQueue<>(5); + for(int i = 0 ; i < 10 ; i ++){ + queue.enqueue(i); + System.out.println(queue); + + if(i % 3 == 2){ + queue.dequeue(); + System.out.println(queue); + } + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Main.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d47255 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,39 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +import java.util.Random; + +public class Main { + + // 测试使用q运行opCount个enqueueu和dequeue操作所需要的时间，单位：秒 + private static double testQueue(Queue q, int opCount){ + + long startTime = System.nanoTime(); + + Random random = new Random(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < opCount ; i ++) + q.enqueue(random.nextInt(Integer.MAX_VALUE)); + for(int i = 0 ; i < opCount ; i ++) + q.dequeue(); + + long endTime = System.nanoTime(); + + return (endTime - startTime) / 1000000000.0; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int opCount = 100000; + + ArrayQueue arrayQueue = new ArrayQueue<>(); + double time1 = testQueue(arrayQueue, opCount); + System.out.println("ArrayQueue, time: " + time1 + " s"); + + LoopQueue loopQueue = new LoopQueue<>(); + double time2 = testQueue(loopQueue, opCount); + System.out.println("LoopQueue, time: " + time2 + " s"); + + LinkedListQueue linkedListQueue = new LinkedListQueue<>(); + double time3 = testQueue(linkedListQueue, opCount); + System.out.println("LinkedListQueue, time: " + time3 + " s"); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Queue.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Queue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..98eef02 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Queue.java @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Solution.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Solution.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..384ffb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Solution.java @@ -0,0 +1,157 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +import javafx.util.Pair; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.List; + +/// Leetcode 102. Binary Tree Level Order Traversal +/// https://leetcode.com/problems/binary-tree-level-order-traversal/description/ +/// 二叉树的层序遍历 +/// +/// 二叉树的层序遍历是一个典型的可以借助队列解决的问题。 +/// 该代码主要用于使用Leetcode上的问题测试我们的LinkedListQueue。 +/// 对于二叉树的层序遍历，这个课程后续会讲到。 +/// 届时，同学们也可以再回头看这个代码。 +/// 不过到时，大家应该已经学会自己编写二叉树的层序遍历啦：） + +class Solution { + + /// Definition for a binary tree node. + private class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + TreeNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + private interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); + } + + private class LinkedListQueue implements Queue { + + private class Node{ + public E e; + public Node next; + + public Node(E e, Node next){ + this.e = e; + this.next = next; + } + + public Node(E e){ + this(e, null); + } + + public Node(){ + this(null, null); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + return e.toString(); + } + } + + private Node head, tail; + private int size; + + public LinkedListQueue(){ + head = null; + tail = null; + size = 0; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + if(tail == null){ + tail = new Node(e); + head = tail; + } + else{ + tail.next = new Node(e); + tail = tail.next; + } + size ++; + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Cannot dequeue from an empty queue."); + + Node retNode = head; + head = head.next; + retNode.next = null; + if(head == null) + tail = null; + size --; + return retNode.e; + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Queue is empty."); + return head.e; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Queue: front "); + + Node cur = head; + while(cur != null) + res.append(cur + "->"); + res.append("NULL tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + } + + public List> levelOrder(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList> res = new ArrayList>(); + if(root == null) + return res; + + // 我们使用LinkedList来做为我们的先入先出的队列 + LinkedListQueue> queue = new LinkedListQueue>(); + queue.enqueue(new Pair(root, 0)); + + while(!queue.isEmpty()){ + + Pair front = queue.dequeue(); + TreeNode node = front.getKey(); + int level = front.getValue(); + + if(level == res.size()) + res.add(new ArrayList()); + assert level < res.size(); + + res.get(level).add(node.val); + if(node.left != null) + queue.enqueue(new Pair(node.left, level + 1)); + if(node.right != null) + queue.enqueue(new Pair(node.right, level + 1)); + } + + return res; + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Stack.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Stack.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..983a5c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/Stack.java @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package datastructure.LinkedList; + +public interface Stack { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void push(E e); + E pop(); + E peek(); +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/LinkedList/mergeLinkedList.cpp b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/mergeLinkedList.cpp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..537249d --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList/mergeLinkedList.cpp @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +Node *ListMerge1(Node *head1,Node *head2)//采用递归的方法实现 +{ + if(head1==NULL) + return head2; + if(head2==NULL) + return head1; + Node *head=NULL; + if(head1->value < head2->value) + { + head=head1; + head->next=ListMerge1(head1->next,head2); + } + else + { + head=head2; + head->next=ListMerge1(head1,head2->next); + } + return head; +} diff --git a/src/LinkList/LinkListText.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList_old/LinkListText.java similarity index 94% rename from src/LinkList/LinkListText.java rename to src/datastructure/LinkedList_old/LinkListText.java index 14f1eff..02b2eff 100644 --- a/src/LinkList/LinkListText.java +++ b/src/datastructure/LinkedList_old/LinkListText.java @@ -25,7 +25,9 @@ public static void main(String[] args) { addData(32); addData(4); addData(3); + addData(5); addData(3); + addData(5); addData(2); traverse(head); @@ -60,7 +62,7 @@ public static void main(String[] args) { System.out.println("公众号：Java3y--------删除重复节点---------"); - deleteDuplecate(head); + delete_v2(head); traverse(head); System.out.println("公众号：Java3y--------删除重复节点---------"); @@ -162,6 +164,7 @@ public static void printListReversely(Node head) { * * @param head 头节点 */ +/* public static void deleteDuplecate(Node head) { //临时节点，(从首节点开始-->真正有数据的节点) @@ -170,7 +173,7 @@ public static void deleteDuplecate(Node head) { //当前节点(首节点)的下一个节点 Node nextNode = temp.next; - while (temp.next != null) { + while (temp != null) { while (nextNode.next != null) { @@ -192,7 +195,26 @@ public static void deleteDuplecate(Node head) { } +*/ + /** + * 参考博文：https://blog.csdn.net/ifollowrivers/article/details/70161447 + * 有三种解决方案 + * @param head + */ + public static void delete_v2(Node head){ + Node p=head; + while(p!=null){ + Node q=p; + while(q.next!=null){ + if(q.next.data==p.data){ + q.next=q.next.next; + }else + q=q.next; + } + p=p.next; + } + } /** * 遍历链表 * diff --git a/src/LinkList/Node.java b/src/datastructure/LinkedList_old/Node.java similarity index 100% rename from src/LinkList/Node.java rename to src/datastructure/LinkedList_old/Node.java diff --git a/src/datastructure/array/Array.java b/src/datastructure/array/Array.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6eb941 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/array/Array.java @@ -0,0 +1,149 @@ +package datastructure.array; + +public class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity) { + data = (E[]) new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array() { + this(10); + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity() { + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize() { + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty() { + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e) { + + if (index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if (size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for (int i = size - 1; i >= index; i--) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e) { + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e) { + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index) { + if (index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e) { + if (index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e) { + for (int i = 0; i < size; i++) { + if (data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e) { + for (int i = 0; i < size; i++) { + if (data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index) { + if (index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for (int i = index + 1; i < size; i++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size--; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if (size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst() { + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast() { + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e) { + int index = find(e); + if (index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + @Override + public String toString() { + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for (int i = 0; i < size; i++) { + res.append(data[i]); + if (i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity) { + + E[] newData = (E[]) new Object[newCapacity]; + for (int i = 0; i < size; i++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/array/Main.java b/src/datastructure/array/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c9d901 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/array/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,32 @@ +package datastructure.array; + +public class Main { + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + Array arr = new Array<>(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < 10 ; i ++) + arr.addLast(i); + System.out.println(arr); + + arr.add(1, 100); + System.out.println(arr); + + arr.addFirst(-1); + System.out.println(arr); + + arr.remove(2); + System.out.println(arr); + + arr.removeElement(4); + System.out.println(arr); + + arr.removeFirst(); + System.out.println(arr); + + for(int i = 0 ; i < 4 ; i ++){ + arr.removeFirst(); + System.out.println(arr); + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Array.java b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Array.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a65712d --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Array.java @@ -0,0 +1,166 @@ +package datastructure.heapAndProrityQueue; + +public class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array(){ + this(10); + } + + public Array(E[] arr){ + data = (E[])new Object[arr.length]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < arr.length ; i ++) + data[i] = arr[i]; + size = arr.length; + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if(size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for(int i = size - 1; i >= index ; i --) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size ++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for(int i = index + 1 ; i < size ; i ++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size --; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if(size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + int index = find(e); + if(index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + public void swap(int i, int j){ + + if(i < 0 || i >= size || j < 0 || j >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Index is illegal."); + + E t = data[i]; + data[i] = data[j]; + data[j] = t; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + res.append(data[i]); + if(i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Main.java b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6f500b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,49 @@ +package datastructure.heapAndProrityQueue; + +import java.util.Random; + +public class Main { + + private static double testHeap(Integer[] testData, boolean isHeapify){ + + long startTime = System.nanoTime(); + + MaxHeap maxHeap; + if(isHeapify) + maxHeap = new MaxHeap<>(testData); + else{ + maxHeap = new MaxHeap<>(); + for(int num: testData) + maxHeap.add(num); + } + + int[] arr = new int[testData.length]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < testData.length ; i ++) + arr[i] = maxHeap.extractMax(); + + for(int i = 1 ; i < testData.length ; i ++) + if(arr[i-1] < arr[i]) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Error"); + System.out.println("Test MaxHeap completed."); + + long endTime = System.nanoTime(); + + return (endTime - startTime) / 1000000000.0; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int n = 1000000; + + Random random = new Random(); + Integer[] testData = new Integer[n]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < n ; i ++) + testData[i] = random.nextInt(Integer.MAX_VALUE); + + double time1 = testHeap(testData, false); + System.out.println("Without heapify: " + time1 + " s"); + + double time2 = testHeap(testData, true); + System.out.println("With heapify: " + time2 + " s"); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/MaxHeap.java b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/MaxHeap.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..21de823 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/MaxHeap.java @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +package datastructure.heapAndProrityQueue; + +public class MaxHeap> { + + private Array data; + + public MaxHeap(int capacity){ + data = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public MaxHeap(){ + data = new Array<>(); + } + + public MaxHeap(E[] arr){ + data = new Array<>(arr); + for(int i = parent(arr.length - 1) ; i >= 0 ; i --) + siftDown(i); + } + + // 返回堆中的元素个数 + public int size(){ + return data.getSize(); + } + + // 返回一个布尔值, 表示堆中是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return data.isEmpty(); + } + + // 返回完全二叉树的数组表示中，一个索引所表示的元素的父亲节点的索引 + private int parent(int index){ + if(index == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("index-0 doesn't have parent."); + return (index - 1) / 2; + } + + // 返回完全二叉树的数组表示中，一个索引所表示的元素的左孩子节点的索引 + private int leftChild(int index){ + return index * 2 + 1; + } + + // 返回完全二叉树的数组表示中，一个索引所表示的元素的右孩子节点的索引 + private int rightChild(int index){ + return index * 2 + 2; + } + + // 向堆中添加元素 + public void add(E e){ + data.addLast(e); + siftUp(data.getSize() - 1); + } + + private void siftUp(int k){ + + // 只要子节点大于父节点，向上调整 + while(k > 0 && data.get(parent(k)).compareTo(data.get(k)) < 0 ){ + data.swap(k, parent(k)); + k = parent(k); + } + } + + // 看堆中的最大元素 + public E findMax(){ + if(data.getSize() == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Can not findMax when heap is empty."); + return data.get(0); + } + + // 取出堆中最大元素 + public E extractMax(){ + + E ret = findMax(); + + data.swap(0, data.getSize() - 1); + data.removeLast(); + siftDown(0); + + return ret; + } + + // 向下调整，只要父节点小于子节点 + private void siftDown(int k){ + + while(leftChild(k) < data.getSize()){ + int j = leftChild(k); // 在此轮循环中,data[k]和data[j]交换位置 + if( j + 1 < data.getSize() && + data.get(j + 1).compareTo(data.get(j)) > 0 ) + j ++; + // data[j] 是 leftChild 和 rightChild 中的最大值 + + if(data.get(k).compareTo(data.get(j)) >= 0 ) + break; + + data.swap(k, j); + k = j; + } + } + + // 取出堆中的最大元素，并且替换成元素e + public E replace(E e){ + + E ret = findMax(); + data.set(0, e); + siftDown(0); + return ret; + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/PriorityQueue.java b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/PriorityQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8cabfcf --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/PriorityQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,35 @@ +package datastructure.heapAndProrityQueue; + +public class PriorityQueue> implements Queue { + + private MaxHeap maxHeap; + + public PriorityQueue(){ + maxHeap = new MaxHeap<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return maxHeap.size(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return maxHeap.isEmpty(); + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + return maxHeap.findMax(); + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + maxHeap.add(e); + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + return maxHeap.extractMax(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Queue.java b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Queue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5efe7f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Queue.java @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package datastructure.heapAndProrityQueue; + +public interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Solution.java b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Solution.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7fd58e --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/heapAndProrityQueue/Solution.java @@ -0,0 +1,384 @@ +package datastructure.heapAndProrityQueue;/// 347. Top K Frequent Elements +/// https://leetcode.com/problems/top-k-frequent-elements/description/ +/// +/// 课程中在这里暂时没有介绍这个问题 +/// 该代码主要用于使用Leetcode上的问题测试我们的Priority Queue类 + +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.List; +import java.util.TreeMap; + +class Solution { + + public class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array(){ + this(10); + } + + public Array(E[] arr){ + data = (E[])new Object[arr.length]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < arr.length ; i ++) + data[i] = arr[i]; + size = arr.length; + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if(size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for(int i = size - 1; i >= index ; i --) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size ++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for(int i = index + 1 ; i < size ; i ++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size --; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if(size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + int index = find(e); + if(index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + public void swap(int i, int j){ + + if(i < 0 || i >= size || j < 0 || j >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Index is illegal."); + + E t = data[i]; + data[i] = data[j]; + data[j] = t; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + res.append(data[i]); + if(i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } + } + + public class MaxHeap> { + + private Array data; + + public MaxHeap(int capacity){ + data = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public MaxHeap(){ + data = new Array<>(); + } + + public MaxHeap(E[] arr){ + data = new Array<>(arr); + for(int i = parent(arr.length - 1) ; i >= 0 ; i --) + siftDown(i); + } + + // 返回堆中的元素个数 + public int size(){ + return data.getSize(); + } + + // 返回一个布尔值, 表示堆中是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return data.isEmpty(); + } + + // 返回完全二叉树的数组表示中，一个索引所表示的元素的父亲节点的索引 + private int parent(int index){ + if(index == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("index-0 doesn't have parent."); + return (index - 1) / 2; + } + + // 返回完全二叉树的数组表示中，一个索引所表示的元素的左孩子节点的索引 + private int leftChild(int index){ + return index * 2 + 1; + } + + // 返回完全二叉树的数组表示中，一个索引所表示的元素的右孩子节点的索引 + private int rightChild(int index){ + return index * 2 + 2; + } + + // 向堆中添加元素 + public void add(E e){ + data.addLast(e); + siftUp(data.getSize() - 1); + } + + private void siftUp(int k){ + + while(k > 0 && data.get(parent(k)).compareTo(data.get(k)) < 0 ){ + data.swap(k, parent(k)); + k = parent(k); + } + } + + // 看堆中的最大元素 + public E findMax(){ + if(data.getSize() == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Can not findMax when heap is empty."); + return data.get(0); + } + + // 取出堆中最大元素 + public E extractMax(){ + + E ret = findMax(); + + data.swap(0, data.getSize() - 1); + data.removeLast(); + siftDown(0); + + return ret; + } + + private void siftDown(int k){ + + while(leftChild(k) < data.getSize()){ + int j = leftChild(k); // 在此轮循环中,data[k]和data[j]交换位置 + if( j + 1 < data.getSize() && + data.get(j + 1).compareTo(data.get(j)) > 0 ) + j ++; + // data[j] 是 leftChild 和 rightChild 中的最大值 + + if(data.get(k).compareTo(data.get(j)) >= 0 ) + break; + + data.swap(k, j); + k = j; + } + } + + // 取出堆中的最大元素，并且替换成元素e + public E replace(E e){ + + E ret = findMax(); + data.set(0, e); + siftDown(0); + return ret; + } + } + + public interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); + } + + public class PriorityQueue> implements Queue { + + private MaxHeap maxHeap; + + public PriorityQueue(){ + maxHeap = new MaxHeap<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return maxHeap.size(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return maxHeap.isEmpty(); + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + return maxHeap.findMax(); + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + maxHeap.add(e); + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + return maxHeap.extractMax(); + } + } + + private class Freq implements Comparable{ + + public int e, freq; + + public Freq(int e, int freq){ + this.e = e; + this.freq = freq; + } + + @Override + public int compareTo(Freq another){ + if(this.freq < another.freq) + return 1; + else if(this.freq > another.freq) + return -1; + else + return 0; + } + } + + public List topKFrequent(int[] nums, int k) { + + TreeMap map = new TreeMap<>(); + for(int num: nums){ + if(map.containsKey(num)) + map.put(num, map.get(num) + 1); + else + map.put(num, 1); + } + + PriorityQueue pq = new PriorityQueue<>(); + for(int key: map.keySet()){ + if(pq.getSize() < k) + pq.enqueue(new Freq(key, map.get(key))); + else if(map.get(key) > pq.getFront().freq){ + pq.dequeue(); + pq.enqueue(new Freq(key, map.get(key))); + } + } + + LinkedList res = new LinkedList<>(); + while(!pq.isEmpty()) + res.add(pq.dequeue().e); + return res; + } + + private static void printList(List nums){ + for(Integer num: nums) + System.out.print(num + " "); + System.out.println(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int[] nums = {1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3}; + int k = 2; + printList((new Solution()).topKFrequent(nums, k)); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/map/BSTMap.java b/src/datastructure/map/BSTMap.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e333621 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/map/BSTMap.java @@ -0,0 +1,200 @@ +package datastructure.map; + +import java.util.ArrayList; + +public class BSTMap, V> implements Map { + + private class Node{ + public K key; + public V value; + public Node left, right; + + public Node(K key, V value){ + this.key = key; + this.value = value; + left = null; + right = null; + } + } + + private Node root; + private int size; + + public BSTMap(){ + root = null; + size = 0; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 向二分搜索树中添加新的元素(key, value) + @Override + public void add(K key, V value){ + root = add(root, key, value); + } + + // 向以node为根的二分搜索树中插入元素(key, value)，递归算法 + // 返回插入新节点后二分搜索树的根 + private Node add(Node node, K key, V value){ + + if(node == null){ + size ++; + return new Node(key, value); + } + + if(key.compareTo(node.key) < 0) + node.left = add(node.left, key, value); + else if(key.compareTo(node.key) > 0) + node.right = add(node.right, key, value); + else // key.compareTo(node.key) == 0 + node.value = value; + + return node; + } + + // 返回以node为根节点的二分搜索树中，key所在的节点 + private Node getNode(Node node, K key){ + + if(node == null) + return null; + + if(key.equals(node.key)) + return node; + else if(key.compareTo(node.key) < 0) + return getNode(node.left, key); + else // if(key.compareTo(node.key) > 0) + return getNode(node.right, key); + } + + @Override + public boolean contains(K key){ + return getNode(root, key) != null; + } + + @Override + public V get(K key){ + + Node node = getNode(root, key); + return node == null ? null : node.value; + } + + @Override + public void set(K key, V newValue){ + Node node = getNode(root, key); + if(node == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException(key + " doesn't exist!"); + + node.value = newValue; + } + + // 返回以node为根的二分搜索树的最小值所在的节点 + private Node minimum(Node node){ + if(node.left == null) + return node; + return minimum(node.left); + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中的最小节点 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node removeMin(Node node){ + + if(node.left == null){ + Node rightNode = node.right; + node.right = null; + size --; + return rightNode; + } + + node.left = removeMin(node.left); + return node; + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除键为key的节点 + @Override + public V remove(K key){ + + Node node = getNode(root, key); + if(node != null){ + root = remove(root, key); + return node.value; + } + return null; + } + + private Node remove(Node node, K key){ + + if( node == null ) + return null; + + if( key.compareTo(node.key) < 0 ){ + node.left = remove(node.left , key); + return node; + } + else if(key.compareTo(node.key) > 0 ){ + node.right = remove(node.right, key); + return node; + } + else{ // key.compareTo(node.key) == 0 + + // 待删除节点左子树为空的情况 + if(node.left == null){ + Node rightNode = node.right; + node.right = null; + size --; + return rightNode; + } + + // 待删除节点右子树为空的情况 + if(node.right == null){ + Node leftNode = node.left; + node.left = null; + size --; + return leftNode; + } + + // 待删除节点左右子树均不为空的情况 + + // 找到比待删除节点大的最小节点, 即待删除节点右子树的最小节点 + // 用这个节点顶替待删除节点的位置 + Node successor = minimum(node.right); + successor.right = removeMin(node.right); + successor.left = node.left; + + node.left = node.right = null; + + return successor; + } + } + + public static void main(String[] args){ + + System.out.println("Pride and Prejudice"); + + ArrayList words = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile("pride-and-prejudice.txt", words)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words.size()); + + BSTMap map = new BSTMap<>(); + for (String word : words) { + if (map.contains(word)) + map.set(word, map.get(word) + 1); + else + map.add(word, 1); + } + + System.out.println("Total different words: " + map.getSize()); + System.out.println("Frequency of PRIDE: " + map.get("pride")); + System.out.println("Frequency of PREJUDICE: " + map.get("prejudice")); + } + + System.out.println(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/map/FileOperation.java b/src/datastructure/map/FileOperation.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3d073e --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/map/FileOperation.java @@ -0,0 +1,69 @@ +package datastructure.map; + +import java.io.BufferedInputStream; +import java.io.File; +import java.io.FileInputStream; +import java.io.IOException; +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.Locale; +import java.util.Scanner; + +// 文件相关操作 +public class FileOperation { + + // 读取文件名称为filename中的内容，并将其中包含的所有词语放进words中 + public static boolean readFile(String filename, ArrayList words){ + + if (filename == null || words == null){ + System.out.println("filename is null or words is null"); + return false; + } + + // 文件读取 + Scanner scanner; + + try { + File file = new File(filename); + if(file.exists()){ + FileInputStream fis = new FileInputStream(file); + scanner = new Scanner(new BufferedInputStream(fis), "UTF-8"); + scanner.useLocale(Locale.ENGLISH); + } + else + return false; + } + catch(IOException ioe){ + System.out.println("Cannot open " + filename); + return false; + } + + // 简单分词 + // 这个分词方式相对简陋, 没有考虑很多文本处理中的特殊问题 + // 在这里只做demo展示用 + if (scanner.hasNextLine()) { + + String contents = scanner.useDelimiter("\\A").next(); + + int start = firstCharacterIndex(contents, 0); + for (int i = start + 1; i <= contents.length(); ) + if (i == contents.length() || !Character.isLetter(contents.charAt(i))) { + String word = contents.substring(start, i).toLowerCase(); + words.add(word); + start = firstCharacterIndex(contents, i); + i = start + 1; + } else + i++; + } + + return true; + } + + // 寻找字符串s中，从start的位置开始的第一个字母字符的位置 + private static int firstCharacterIndex(String s, int start){ + + for( int i = start ; i < s.length() ; i ++ ) + if( Character.isLetter(s.charAt(i)) ) + return i; + return s.length(); + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/map/LinkedListMap.java b/src/datastructure/map/LinkedListMap.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..91bac04 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/map/LinkedListMap.java @@ -0,0 +1,135 @@ +package datastructure.map; + +import java.util.ArrayList; + +public class LinkedListMap implements Map { + + private class Node{ + public K key; + public V value; + public Node next; + + public Node(K key, V value, Node next){ + this.key = key; + this.value = value; + this.next = next; + } + + public Node(K key, V value){ + this(key, value, null); + } + + public Node(){ + this(null, null, null); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + return key.toString() + " : " + value.toString(); + } + } + + private Node dummyHead; + private int size; + + public LinkedListMap(){ + dummyHead = new Node(); + size = 0; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + private Node getNode(K key){ + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + while(cur != null){ + if(cur.key.equals(key)) + return cur; + cur = cur.next; + } + return null; + } + + @Override + public boolean contains(K key){ + return getNode(key) != null; + } + + @Override + public V get(K key){ + Node node = getNode(key); + return node == null ? null : node.value; + } + + @Override + public void add(K key, V value){ + Node node = getNode(key); + if(node == null){ + dummyHead.next = new Node(key, value, dummyHead.next); + size ++; + } + else + node.value = value; + } + + @Override + public void set(K key, V newValue){ + Node node = getNode(key); + if(node == null) + throw new IllegalArgumentException(key + " doesn't exist!"); + + node.value = newValue; + } + + @Override + public V remove(K key){ + + Node prev = dummyHead; + while(prev.next != null){ + if(prev.next.key.equals(key)) + break; + prev = prev.next; + } + + if(prev.next != null){ + Node delNode = prev.next; + prev.next = delNode.next; + delNode.next = null; + size --; + return delNode.value; + } + + return null; + } + + public static void main(String[] args){ + + System.out.println("Pride and Prejudice"); + + ArrayList words = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile("pride-and-prejudice.txt", words)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words.size()); + + LinkedListMap map = new LinkedListMap<>(); + for (String word : words) { + if (map.contains(word)) + map.set(word, map.get(word) + 1); + else + map.add(word, 1); + } + + System.out.println("Total different words: " + map.getSize()); + System.out.println("Frequency of PRIDE: " + map.get("pride")); + System.out.println("Frequency of PREJUDICE: " + map.get("prejudice")); + } + + System.out.println(); + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/map/Main.java b/src/datastructure/map/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..167523d --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/map/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,48 @@ +package datastructure.map; + +import java.util.ArrayList; + +public class Main { + + private static double testMap(Map map, String filename){ + + long startTime = System.nanoTime(); + + System.out.println(filename); + ArrayList words = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile(filename, words)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words.size()); + + for (String word : words){ + if(map.contains(word)) + map.set(word, map.get(word) + 1); + else + map.add(word, 1); + } + + System.out.println("Total different words: " + map.getSize()); + System.out.println("Frequency of PRIDE: " + map.get("pride")); + System.out.println("Frequency of PREJUDICE: " + map.get("prejudice")); + } + + long endTime = System.nanoTime(); + + return (endTime - startTime) / 1000000000.0; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + String filename = "pride-and-prejudice.txt"; + + BSTMap bstMap = new BSTMap<>(); + double time1 = testMap(bstMap, filename); + System.out.println("BST Map: " + time1 + " s"); + + System.out.println(); + + LinkedListMap linkedListMap = new LinkedListMap<>(); + double time2 = testMap(linkedListMap, filename); + System.out.println("Linked List Map: " + time2 + " s"); + + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/map/Map.java b/src/datastructure/map/Map.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..591bac3 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/map/Map.java @@ -0,0 +1,12 @@ +package datastructure.map; + +public interface Map { + + void add(K key, V value); + boolean contains(K key); + V get(K key); + void set(K key, V newValue); + V remove(K key); + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/LoopQueue.java b/src/datastructure/queue/LoopQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..688f6f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/LoopQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,158 @@ +package datastructure.queue; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.List; +import javafx.util.Pair; + +/// Leetcode 102. Binary Tree Level Order Traversal +/// https://leetcode.com/problems/binary-tree-level-order-traversal/description/ +/// 二叉树的层序遍历 +/// +/// 二叉树的层序遍历是一个典型的可以借助队列解决的问题。 +/// 该代码主要用于使用Leetcode上的问题测试我们的LoopQueue。 +/// 对于二叉树的层序遍历，这个课程后续会讲到。 +/// 届时，同学们也可以再回头看这个代码。 +/// 不过到时，大家应该已经学会自己编写二叉树的层序遍历啦：） + +class Solution{ + + /// Definition for a binary tree node. + private class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + TreeNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + private interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); + } + + private class LoopQueue implements Queue { + + private E[] data; + private int front, tail; + private int size; // 有兴趣的同学，在完成这一章后，可以思考一下： + // LoopQueue中不声明size，如何完成所有的逻辑？ + // 这个问题可能会比大家想象的要难一点点：） + + public LoopQueue(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity + 1]; + front = 0; + tail = 0; + size = 0; + } + + public LoopQueue(){ + this(10); + } + + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length - 1; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return front == tail; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + + if((tail + 1) % data.length == front) + resize(getCapacity() * 2); + + data[tail] = e; + tail = (tail + 1) % data.length; + size ++; + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Cannot dequeue from an empty queue."); + + E ret = data[front]; + data[front] = null; + front = (front + 1) % data.length; + size --; + if(size == getCapacity() / 4 && getCapacity() / 2 != 0) + resize(getCapacity() / 2); + return ret; + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Queue is empty."); + return data[front]; + } + + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity + 1]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[(i + front) % data.length]; + + data = newData; + front = 0; + tail = size; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Queue: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, getCapacity())); + res.append("front ["); + for(int i = front ; i != tail ; i = (i + 1) % data.length){ + res.append(data[i]); + if((i + 1) % data.length != tail) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + } + + public List> levelOrder(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList> res = new ArrayList>(); + if(root == null) + return res; + + // 我们使用LinkedList来做为我们的先入先出的队列 + LoopQueue> queue = new LoopQueue>(); + queue.enqueue(new Pair(root, 0)); + + while(!queue.isEmpty()){ + + Pair front = queue.dequeue(); + TreeNode node = front.getKey(); + int level = front.getValue(); + + if(level == res.size()) + res.add(new ArrayList()); + assert level < res.size(); + + res.get(level).add(node.val); + if(node.left != null) + queue.enqueue(new Pair(node.left, level + 1)); + if(node.right != null) + queue.enqueue(new Pair(node.right, level + 1)); + } + + return res; + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/NormalQueue.java b/src/datastructure/queue/NormalQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5153f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/NormalQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,277 @@ +package datastructure.queue; + +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.List; +import javafx.util.Pair; + +/// Leetcode 102. Binary Tree Level Order Traversal +/// https://leetcode.com/problems/binary-tree-level-order-traversal/description/ +/// 二叉树的层序遍历 +/// +/// 二叉树的层序遍历是一个典型的可以借助队列解决的问题。 +/// 该代码主要用于使用Leetcode上的问题测试我们的ArrayQueue。 +/// 对于二叉树的层序遍历，这个课程后续会讲到。 +/// 届时，同学们也可以再回头看这个代码。 +/// 不过到时，大家应该已经学会自己编写二叉树的层序遍历啦：） + +class NormalQueue { + + /// Definition for a binary tree node. + private class TreeNode { + int val; + TreeNode left; + TreeNode right; + TreeNode(int x) { val = x; } + } + + private class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array(){ + this(10); + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if(size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for(int i = size - 1; i >= index ; i --) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size ++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + public E getLast(){ + return get(size - 1); + } + + public E getFirst(){ + return get(0); + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for(int i = index + 1 ; i < size ; i ++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size --; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if(size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + int index = find(e); + if(index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + res.append(data[i]); + if(i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } + } + + private interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); + } + + private class ArrayQueue implements Queue { + + private Array array; + + public ArrayQueue(int capacity){ + array = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public ArrayQueue(){ + array = new Array<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return array.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return array.isEmpty(); + } + + public int getCapacity(){ + return array.getCapacity(); + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + array.addLast(e); + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + return array.removeFirst(); + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + return array.getFirst(); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Queue: "); + res.append("front ["); + for(int i = 0 ; i < array.getSize() ; i ++){ + res.append(array.get(i)); + if(i != array.getSize() - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + } + + public List> levelOrder(TreeNode root) { + + ArrayList> res = new ArrayList>(); + if(root == null) + return res; + + // 我们使用LinkedList来做为我们的先入先出的队列 + ArrayQueue> queue = new ArrayQueue>(); + queue.enqueue(new Pair(root, 0)); + + while(!queue.isEmpty()){ + + Pair front = queue.dequeue(); + TreeNode node = front.getKey(); + int level = front.getValue(); + + if(level == res.size()) + res.add(new ArrayList()); + assert level < res.size(); + + res.get(level).add(node.val); + if(node.left != null) + queue.enqueue(new Pair(node.left, level + 1)); + if(node.right != null) + queue.enqueue(new Pair(node.right, level + 1)); + } + + return res; + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/test/Array.java b/src/datastructure/queue/test/Array.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e805edb --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/test/Array.java @@ -0,0 +1,157 @@ +package datastructure.queue.test; + +public class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array(){ + this(10); + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if(size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for(int i = size - 1; i >= index ; i --) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size ++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + public E getLast(){ + return get(size - 1); + } + + public E getFirst(){ + return get(0); + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for(int i = index + 1 ; i < size ; i ++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size --; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if(size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + int index = find(e); + if(index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + res.append(data[i]); + if(i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/test/ArrayQueue.java b/src/datastructure/queue/test/ArrayQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2b5f5b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/test/ArrayQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,72 @@ +package datastructure.queue.test; + +public class ArrayQueue implements Queue { + + private Array array; + + public ArrayQueue(int capacity){ + array = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public ArrayQueue(){ + array = new Array<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return array.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return array.isEmpty(); + } + + public int getCapacity(){ + return array.getCapacity(); + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + array.addLast(e); + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + return array.removeFirst(); + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + return array.getFirst(); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Queue: "); + res.append("front ["); + for(int i = 0 ; i < array.getSize() ; i ++){ + res.append(array.get(i)); + if(i != array.getSize() - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args){ + + ArrayQueue queue = new ArrayQueue<>(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < 10 ; i ++){ + queue.enqueue(i); + System.out.println(queue); + + if(i % 3 == 2){ + queue.dequeue(); + System.out.println(queue); + } + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/test/LoopQueue.java b/src/datastructure/queue/test/LoopQueue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..143f7a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/test/LoopQueue.java @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +package datastructure.queue.test; + +public class LoopQueue implements Queue { + + private E[] data; + private int front, tail; + private int size; // 有兴趣的同学，在完成这一章后，可以思考一下： + // LoopQueue中不声明size，如何完成所有的逻辑？ + // 这个问题可能会比大家想象的要难一点点：） + + public LoopQueue(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity + 1]; + front = 0; + tail = 0; + size = 0; + } + + public LoopQueue(){ + this(10); + } + + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length - 1; + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return front == tail; + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + @Override + public void enqueue(E e){ + + if((tail + 1) % data.length == front) + resize(getCapacity() * 2); + + data[tail] = e; + tail = (tail + 1) % data.length; + size ++; + } + + @Override + public E dequeue(){ + + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Cannot dequeue from an empty queue."); + + E ret = data[front]; + data[front] = null; + front = (front + 1) % data.length; + size --; + if(size == getCapacity() / 4 && getCapacity() / 2 != 0) + resize(getCapacity() / 2); + return ret; + } + + @Override + public E getFront(){ + if(isEmpty()) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Queue is empty."); + return data[front]; + } + + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity + 1]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[(i + front) % data.length]; + + data = newData; + front = 0; + tail = size; + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Queue: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, getCapacity())); + res.append("front ["); + for(int i = front ; i != tail ; i = (i + 1) % data.length){ + res.append(data[i]); + if((i + 1) % data.length != tail) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] tail"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args){ + + LoopQueue queue = new LoopQueue<>(5); + for(int i = 0 ; i < 10 ; i ++){ + queue.enqueue(i); + System.out.println(queue); + + if(i % 3 == 2){ + queue.dequeue(); + System.out.println(queue); + } + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/test/Main.java b/src/datastructure/queue/test/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..071056b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/test/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,35 @@ +package datastructure.queue.test; + +import java.util.Random; + +public class Main { + + // 测试使用q运行opCount个enqueueu和dequeue操作所需要的时间，单位：秒 + private static double testQueue(Queue q, int opCount){ + + long startTime = System.nanoTime(); + + Random random = new Random(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < opCount ; i ++) + q.enqueue(random.nextInt(Integer.MAX_VALUE)); + for(int i = 0 ; i < opCount ; i ++) + q.dequeue(); + + long endTime = System.nanoTime(); + + return (endTime - startTime) / 1000000000.0; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int opCount = 100000; + + ArrayQueue arrayQueue = new ArrayQueue<>(); + double time1 = testQueue(arrayQueue, opCount); + System.out.println("ArrayQueue, time: " + time1 + " s"); + + LoopQueue loopQueue = new LoopQueue<>(); + double time2 = testQueue(loopQueue, opCount); + System.out.println("LoopQueue, time: " + time2 + " s"); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/queue/test/Queue.java b/src/datastructure/queue/test/Queue.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5232a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/queue/test/Queue.java @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package datastructure.queue.test; + +public interface Queue { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void enqueue(E e); + E dequeue(); + E getFront(); +} diff --git a/src/queue/Queue.java b/src/datastructure/queue_old/Queue.java similarity index 100% rename from src/queue/Queue.java rename to src/datastructure/queue_old/Queue.java diff --git a/src/queue/QueueTest.java b/src/datastructure/queue_old/QueueTest.java similarity index 100% rename from src/queue/QueueTest.java rename to src/datastructure/queue_old/QueueTest.java diff --git a/src/datastructure/recursion/ListNode.java b/src/datastructure/recursion/ListNode.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c26a39 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/recursion/ListNode.java @@ -0,0 +1,41 @@ +package datastructure.recursion; + +//Definition for singly-linked list. +public class ListNode { + + public int val; + public ListNode next; + + public ListNode(int x) { + val = x; + } + + // 链表节点的构造函数 + // 使用arr为参数，创建一个链表，当前的ListNode为链表头结点 + public ListNode(int[] arr){ + + if(arr == null || arr.length == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("arr can not be empty"); + + this.val = arr[0]; + ListNode cur = this; + for(int i = 1 ; i < arr.length ; i ++){ + cur.next = new ListNode(arr[i]); + cur = cur.next; + } + } + + // 以当前节点为头结点的链表信息字符串 + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder s = new StringBuilder(); + ListNode cur = this; + while(cur != null){ + s.append(cur.val + "->"); + cur = cur.next; + } + s.append("NULL"); + return s.toString(); + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/recursion/Solution.java b/src/datastructure/recursion/Solution.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfc9751 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/recursion/Solution.java @@ -0,0 +1,52 @@ +package datastructure.recursion; + +public class Solution { + + public ListNode removeElements(ListNode head, int val, int depth) { + + String depthString = generateDepthString(depth); + + System.out.print(depthString); + System.out.println("Call: remove " + val + " in " + head); + + if(head == null){ + System.out.print(depthString); + System.out.println("Return: " + head); + return head; + } + + ListNode res = removeElements(head.next, val, depth + 1); + System.out.print(depthString); + System.out.println("After remove " + val + ": " + res); + + ListNode ret; + if(head.val == val) + ret = res; + else{ + head.next = res; + ret = head; + } + System.out.print(depthString); + System.out.println("Return: " + ret); + + return ret; + } + + private String generateDepthString(int depth){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < depth ; i ++) + res.append("--"); + return res.toString(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + int[] nums = {1, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 6}; + ListNode head = new ListNode(nums); + System.out.println(head); + + ListNode res = (new Solution()).removeElements(head, 6, 0); + System.out.println(res); + } + +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/BST.java b/src/datastructure/set/BST.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7da188 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/BST.java @@ -0,0 +1,310 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +import java.util.LinkedList; +import java.util.Queue; +import java.util.Stack; + +public class BST> { + + private class Node{ + public E e; + public Node left, right; + + public Node(E e){ + this.e = e; + left = null; + right = null; + } + } + + private Node root; + private int size; + + public BST(){ + root = null; + size = 0; + } + + public int size(){ + return size; + } + + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 向二分搜索树中添加新的元素e + public void add(E e){ + root = add(root, e); + } + + // 向以node为根的二分搜索树中插入元素e，递归算法 + // 返回插入新节点后二分搜索树的根 + private Node add(Node node, E e){ + + if(node == null){ + size ++; + return new Node(e); + } + + if(e.compareTo(node.e) < 0) + node.left = add(node.left, e); + else if(e.compareTo(node.e) > 0) + node.right = add(node.right, e); + + return node; + } + + // 看二分搜索树中是否包含元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + return contains(root, e); + } + + // 看以node为根的二分搜索树中是否包含元素e, 递归算法 + private boolean contains(Node node, E e){ + + if(node == null) + return false; + + if(e.compareTo(node.e) == 0) + return true; + else if(e.compareTo(node.e) < 0) + return contains(node.left, e); + else // e.compareTo(node.e) > 0 + return contains(node.right, e); + } + + // 二分搜索树的前序遍历 + public void preOrder(){ + preOrder(root); + } + + // 前序遍历以node为根的二分搜索树, 递归算法 + private void preOrder(Node node){ + + if(node == null) + return; + + System.out.println(node.e); + preOrder(node.left); + preOrder(node.right); + } + + // 二分搜索树的非递归前序遍历 + public void preOrderNR(){ + + Stack stack = new Stack<>(); + stack.push(root); + while(!stack.isEmpty()){ + Node cur = stack.pop(); + System.out.println(cur.e); + + if(cur.right != null) + stack.push(cur.right); + if(cur.left != null) + stack.push(cur.left); + } + } + + // 二分搜索树的中序遍历 + public void inOrder(){ + inOrder(root); + } + + // 中序遍历以node为根的二分搜索树, 递归算法 + private void inOrder(Node node){ + + if(node == null) + return; + + inOrder(node.left); + System.out.println(node.e); + inOrder(node.right); + } + + // 二分搜索树的后序遍历 + public void postOrder(){ + postOrder(root); + } + + // 后序遍历以node为根的二分搜索树, 递归算法 + private void postOrder(Node node){ + + if(node == null) + return; + + postOrder(node.left); + postOrder(node.right); + System.out.println(node.e); + } + + // 二分搜索树的层序遍历 + public void levelOrder(){ + + Queue q = new LinkedList<>(); + q.add(root); + while(!q.isEmpty()){ + Node cur = q.remove(); + System.out.println(cur.e); + + if(cur.left != null) + q.add(cur.left); + if(cur.right != null) + q.add(cur.right); + } + } + + // 寻找二分搜索树的最小元素 + public E minimum(){ + if(size == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("BST is empty!"); + + return minimum(root).e; + } + + // 返回以node为根的二分搜索树的最小值所在的节点 + private Node minimum(Node node){ + if(node.left == null) + return node; + return minimum(node.left); + } + + // 寻找二分搜索树的最大元素 + public E maximum(){ + if(size == 0) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("BST is empty"); + + return maximum(root).e; + } + + // 返回以node为根的二分搜索树的最大值所在的节点 + private Node maximum(Node node){ + if(node.right == null) + return node; + + return maximum(node.right); + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除最小值所在节点, 返回最小值 + public E removeMin(){ + E ret = minimum(); + root = removeMin(root); + return ret; + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中的最小节点 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node removeMin(Node node){ + + if(node.left == null){ + Node rightNode = node.right; + node.right = null; + size --; + return rightNode; + } + + node.left = removeMin(node.left); + return node; + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除最大值所在节点 + public E removeMax(){ + E ret = maximum(); + root = removeMax(root); + return ret; + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中的最大节点 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node removeMax(Node node){ + + if(node.right == null){ + Node leftNode = node.left; + node.left = null; + size --; + return leftNode; + } + + node.right = removeMax(node.right); + return node; + } + + // 从二分搜索树中删除元素为e的节点 + public void remove(E e){ + root = remove(root, e); + } + + // 删除掉以node为根的二分搜索树中值为e的节点, 递归算法 + // 返回删除节点后新的二分搜索树的根 + private Node remove(Node node, E e){ + + if( node == null ) + return null; + + if( e.compareTo(node.e) < 0 ){ + node.left = remove(node.left , e); + return node; + } + else if(e.compareTo(node.e) > 0 ){ + node.right = remove(node.right, e); + return node; + } + else{ // e.compareTo(node.e) == 0 + + // 待删除节点左子树为空的情况 + if(node.left == null){ + Node rightNode = node.right; + node.right = null; + size --; + return rightNode; + } + + // 待删除节点右子树为空的情况 + if(node.right == null){ + Node leftNode = node.left; + node.left = null; + size --; + return leftNode; + } + + // 待删除节点左右子树均不为空的情况 + + // 找到比待删除节点大的最小节点, 即待删除节点右子树的最小节点 + // 用这个节点顶替待删除节点的位置 + Node successor = minimum(node.right); + successor.right = removeMin(node.right); + successor.left = node.left; + + node.left = node.right = null; + + return successor; + } + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + generateBSTString(root, 0, res); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 生成以node为根节点，深度为depth的描述二叉树的字符串 + private void generateBSTString(Node node, int depth, StringBuilder res){ + + if(node == null){ + res.append(generateDepthString(depth) + "null\n"); + return; + } + + res.append(generateDepthString(depth) + node.e +"\n"); + generateBSTString(node.left, depth + 1, res); + generateBSTString(node.right, depth + 1, res); + } + + private String generateDepthString(int depth){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < depth ; i ++) + res.append("--"); + return res.toString(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/BSTSet.java b/src/datastructure/set/BSTSet.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..96e35b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/BSTSet.java @@ -0,0 +1,67 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +import java.util.ArrayList; + +public class BSTSet> implements Set { + + private BST bst; + + public BSTSet(){ + bst = new BST<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return bst.size(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return bst.isEmpty(); + } + + @Override + public void add(E e){ + bst.add(e); + } + + @Override + public boolean contains(E e){ + return bst.contains(e); + } + + @Override + public void remove(E e){ + bst.remove(e); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + System.out.println("Pride and Prejudice"); + + ArrayList words1 = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile("pride-and-prejudice.txt", words1)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words1.size()); + + BSTSet set1 = new BSTSet<>(); + for (String word : words1) + set1.add(word); + System.out.println("Total different words: " + set1.getSize()); + } + + System.out.println(); + + + System.out.println("A Tale of Two Cities"); + + ArrayList words2 = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile("a-tale-of-two-cities.txt", words2)){ + System.out.println("Total words: " + words2.size()); + + BSTSet set2 = new BSTSet<>(); + for(String word: words2) + set2.add(word); + System.out.println("Total different words: " + set2.getSize()); + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/FileOperation.java b/src/datastructure/set/FileOperation.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5faf8a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/FileOperation.java @@ -0,0 +1,69 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +import java.io.BufferedInputStream; +import java.io.File; +import java.io.FileInputStream; +import java.io.IOException; +import java.util.ArrayList; +import java.util.Locale; +import java.util.Scanner; + +// 文件相关操作 +public class FileOperation { + + // 读取文件名称为filename中的内容，并将其中包含的所有词语放进words中 + public static boolean readFile(String filename, ArrayList words){ + + if (filename == null || words == null){ + System.out.println("filename is null or words is null"); + return false; + } + + // 文件读取 + Scanner scanner; + + try { + File file = new File(filename); + if(file.exists()){ + FileInputStream fis = new FileInputStream(file); + scanner = new Scanner(new BufferedInputStream(fis), "UTF-8"); + scanner.useLocale(Locale.ENGLISH); + } + else + return false; + } + catch(IOException ioe){ + System.out.println("Cannot open " + filename); + return false; + } + + // 简单分词 + // 这个分词方式相对简陋, 没有考虑很多文本处理中的特殊问题 + // 在这里只做demo展示用 + if (scanner.hasNextLine()) { + + String contents = scanner.useDelimiter("\\A").next(); + + int start = firstCharacterIndex(contents, 0); + for (int i = start + 1; i <= contents.length(); ) + if (i == contents.length() || !Character.isLetter(contents.charAt(i))) { + String word = contents.substring(start, i).toLowerCase(); + words.add(word); + start = firstCharacterIndex(contents, i); + i = start + 1; + } else + i++; + } + + return true; + } + + // 寻找字符串s中，从start的位置开始的第一个字母字符的位置 + private static int firstCharacterIndex(String s, int start){ + + for( int i = start ; i < s.length() ; i ++ ) + if( Character.isLetter(s.charAt(i)) ) + return i; + return s.length(); + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/LinkedList.java b/src/datastructure/set/LinkedList.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f407669 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/LinkedList.java @@ -0,0 +1,176 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +public class LinkedList { + + private class Node{ + public E e; + public Node next; + + public Node(E e, Node next){ + this.e = e; + this.next = next; + } + + public Node(E e){ + this(e, null); + } + + public Node(){ + this(null, null); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + return e.toString(); + } + } + + private Node dummyHead; + private int size; + + public LinkedList(){ + dummyHead = new Node(); + size = 0; + } + + // 获取链表中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回链表是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在链表的index(0-based)位置添加新的元素e + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Illegal index."); + + Node prev = dummyHead; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + prev = prev.next; + + prev.next = new Node(e, prev.next); + size ++; + } + + // 在链表头添加新的元素e + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 在链表末尾添加新的元素e + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 获得链表的第index(0-based)个位置的元素 + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public E get(int index){ + + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Illegal index."); + + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + cur = cur.next; + return cur.e; + } + + // 获得链表的第一个元素 + public E getFirst(){ + return get(0); + } + + // 获得链表的最后一个元素 + public E getLast(){ + return get(size - 1); + } + + // 修改链表的第index(0-based)个位置的元素为e + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Illegal index."); + + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + cur = cur.next; + cur.e = e; + } + + // 查找链表中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + while(cur != null){ + if(cur.e.equals(e)) + return true; + cur = cur.next; + } + return false; + } + + // 从链表中删除index(0-based)位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + // 在链表中不是一个常用的操作，练习用：） + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + Node prev = dummyHead; + for(int i = 0 ; i < index ; i ++) + prev = prev.next; + + Node retNode = prev.next; + prev.next = retNode.next; + retNode.next = null; + size --; + + return retNode.e; + } + + // 从链表中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从链表中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从链表中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + + Node prev = dummyHead; + while(prev.next != null){ + if(prev.next.e.equals(e)) + break; + prev = prev.next; + } + + if(prev.next != null){ + Node delNode = prev.next; + prev.next = delNode.next; + delNode.next = null; + size --; + } + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + + Node cur = dummyHead.next; + while(cur != null){ + res.append(cur + "->"); + cur = cur.next; + } + res.append("NULL"); + + return res.toString(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/LinkedListSet.java b/src/datastructure/set/LinkedListSet.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7954387 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/LinkedListSet.java @@ -0,0 +1,68 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +import java.util.ArrayList; + +public class LinkedListSet implements Set { + + private LinkedList list; + + public LinkedListSet(){ + list = new LinkedList<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize(){ + return list.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return list.isEmpty(); + } + + @Override + public void add(E e){ + if(!list.contains(e)) + list.addFirst(e); + } + + @Override + public boolean contains(E e){ + return list.contains(e); + } + + @Override + public void remove(E e){ + list.removeElement(e); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + System.out.println("Pride and Prejudice"); + + ArrayList words1 = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile("pride-and-prejudice.txt", words1)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words1.size()); + + LinkedListSet set1 = new LinkedListSet<>(); + for (String word : words1) + set1.add(word); + System.out.println("Total different words: " + set1.getSize()); + } + + System.out.println(); + + + System.out.println("A Tale of Two Cities"); + + ArrayList words2 = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile("a-tale-of-two-cities.txt", words2)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words2.size()); + + LinkedListSet set2 = new LinkedListSet<>(); + for (String word : words2) + set2.add(word); + System.out.println("Total different words: " + set2.getSize()); + } + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/Main.java b/src/datastructure/set/Main.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2b16a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/Main.java @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +import java.util.ArrayList; + +public class Main { + + private static double testSet(Set set, String filename){ + + long startTime = System.nanoTime(); + + System.out.println(filename); + ArrayList words = new ArrayList<>(); + if(FileOperation.readFile(filename, words)) { + System.out.println("Total words: " + words.size()); + + for (String word : words) + set.add(word); + System.out.println("Total different words: " + set.getSize()); + } + long endTime = System.nanoTime(); + + return (endTime - startTime) / 1000000000.0; + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + String filename = "pride-and-prejudice.txt"; + + BSTSet bstSet = new BSTSet<>(); + double time1 = testSet(bstSet, filename); + System.out.println("BST Set: " + time1 + " s"); + + System.out.println(); + + LinkedListSet linkedListSet = new LinkedListSet<>(); + double time2 = testSet(linkedListSet, filename); + System.out.println("Linked List Set: " + time2 + " s"); + + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/Set.java b/src/datastructure/set/Set.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2c2742 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/Set.java @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package datastructure.set; + +public interface Set { + + void add(E e); + boolean contains(E e); + void remove(E e); + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/set/a-tale-of-two-cities.txt b/src/datastructure/set/a-tale-of-two-cities.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..efd5293 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/set/a-tale-of-two-cities.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16272 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Tale of Two Cities + A Story of the French Revolution + +Author: Charles Dickens + +Release Date: January, 1994 [EBook #98] +Posting Date: November 28, 2009 +Last Updated: March 4, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF TWO CITIES *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss + + + + + + + + +A TALE OF TWO CITIES + +A STORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION + +By Charles Dickens + + +CONTENTS + + + Book the First--Recalled to Life + + Chapter I The Period + Chapter II The Mail + Chapter III The Night Shadows + Chapter IV The Preparation + Chapter V The Wine-shop + Chapter VI The Shoemaker + + + Book the Second--the Golden Thread + + Chapter I Five Years Later + Chapter II A Sight + Chapter III A Disappointment + Chapter IV Congratulatory + Chapter V The Jackal + Chapter VI Hundreds of People + Chapter VII Monseigneur in Town + Chapter VIII Monseigneur in the Country + Chapter IX The Gorgon's Head + Chapter X Two Promises + Chapter XI A Companion Picture + Chapter XII The Fellow of Delicacy + Chapter XIII The Fellow of no Delicacy + Chapter XIV The Honest Tradesman + Chapter XV Knitting + Chapter XVI Still Knitting + Chapter XVII One Night + Chapter XVIII Nine Days + Chapter XIX An Opinion + Chapter XX A Plea + Chapter XXI Echoing Footsteps + Chapter XXII The Sea Still Rises + Chapter XXIII Fire Rises + Chapter XXIV Drawn to the Loadstone Rock + + + Book the Third--the Track of a Storm + + Chapter I In Secret + Chapter II The Grindstone + Chapter III The Shadow + Chapter IV Calm in Storm + Chapter V The Wood-sawyer + Chapter VI Triumph + Chapter VII A Knock at the Door + Chapter VIII A Hand at Cards + Chapter IX The Game Made + Chapter X The Substance of the Shadow + Chapter XI Dusk + Chapter XII Darkness + Chapter XIII Fifty-two + Chapter XIV The Knitting Done + Chapter XV The Footsteps Die Out For Ever + + + + + +Book the First--Recalled to Life + + + + +I. The Period + + +It was the best of times, +it was the worst of times, +it was the age of wisdom, +it was the age of foolishness, +it was the epoch of belief, +it was the epoch of incredulity, +it was the season of Light, +it was the season of Darkness, +it was the spring of hope, +it was the winter of despair, +we had everything before us, +we had nothing before us, +we were all going direct to Heaven, +we were all going direct the other way-- +in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of +its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for +evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. + +There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the +throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with +a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer +than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, +that things in general were settled for ever. + +It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. +Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, +as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth +blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had +heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were +made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane +ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its +messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally +deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the +earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, +from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange +to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any +communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane +brood. + +France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her +sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down +hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her +Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane +achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue +torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not +kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks +which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty +yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and +Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, +already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into +boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in +it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses +of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were +sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with +rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which +the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of +the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work +unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about +with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion +that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous. + +In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to +justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and +highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; +families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing +their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman +in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and +challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of +“the Captain,” gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the +mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and +then got shot dead himself by the other four, “in consequence of the +failure of his ammunition:” after which the mail was robbed in peace; +that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand +and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the +illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London +gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law +fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; +thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at +Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search +for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the +musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences +much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy +and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing +up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on +Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the +hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of +Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, +and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of +sixpence. + +All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close +upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. +Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, +those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the +fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights +with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred +and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small +creatures--the creatures of this chronicle among the rest--along the +roads that lay before them. + + + + +II. The Mail + + +It was the Dover road that lay, on a Friday night late in November, +before the first of the persons with whom this history has business. +The Dover road lay, as to him, beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered up +Shooter's Hill. He walked up hill in the mire by the side of the mail, +as the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish +for walking exercise, under the circumstances, but because the hill, +and the harness, and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy, that the +horses had three times already come to a stop, besides once drawing the +coach across the road, with the mutinous intent of taking it back +to Blackheath. Reins and whip and coachman and guard, however, in +combination, had read that article of war which forbade a purpose +otherwise strongly in favour of the argument, that some brute animals +are endued with Reason; and the team had capitulated and returned to +their duty. + +With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way through +the thick mud, floundering and stumbling between whiles, as if they were +falling to pieces at the larger joints. As often as the driver rested +them and brought them to a stand, with a wary “Wo-ho! so-ho-then!” the +near leader violently shook his head and everything upon it--like an +unusually emphatic horse, denying that the coach could be got up the +hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle, the passenger started, as a +nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind. + +There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its +forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding +none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the +air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the +waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out +everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings, +and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed +into it, as if they had made it all. + +Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by the +side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheekbones and over the +ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from +anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was +hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as from +the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers +were very shy of being confidential on a short notice, for anybody on +the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter, +when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in +“the Captain's” pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable +non-descript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard +of the Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one +thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as +he stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet, +and keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a +loaded blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, +deposited on a substratum of cutlass. + +The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspected +the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they +all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing but +the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have +taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the +journey. + +“Wo-ho!” said the coachman. “So, then! One more pull and you're at the +top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you to +it!--Joe!” + +“Halloa!” the guard replied. + +“What o'clock do you make it, Joe?” + +“Ten minutes, good, past eleven.” + +“My blood!” ejaculated the vexed coachman, “and not atop of Shooter's +yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!” + +The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative, +made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed +suit. Once more, the Dover mail struggled on, with the jack-boots of its +passengers squashing along by its side. They had stopped when the coach +stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three +had had the hardihood to propose to another to walk on a little ahead +into the mist and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of +getting shot instantly as a highwayman. + +The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses +stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for +the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in. + +“Tst! Joe!” cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from his +box. + +“What do you say, Tom?” + +They both listened. + +“I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe.” + +“_I_ say a horse at a gallop, Tom,” returned the guard, leaving his hold +of the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. “Gentlemen! In the king's +name, all of you!” + +With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood on +the offensive. + +The passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step, getting in; +the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. He +remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they remained +in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the guard, +and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman looked +back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader pricked up +his ears and looked back, without contradicting. + +The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labouring +of the coach, added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet +indeed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion to +the coach, as if it were in a state of agitation. The hearts of the +passengers beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate, the +quiet pause was audibly expressive of people out of breath, and holding +the breath, and having the pulses quickened by expectation. + +The sound of a horse at a gallop came fast and furiously up the hill. + +“So-ho!” the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. “Yo there! Stand! +I shall fire!” + +The pace was suddenly checked, and, with much splashing and floundering, +a man's voice called from the mist, “Is that the Dover mail?” + +“Never you mind what it is!” the guard retorted. “What are you?” + +“_Is_ that the Dover mail?” + +“Why do you want to know?” + +“I want a passenger, if it is.” + +“What passenger?” + +“Mr. Jarvis Lorry.” + +Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The guard, +the coachman, and the two other passengers eyed him distrustfully. + +“Keep where you are,” the guard called to the voice in the mist, +“because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right in +your lifetime. Gentleman of the name of Lorry answer straight.” + +“What is the matter?” asked the passenger, then, with mildly quavering +speech. “Who wants me? Is it Jerry?” + +(“I don't like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry,” growled the guard to +himself. “He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.”) + +“Yes, Mr. Lorry.” + +“What is the matter?” + +“A despatch sent after you from over yonder. T. and Co.” + +“I know this messenger, guard,” said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the +road--assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two +passengers, who immediately scrambled into the coach, shut the door, and +pulled up the window. “He may come close; there's nothing wrong.” + +“I hope there ain't, but I can't make so 'Nation sure of that,” said the +guard, in gruff soliloquy. “Hallo you!” + +“Well! And hallo you!” said Jerry, more hoarsely than before. + +“Come on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if you've got holsters to that +saddle o' yourn, don't let me see your hand go nigh 'em. For I'm a devil +at a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead. So +now let's look at you.” + +The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist, +and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The rider +stooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passenger +a small folded paper. The rider's horse was blown, and both horse and +rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat of +the man. + +“Guard!” said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence. + +The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised +blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye on the horseman, +answered curtly, “Sir.” + +“There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must +know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown +to drink. I may read this?” + +“If so be as you're quick, sir.” + +He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and +read--first to himself and then aloud: “'Wait at Dover for Mam'selle.' +It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED +TO LIFE.” + +Jerry started in his saddle. “That's a Blazing strange answer, too,” + said he, at his hoarsest. + +“Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as +well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night.” + +With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at +all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted +their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general +pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape +the hazard of originating any other kind of action. + +The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing round +it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunderbuss +in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and +having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt, +looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a +few smith's tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was +furnished with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown +and stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut +himself up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw, +and get a light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in +five minutes. + +“Tom!” softly over the coach roof. + +“Hallo, Joe.” + +“Did you hear the message?” + +“I did, Joe.” + +“What did you make of it, Tom?” + +“Nothing at all, Joe.” + +“That's a coincidence, too,” the guard mused, “for I made the same of it +myself.” + +Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not +only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and +shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of +holding about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his +heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within +hearing and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the +hill. + +“After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won't trust your +fore-legs till I get you on the level,” said this hoarse messenger, +glancing at his mare. “'Recalled to life.' That's a Blazing strange +message. Much of that wouldn't do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You'd +be in a Blazing bad way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, +Jerry!” + + + + +III. The Night Shadows + + +A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is +constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A +solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every +one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every +room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating +heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of +its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the +awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this. No more can I +turn the leaves of this dear book that I loved, and vainly hope in time +to read it all. No more can I look into the depths of this unfathomable +water, wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it, I have had glimpses +of buried treasure and other things submerged. It was appointed that the +book should shut with a spring, for ever and for ever, when I had read +but a page. It was appointed that the water should be locked in an +eternal frost, when the light was playing on its surface, and I stood +in ignorance on the shore. My friend is dead, my neighbour is dead, +my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it is the inexorable +consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was always in that +individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life's end. In +any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there +a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their +innermost personality, to me, or than I am to them? + +As to this, his natural and not to be alienated inheritance, the +messenger on horseback had exactly the same possessions as the King, the +first Minister of State, or the richest merchant in London. So with the +three passengers shut up in the narrow compass of one lumbering old mail +coach; they were mysteries to one another, as complete as if each had +been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with the +breadth of a county between him and the next. + +The messenger rode back at an easy trot, stopping pretty often at +ale-houses by the way to drink, but evincing a tendency to keep his +own counsel, and to keep his hat cocked over his eyes. He had eyes that +assorted very well with that decoration, being of a surface black, with +no depth in the colour or form, and much too near together--as if they +were afraid of being found out in something, singly, if they kept too +far apart. They had a sinister expression, under an old cocked-hat like +a three-cornered spittoon, and over a great muffler for the chin and +throat, which descended nearly to the wearer's knees. When he stopped +for drink, he moved this muffler with his left hand, only while he +poured his liquor in with his right; as soon as that was done, he +muffled again. + +“No, Jerry, no!” said the messenger, harping on one theme as he rode. +“It wouldn't do for you, Jerry. Jerry, you honest tradesman, it wouldn't +suit _your_ line of business! Recalled--! Bust me if I don't think he'd +been a drinking!” + +His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, several +times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown, +which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all +over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was +so like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked +wall than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might +have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over. + +While he trotted back with the message he was to deliver to the night +watchman in his box at the door of Tellson's Bank, by Temple Bar, who +was to deliver it to greater authorities within, the shadows of the +night took such shapes to him as arose out of the message, and took such +shapes to the mare as arose out of _her_ private topics of uneasiness. +They seemed to be numerous, for she shied at every shadow on the road. + +What time, the mail-coach lumbered, jolted, rattled, and bumped upon +its tedious way, with its three fellow-inscrutables inside. To whom, +likewise, the shadows of the night revealed themselves, in the forms +their dozing eyes and wandering thoughts suggested. + +Tellson's Bank had a run upon it in the mail. As the bank +passenger--with an arm drawn through the leathern strap, which did what +lay in it to keep him from pounding against the next passenger, +and driving him into his corner, whenever the coach got a special +jolt--nodded in his place, with half-shut eyes, the little +coach-windows, and the coach-lamp dimly gleaming through them, and the +bulky bundle of opposite passenger, became the bank, and did a great +stroke of business. The rattle of the harness was the chink of money, +and more drafts were honoured in five minutes than even Tellson's, with +all its foreign and home connection, ever paid in thrice the time. Then +the strong-rooms underground, at Tellson's, with such of their valuable +stores and secrets as were known to the passenger (and it was not a +little that he knew about them), opened before him, and he went in among +them with the great keys and the feebly-burning candle, and found them +safe, and strong, and sound, and still, just as he had last seen them. + +But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the coach +(in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was +always with him, there was another current of impression that never +ceased to run, all through the night. He was on his way to dig some one +out of a grave. + +Now, which of the multitude of faces that showed themselves before him +was the true face of the buried person, the shadows of the night did +not indicate; but they were all the faces of a man of five-and-forty by +years, and they differed principally in the passions they expressed, +and in the ghastliness of their worn and wasted state. Pride, contempt, +defiance, stubbornness, submission, lamentation, succeeded one another; +so did varieties of sunken cheek, cadaverous colour, emaciated hands +and figures. But the face was in the main one face, and every head was +prematurely white. A hundred times the dozing passenger inquired of this +spectre: + +“Buried how long?” + +The answer was always the same: “Almost eighteen years.” + +“You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?” + +“Long ago.” + +“You know that you are recalled to life?” + +“They tell me so.” + +“I hope you care to live?” + +“I can't say.” + +“Shall I show her to you? Will you come and see her?” + +The answers to this question were various and contradictory. Sometimes +the broken reply was, “Wait! It would kill me if I saw her too soon.” + Sometimes, it was given in a tender rain of tears, and then it was, +“Take me to her.” Sometimes it was staring and bewildered, and then it +was, “I don't know her. I don't understand.” + +After such imaginary discourse, the passenger in his fancy would dig, +and dig, dig--now with a spade, now with a great key, now with his +hands--to dig this wretched creature out. Got out at last, with earth +hanging about his face and hair, he would suddenly fan away to dust. The +passenger would then start to himself, and lower the window, to get the +reality of mist and rain on his cheek. + +Yet even when his eyes were opened on the mist and rain, on the moving +patch of light from the lamps, and the hedge at the roadside retreating +by jerks, the night shadows outside the coach would fall into the train +of the night shadows within. The real Banking-house by Temple Bar, the +real business of the past day, the real strong rooms, the real express +sent after him, and the real message returned, would all be there. Out +of the midst of them, the ghostly face would rise, and he would accost +it again. + +“Buried how long?” + +“Almost eighteen years.” + +“I hope you care to live?” + +“I can't say.” + +Dig--dig--dig--until an impatient movement from one of the two +passengers would admonish him to pull up the window, draw his arm +securely through the leathern strap, and speculate upon the two +slumbering forms, until his mind lost its hold of them, and they again +slid away into the bank and the grave. + +“Buried how long?” + +“Almost eighteen years.” + +“You had abandoned all hope of being dug out?” + +“Long ago.” + +The words were still in his hearing as just spoken--distinctly in +his hearing as ever spoken words had been in his life--when the weary +passenger started to the consciousness of daylight, and found that the +shadows of the night were gone. + +He lowered the window, and looked out at the rising sun. There was a +ridge of ploughed land, with a plough upon it where it had been left +last night when the horses were unyoked; beyond, a quiet coppice-wood, +in which many leaves of burning red and golden yellow still remained +upon the trees. Though the earth was cold and wet, the sky was clear, +and the sun rose bright, placid, and beautiful. + +“Eighteen years!” said the passenger, looking at the sun. “Gracious +Creator of day! To be buried alive for eighteen years!” + + + + +IV. The Preparation + + +When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon, +the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his +custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey +from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventurous +traveller upon. + +By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left be +congratulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective +roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp +and dirty straw, its disagreeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather +like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out +of it in chains of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and +muddy legs, was rather like a larger sort of dog. + +“There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?” + +“Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The +tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed, +sir?” + +“I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber.” + +“And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please. +Show Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off +gentleman's boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.) +Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!” + +The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by the +mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from +head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the +Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into it, +all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another +drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all +loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord +and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a +brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large +square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to +his breakfast. + +The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman +in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat, +with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, +that he might have been sitting for his portrait. + +Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a +loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat, +as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and +evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain +of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a +fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He +wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his +head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which +looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. +His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, +was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring +beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A +face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the +quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost +their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and +reserved expression of Tellson's Bank. He had a healthy colour in his +cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. +But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson's Bank were +principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps +second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on. + +Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait, +Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him, +and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it: + +“I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here at any +time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a +gentleman from Tellson's Bank. Please to let me know.” + +“Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in London, sir?” + +“Yes.” + +“Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen in +their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris, sir. A +vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company's House.” + +“Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one.” + +“Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think, +sir?” + +“Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we--since I--came last +from France.” + +“Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people's +time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir.” + +“I believe so.” + +“But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and +Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen +years ago?” + +“You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from +the truth.” + +“Indeed, sir!” + +Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from the +table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left, +dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest while +he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. According to the +immemorial usage of waiters in all ages. + +When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on +the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away +from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine +ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling +wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was +destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and +brought the coast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong +a piscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be +dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dipped in the sea. A little +fishing was done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by +night, and looking seaward: particularly at those times when the tide +made, and was near flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, +sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable +that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter. + +As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been +at intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became +again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry's thoughts seemed to cloud +too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting +his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging, +digging, digging, in the live red coals. + +A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no +harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. +Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last +glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is +ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has +got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow +street, and rumbled into the inn-yard. + +He set down his glass untouched. “This is Mam'selle!” said he. + +In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss Manette +had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gentleman from +Tellson's. + +“So soon?” + +Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required none +then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tellson's +immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience. + +The gentleman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but to empty his +glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen +wig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette's apartment. +It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black +horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and +oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room +were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if _they_ were buried, in deep +graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected +from them until they were dug out. + +The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his +way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for +the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall +candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and +the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak, +and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As +his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden +hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and +a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth +it was), of rifting and knitting itself into an expression that was +not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright +fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions--as his +eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, +of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very +Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran +high. The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of +the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital +procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were +offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the +feminine gender--and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette. + +“Pray take a seat, sir.” In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a +little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed. + +“I kiss your hand, miss,” said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earlier +date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat. + +“I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that +some intelligence--or discovery--” + +“The word is not material, miss; either word will do.” + +“--respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw--so +long dead--” + +Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the +hospital procession of negro cupids. As if _they_ had any help for +anybody in their absurd baskets! + +“--rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communicate +with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris for +the purpose.” + +“Myself.” + +“As I was prepared to hear, sir.” + +She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a +pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he +was than she. He made her another bow. + +“I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by +those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to +France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with +me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, +during the journey, under that worthy gentleman's protection. The +gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to +beg the favour of his waiting for me here.” + +“I was happy,” said Mr. Lorry, “to be entrusted with the charge. I shall +be more happy to execute it.” + +“Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me +by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the +business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising +nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a +strong and eager interest to know what they are.” + +“Naturally,” said Mr. Lorry. “Yes--I--” + +After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the +ears, “It is very difficult to begin.” + +He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young +forehead lifted itself into that singular expression--but it was pretty +and characteristic, besides being singular--and she raised her hand, +as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing +shadow. + +“Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?” + +“Am I not?” Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwards with +an argumentative smile. + +Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of +which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression +deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which +she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and the +moment she raised her eyes again, went on: + +“In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address you +as a young English lady, Miss Manette?” + +“If you please, sir.” + +“Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to +acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don't heed me any more than +if I was a speaking machine--truly, I am not much else. I will, with +your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers.” + +“Story!” + +He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he added, +in a hurry, “Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually call +our connection our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientific +gentleman; a man of great acquirements--a Doctor.” + +“Not of Beauvais?” + +“Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the +gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the +gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there. +Our relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that +time in our French House, and had been--oh! twenty years.” + +“At that time--I may ask, at what time, sir?” + +“I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married--an English lady--and +I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many other +French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson's hands. +In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other for +scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss; +there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like +sentiment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my +business life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in +the course of my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere +machine. To go on--” + +“But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think”--the +curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him--“that when I was +left an orphan through my mother's surviving my father only two years, +it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you.” + +Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced +to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then +conducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding +the chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns to rub +his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking +down into her face while she sat looking up into his. + +“Miss Manette, it _was_ I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself +just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold +with my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect +that I have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of +Tellson's House since, and I have been busy with the other business of +Tellson's House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance +of them. I pass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary +Mangle.” + +After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr. Lorry +flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which was most +unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining surface was +before), and resumed his former attitude. + +“So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your +regretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died +when he did--Don't be frightened! How you start!” + +She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands. + +“Pray,” said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from +the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped +him in so violent a tremble: “pray control your agitation--a matter of +business. As I was saying--” + +Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew: + +“As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had suddenly +and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not +been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could +trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a +privilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid +to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the +privilege of filling up blank forms for the consignment of any one +to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had +implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of +him, and all quite in vain;--then the history of your father would have +been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais.” + +“I entreat you to tell me more, sir.” + +“I will. I am going to. You can bear it?” + +“I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this +moment.” + +“You speak collectedly, and you--_are_ collected. That's good!” (Though +his manner was less satisfied than his words.) “A matter of business. +Regard it as a matter of business--business that must be done. Now +if this doctor's wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit, +had suffered so intensely from this cause before her little child was +born--” + +“The little child was a daughter, sir.” + +“A daughter. A-a-matter of business--don't be distressed. Miss, if the +poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born, +that she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the +inheritance of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by +rearing her in the belief that her father was dead--No, don't kneel! In +Heaven's name why should you kneel to me!” + +“For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!” + +“A--a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact +business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly +mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many +shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so +much more at my ease about your state of mind.” + +Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had +very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp +his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she +communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry. + +“That's right, that's right. Courage! Business! You have business before +you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with +you. And when she died--I believe broken-hearted--having never slackened +her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, +to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud +upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his +heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.” + +As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the +flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have +been already tinged with grey. + +“You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what +they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new +discovery, of money, or of any other property; but--” + +He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the +forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was +now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror. + +“But he has been--been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too +probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. +Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant +in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to +restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.” + +A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a +low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream, + +“I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost--not him!” + +Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. “There, there, +there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. +You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair +sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.” + +She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, “I have been free, I +have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!” + +“Only one thing more,” said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a +wholesome means of enforcing her attention: “he has been found under +another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be +worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to +know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly +held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, +because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, +anywhere or in any way, and to remove him--for a while at all +events--out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even +Tellson's, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of +the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring +to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, +and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, 'Recalled to Life;' +which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn't notice a +word! Miss Manette!” + +Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she +sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed +upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or +branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he +feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called +out loudly for assistance without moving. + +A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to +be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some +extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most +wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too, +or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the +inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the +poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him +flying back against the nearest wall. + +(“I really think this must be a man!” was Mr. Lorry's breathless +reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.) + +“Why, look at you all!” bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants. +“Why don't you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring +at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don't you go and fetch +things? I'll let you know, if you don't bring smelling-salts, cold +water, and vinegar, quick, I will.” + +There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she +softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and +gentleness: calling her “my precious!” and “my bird!” and spreading her +golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care. + +“And you in brown!” she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry; +“couldn't you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her +to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do +you call _that_ being a Banker?” + +Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to +answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler +sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn +servants under the mysterious penalty of “letting them know” something +not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a +regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head +upon her shoulder. + +“I hope she will do well now,” said Mr. Lorry. + +“No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!” + +“I hope,” said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and +humility, “that you accompany Miss Manette to France?” + +“A likely thing, too!” replied the strong woman. “If it was ever +intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence +would have cast my lot in an island?” + +This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to +consider it. + + + + +V. The Wine-shop + + +A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street. The +accident had happened in getting it out of a cart; the cask had tumbled +out with a run, the hoops had burst, and it lay on the stones just +outside the door of the wine-shop, shattered like a walnut-shell. + +All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their +idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough, irregular +stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have +thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them, +had dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own +jostling group or crowd, according to its size. Some men kneeled down, +made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped, or tried to help +women, who bent over their shoulders, to sip, before the wine had all +run out between their fingers. Others, men and women, dipped in +the puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with +handkerchiefs from women's heads, which were squeezed dry into infants' +mouths; others made small mud-embankments, to stem the wine as it ran; +others, directed by lookers-on up at high windows, darted here and +there, to cut off little streams of wine that started away in new +directions; others devoted themselves to the sodden and lee-dyed +pieces of the cask, licking, and even champing the moister wine-rotted +fragments with eager relish. There was no drainage to carry off the +wine, and not only did it all get taken up, but so much mud got taken up +along with it, that there might have been a scavenger in the street, +if anybody acquainted with it could have believed in such a miraculous +presence. + +A shrill sound of laughter and of amused voices--voices of men, women, +and children--resounded in the street while this wine game lasted. There +was little roughness in the sport, and much playfulness. There was a +special companionship in it, an observable inclination on the part +of every one to join some other one, which led, especially among the +luckier or lighter-hearted, to frolicsome embraces, drinking of healths, +shaking of hands, and even joining of hands and dancing, a dozen +together. When the wine was gone, and the places where it had been +most abundant were raked into a gridiron-pattern by fingers, these +demonstrations ceased, as suddenly as they had broken out. The man who +had left his saw sticking in the firewood he was cutting, set it in +motion again; the women who had left on a door-step the little pot of +hot ashes, at which she had been trying to soften the pain in her own +starved fingers and toes, or in those of her child, returned to it; men +with bare arms, matted locks, and cadaverous faces, who had emerged into +the winter light from cellars, moved away, to descend again; and a gloom +gathered on the scene that appeared more natural to it than sunshine. + +The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow street +in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had +stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many +wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks +on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was +stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again. +Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a +tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his +head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled +upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees--BLOOD. + +The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the +street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there. + +And now that the cloud settled on Saint Antoine, which a momentary +gleam had driven from his sacred countenance, the darkness of it was +heavy--cold, dirt, sickness, ignorance, and want, were the lords in +waiting on the saintly presence--nobles of great power all of them; +but, most especially the last. Samples of a people that had undergone a +terrible grinding and regrinding in the mill, and certainly not in the +fabulous mill which ground old people young, shivered at every corner, +passed in and out at every doorway, looked from every window, fluttered +in every vestige of a garment that the wind shook. The mill which +had worked them down, was the mill that grinds young people old; the +children had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon the +grown faces, and ploughed into every furrow of age and coming up afresh, +was the sigh, Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed out +of the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and +lines; Hunger was patched into them with straw and rag and wood and +paper; Hunger was repeated in every fragment of the small modicum of +firewood that the man sawed off; Hunger stared down from the smokeless +chimneys, and started up from the filthy street that had no offal, +among its refuse, of anything to eat. Hunger was the inscription on the +baker's shelves, written in every small loaf of his scanty stock of +bad bread; at the sausage-shop, in every dead-dog preparation that +was offered for sale. Hunger rattled its dry bones among the roasting +chestnuts in the turned cylinder; Hunger was shred into atomics in every +farthing porringer of husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant +drops of oil. + +Its abiding place was in all things fitted to it. A narrow winding +street, full of offence and stench, with other narrow winding streets +diverging, all peopled by rags and nightcaps, and all smelling of rags +and nightcaps, and all visible things with a brooding look upon them +that looked ill. In the hunted air of the people there was yet some +wild-beast thought of the possibility of turning at bay. Depressed and +slinking though they were, eyes of fire were not wanting among them; nor +compressed lips, white with what they suppressed; nor foreheads knitted +into the likeness of the gallows-rope they mused about enduring, or +inflicting. The trade signs (and they were almost as many as the shops) +were, all, grim illustrations of Want. The butcher and the porkman +painted up, only the leanest scrags of meat; the baker, the coarsest of +meagre loaves. The people rudely pictured as drinking in the wine-shops, +croaked over their scanty measures of thin wine and beer, and were +gloweringly confidential together. Nothing was represented in a +flourishing condition, save tools and weapons; but, the cutler's knives +and axes were sharp and bright, the smith's hammers were heavy, and the +gunmaker's stock was murderous. The crippling stones of the pavement, +with their many little reservoirs of mud and water, had no footways, but +broke off abruptly at the doors. The kennel, to make amends, ran down +the middle of the street--when it ran at all: which was only after heavy +rains, and then it ran, by many eccentric fits, into the houses. Across +the streets, at wide intervals, one clumsy lamp was slung by a rope and +pulley; at night, when the lamplighter had let these down, and lighted, +and hoisted them again, a feeble grove of dim wicks swung in a sickly +manner overhead, as if they were at sea. Indeed they were at sea, and +the ship and crew were in peril of tempest. + +For, the time was to come, when the gaunt scarecrows of that region +should have watched the lamplighter, in their idleness and hunger, so +long, as to conceive the idea of improving on his method, and hauling +up men by those ropes and pulleys, to flare upon the darkness of their +condition. But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew over +France shook the rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of +song and feather, took no warning. + +The wine-shop was a corner shop, better than most others in its +appearance and degree, and the master of the wine-shop had stood outside +it, in a yellow waistcoat and green breeches, looking on at the struggle +for the lost wine. “It's not my affair,” said he, with a final shrug +of the shoulders. “The people from the market did it. Let them bring +another.” + +There, his eyes happening to catch the tall joker writing up his joke, +he called to him across the way: + +“Say, then, my Gaspard, what do you do there?” + +The fellow pointed to his joke with immense significance, as is often +the way with his tribe. It missed its mark, and completely failed, as is +often the way with his tribe too. + +“What now? Are you a subject for the mad hospital?” said the wine-shop +keeper, crossing the road, and obliterating the jest with a handful of +mud, picked up for the purpose, and smeared over it. “Why do you write +in the public streets? Is there--tell me thou--is there no other place +to write such words in?” + +In his expostulation he dropped his cleaner hand (perhaps accidentally, +perhaps not) upon the joker's heart. The joker rapped it with his +own, took a nimble spring upward, and came down in a fantastic dancing +attitude, with one of his stained shoes jerked off his foot into his +hand, and held out. A joker of an extremely, not to say wolfishly +practical character, he looked, under those circumstances. + +“Put it on, put it on,” said the other. “Call wine, wine; and finish +there.” With that advice, he wiped his soiled hand upon the joker's +dress, such as it was--quite deliberately, as having dirtied the hand on +his account; and then recrossed the road and entered the wine-shop. + +This wine-shop keeper was a bull-necked, martial-looking man of thirty, +and he should have been of a hot temperament, for, although it was a +bitter day, he wore no coat, but carried one slung over his shoulder. +His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, too, and his brown arms were bare to +the elbows. Neither did he wear anything more on his head than his own +crisply-curling short dark hair. He was a dark man altogether, with good +eyes and a good bold breadth between them. Good-humoured looking on +the whole, but implacable-looking, too; evidently a man of a strong +resolution and a set purpose; a man not desirable to be met, rushing +down a narrow pass with a gulf on either side, for nothing would turn +the man. + +Madame Defarge, his wife, sat in the shop behind the counter as he +came in. Madame Defarge was a stout woman of about his own age, with +a watchful eye that seldom seemed to look at anything, a large hand +heavily ringed, a steady face, strong features, and great composure of +manner. There was a character about Madame Defarge, from which one might +have predicated that she did not often make mistakes against herself +in any of the reckonings over which she presided. Madame Defarge being +sensitive to cold, was wrapped in fur, and had a quantity of bright +shawl twined about her head, though not to the concealment of her large +earrings. Her knitting was before her, but she had laid it down to pick +her teeth with a toothpick. Thus engaged, with her right elbow supported +by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came in, but +coughed just one grain of cough. This, in combination with the lifting +of her darkly defined eyebrows over her toothpick by the breadth of a +line, suggested to her husband that he would do well to look round the +shop among the customers, for any new customer who had dropped in while +he stepped over the way. + +The wine-shop keeper accordingly rolled his eyes about, until they +rested upon an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who were seated in +a corner. Other company were there: two playing cards, two playing +dominoes, three standing by the counter lengthening out a short supply +of wine. As he passed behind the counter, he took notice that the +elderly gentleman said in a look to the young lady, “This is our man.” + +“What the devil do _you_ do in that galley there?” said Monsieur Defarge +to himself; “I don't know you.” + +But, he feigned not to notice the two strangers, and fell into discourse +with the triumvirate of customers who were drinking at the counter. + +“How goes it, Jacques?” said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge. “Is +all the spilt wine swallowed?” + +“Every drop, Jacques,” answered Monsieur Defarge. + +When this interchange of Christian name was effected, Madame Defarge, +picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another grain of cough, +and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line. + +“It is not often,” said the second of the three, addressing Monsieur +Defarge, “that many of these miserable beasts know the taste of wine, or +of anything but black bread and death. Is it not so, Jacques?” + +“It is so, Jacques,” Monsieur Defarge returned. + +At this second interchange of the Christian name, Madame Defarge, still +using her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of +cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line. + +The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty +drinking vessel and smacked his lips. + +“Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle +always have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am I +right, Jacques?” + +“You are right, Jacques,” was the response of Monsieur Defarge. + +This third interchange of the Christian name was completed at the moment +when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her eyebrows up, and +slightly rustled in her seat. + +“Hold then! True!” muttered her husband. “Gentlemen--my wife!” + +The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge, with three +flourishes. She acknowledged their homage by bending her head, and +giving them a quick look. Then she glanced in a casual manner round the +wine-shop, took up her knitting with great apparent calmness and repose +of spirit, and became absorbed in it. + +“Gentlemen,” said her husband, who had kept his bright eye observantly +upon her, “good day. The chamber, furnished bachelor-fashion, that you +wished to see, and were inquiring for when I stepped out, is on the +fifth floor. The doorway of the staircase gives on the little courtyard +close to the left here,” pointing with his hand, “near to the window of +my establishment. But, now that I remember, one of you has already been +there, and can show the way. Gentlemen, adieu!” + +They paid for their wine, and left the place. The eyes of Monsieur +Defarge were studying his wife at her knitting when the elderly +gentleman advanced from his corner, and begged the favour of a word. + +“Willingly, sir,” said Monsieur Defarge, and quietly stepped with him to +the door. + +Their conference was very short, but very decided. Almost at the first +word, Monsieur Defarge started and became deeply attentive. It had +not lasted a minute, when he nodded and went out. The gentleman then +beckoned to the young lady, and they, too, went out. Madame Defarge +knitted with nimble fingers and steady eyebrows, and saw nothing. + +Mr. Jarvis Lorry and Miss Manette, emerging from the wine-shop thus, +joined Monsieur Defarge in the doorway to which he had directed his own +company just before. It opened from a stinking little black courtyard, +and was the general public entrance to a great pile of houses, inhabited +by a great number of people. In the gloomy tile-paved entry to the +gloomy tile-paved staircase, Monsieur Defarge bent down on one knee +to the child of his old master, and put her hand to his lips. It was +a gentle action, but not at all gently done; a very remarkable +transformation had come over him in a few seconds. He had no good-humour +in his face, nor any openness of aspect left, but had become a secret, +angry, dangerous man. + +“It is very high; it is a little difficult. Better to begin slowly.” + Thus, Monsieur Defarge, in a stern voice, to Mr. Lorry, as they began +ascending the stairs. + +“Is he alone?” the latter whispered. + +“Alone! God help him, who should be with him!” said the other, in the +same low voice. + +“Is he always alone, then?” + +“Yes.” + +“Of his own desire?” + +“Of his own necessity. As he was, when I first saw him after they +found me and demanded to know if I would take him, and, at my peril be +discreet--as he was then, so he is now.” + +“He is greatly changed?” + +“Changed!” + +The keeper of the wine-shop stopped to strike the wall with his hand, +and mutter a tremendous curse. No direct answer could have been half so +forcible. Mr. Lorry's spirits grew heavier and heavier, as he and his +two companions ascended higher and higher. + +Such a staircase, with its accessories, in the older and more crowded +parts of Paris, would be bad enough now; but, at that time, it was vile +indeed to unaccustomed and unhardened senses. Every little habitation +within the great foul nest of one high building--that is to say, +the room or rooms within every door that opened on the general +staircase--left its own heap of refuse on its own landing, besides +flinging other refuse from its own windows. The uncontrollable and +hopeless mass of decomposition so engendered, would have polluted +the air, even if poverty and deprivation had not loaded it with their +intangible impurities; the two bad sources combined made it almost +insupportable. Through such an atmosphere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt +and poison, the way lay. Yielding to his own disturbance of mind, and to +his young companion's agitation, which became greater every instant, Mr. +Jarvis Lorry twice stopped to rest. Each of these stoppages was made +at a doleful grating, by which any languishing good airs that were left +uncorrupted, seemed to escape, and all spoilt and sickly vapours seemed +to crawl in. Through the rusted bars, tastes, rather than glimpses, were +caught of the jumbled neighbourhood; and nothing within range, nearer +or lower than the summits of the two great towers of Notre-Dame, had any +promise on it of healthy life or wholesome aspirations. + +At last, the top of the staircase was gained, and they stopped for the +third time. There was yet an upper staircase, of a steeper inclination +and of contracted dimensions, to be ascended, before the garret story +was reached. The keeper of the wine-shop, always going a little in +advance, and always going on the side which Mr. Lorry took, as though he +dreaded to be asked any question by the young lady, turned himself about +here, and, carefully feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried over +his shoulder, took out a key. + +“The door is locked then, my friend?” said Mr. Lorry, surprised. + +“Ay. Yes,” was the grim reply of Monsieur Defarge. + +“You think it necessary to keep the unfortunate gentleman so retired?” + +“I think it necessary to turn the key.” Monsieur Defarge whispered it +closer in his ear, and frowned heavily. + +“Why?” + +“Why! Because he has lived so long, locked up, that he would be +frightened--rave--tear himself to pieces--die--come to I know not what +harm--if his door was left open.” + +“Is it possible!” exclaimed Mr. Lorry. + +“Is it possible!” repeated Defarge, bitterly. “Yes. And a beautiful +world we live in, when it _is_ possible, and when many other such things +are possible, and not only possible, but done--done, see you!--under +that sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on.” + +This dialogue had been held in so very low a whisper, that not a word +of it had reached the young lady's ears. But, by this time she trembled +under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety, +and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbent +on him to speak a word or two of reassurance. + +“Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst will be over in a +moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then, +all the good you bring to him, all the relief, all the happiness you +bring to him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side. +That's well, friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!” + +They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they were +soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at +once in sight of three men, whose heads were bent down close together at +the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to which +the door belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On hearing +footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose, and showed +themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking in the +wine-shop. + +“I forgot them in the surprise of your visit,” explained Monsieur +Defarge. “Leave us, good boys; we have business here.” + +The three glided by, and went silently down. + +There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of +the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone, Mr. +Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger: + +“Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?” + +“I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few.” + +“Is that well?” + +“_I_ think it is well.” + +“Who are the few? How do you choose them?” + +“I choose them as real men, of my name--Jacques is my name--to whom the +sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is another +thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment.” + +With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in +through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he struck +twice or thrice upon the door--evidently with no other object than to +make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it, +three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned +it as heavily as he could. + +The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into the +room and said something. A faint voice answered something. Little more +than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side. + +He looked back over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr. Lorry +got his arm securely round the daughter's waist, and held her; for he +felt that she was sinking. + +“A-a-a-business, business!” he urged, with a moisture that was not of +business shining on his cheek. “Come in, come in!” + +“I am afraid of it,” she answered, shuddering. + +“Of it? What?” + +“I mean of him. Of my father.” + +Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of +their conductor, he drew over his neck the arm that shook upon his +shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her +down just within the door, and held her, clinging to him. + +Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside, +took out the key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did, +methodically, and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise as he +could make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to +where the window was. He stopped there, and faced round. + +The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim +and dark: for, the window of dormer shape, was in truth a door in the +roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from +the street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any +other door of French construction. To exclude the cold, one half of this +door was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way. +Such a scanty portion of light was admitted through these means, that it +was difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit +alone could have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work +requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being +done in the garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face +towards the window where the keeper of the wine-shop stood looking at +him, a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very +busy, making shoes. + + + + +VI. The Shoemaker + + +“Good day!” said Monsieur Defarge, looking down at the white head that +bent low over the shoemaking. + +It was raised for a moment, and a very faint voice responded to the +salutation, as if it were at a distance: + +“Good day!” + +“You are still hard at work, I see?” + +After a long silence, the head was lifted for another moment, and the +voice replied, “Yes--I am working.” This time, a pair of haggard eyes +had looked at the questioner, before the face had dropped again. + +The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the +faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no +doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was +the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo +of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and +resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once +beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and +suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive +it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, +wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered +home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die. + +Some minutes of silent work had passed: and the haggard eyes had looked +up again: not with any interest or curiosity, but with a dull mechanical +perception, beforehand, that the spot where the only visitor they were +aware of had stood, was not yet empty. + +“I want,” said Defarge, who had not removed his gaze from the shoemaker, +“to let in a little more light here. You can bear a little more?” + +The shoemaker stopped his work; looked with a vacant air of listening, +at the floor on one side of him; then similarly, at the floor on the +other side of him; then, upward at the speaker. + +“What did you say?” + +“You can bear a little more light?” + +“I must bear it, if you let it in.” (Laying the palest shadow of a +stress upon the second word.) + +The opened half-door was opened a little further, and secured at that +angle for the time. A broad ray of light fell into the garret, and +showed the workman with an unfinished shoe upon his lap, pausing in his +labour. His few common tools and various scraps of leather were at his +feet and on his bench. He had a white beard, raggedly cut, but not very +long, a hollow face, and exceedingly bright eyes. The hollowness and +thinness of his face would have caused them to look large, under his yet +dark eyebrows and his confused white hair, though they had been really +otherwise; but, they were naturally large, and looked unnaturally so. +His yellow rags of shirt lay open at the throat, and showed his body +to be withered and worn. He, and his old canvas frock, and his loose +stockings, and all his poor tatters of clothes, had, in a long seclusion +from direct light and air, faded down to such a dull uniformity of +parchment-yellow, that it would have been hard to say which was which. + +He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very bones +of it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze, +pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, without +first looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he had +lost the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, without +first wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak. + +“Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” asked Defarge, +motioning to Mr. Lorry to come forward. + +“What did you say?” + +“Do you mean to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” + +“I can't say that I mean to. I suppose so. I don't know.” + +But, the question reminded him of his work, and he bent over it again. + +Mr. Lorry came silently forward, leaving the daughter by the door. When +he had stood, for a minute or two, by the side of Defarge, the shoemaker +looked up. He showed no surprise at seeing another figure, but the +unsteady fingers of one of his hands strayed to his lips as he looked at +it (his lips and his nails were of the same pale lead-colour), and then +the hand dropped to his work, and he once more bent over the shoe. The +look and the action had occupied but an instant. + +“You have a visitor, you see,” said Monsieur Defarge. + +“What did you say?” + +“Here is a visitor.” + +The shoemaker looked up as before, but without removing a hand from his +work. + +“Come!” said Defarge. “Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made shoe when +he sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it, monsieur.” + +Mr. Lorry took it in his hand. + +“Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker's name.” + +There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied: + +“I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?” + +“I said, couldn't you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur's +information?” + +“It is a lady's shoe. It is a young lady's walking-shoe. It is in the +present mode. I never saw the mode. I have had a pattern in my hand.” He +glanced at the shoe with some little passing touch of pride. + +“And the maker's name?” said Defarge. + +Now that he had no work to hold, he laid the knuckles of the right hand +in the hollow of the left, and then the knuckles of the left hand in the +hollow of the right, and then passed a hand across his bearded chin, and +so on in regular changes, without a moment's intermission. The task of +recalling him from the vagrancy into which he always sank when he +had spoken, was like recalling some very weak person from a swoon, or +endeavouring, in the hope of some disclosure, to stay the spirit of a +fast-dying man. + +“Did you ask me for my name?” + +“Assuredly I did.” + +“One Hundred and Five, North Tower.” + +“Is that all?” + +“One Hundred and Five, North Tower.” + +With a weary sound that was not a sigh, nor a groan, he bent to work +again, until the silence was again broken. + +“You are not a shoemaker by trade?” said Mr. Lorry, looking steadfastly +at him. + +His haggard eyes turned to Defarge as if he would have transferred the +question to him: but as no help came from that quarter, they turned back +on the questioner when they had sought the ground. + +“I am not a shoemaker by trade? No, I was not a shoemaker by trade. I-I +learnt it here. I taught myself. I asked leave to--” + +He lapsed away, even for minutes, ringing those measured changes on his +hands the whole time. His eyes came slowly back, at last, to the face +from which they had wandered; when they rested on it, he started, and +resumed, in the manner of a sleeper that moment awake, reverting to a +subject of last night. + +“I asked leave to teach myself, and I got it with much difficulty after +a long while, and I have made shoes ever since.” + +As he held out his hand for the shoe that had been taken from him, Mr. +Lorry said, still looking steadfastly in his face: + +“Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?” + +The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the +questioner. + +“Monsieur Manette”; Mr. Lorry laid his hand upon Defarge's arm; “do you +remember nothing of this man? Look at him. Look at me. Is there no old +banker, no old business, no old servant, no old time, rising in your +mind, Monsieur Manette?” + +As the captive of many years sat looking fixedly, by turns, at Mr. +Lorry and at Defarge, some long obliterated marks of an actively intent +intelligence in the middle of the forehead, gradually forced themselves +through the black mist that had fallen on him. They were overclouded +again, they were fainter, they were gone; but they had been there. And +so exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who +had crept along the wall to a point where she could see him, and where +she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only +raised in frightened compassion, if not even to keep him off and +shut out the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him, +trembling with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young +breast, and love it back to life and hope--so exactly was the expression +repeated (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it +looked as though it had passed like a moving light, from him to her. + +Darkness had fallen on him in its place. He looked at the two, less and +less attentively, and his eyes in gloomy abstraction sought the ground +and looked about him in the old way. Finally, with a deep long sigh, he +took the shoe up, and resumed his work. + +“Have you recognised him, monsieur?” asked Defarge in a whisper. + +“Yes; for a moment. At first I thought it quite hopeless, but I have +unquestionably seen, for a single moment, the face that I once knew so +well. Hush! Let us draw further back. Hush!” + +She had moved from the wall of the garret, very near to the bench on +which he sat. There was something awful in his unconsciousness of the +figure that could have put out its hand and touched him as he stooped +over his labour. + +Not a word was spoken, not a sound was made. She stood, like a spirit, +beside him, and he bent over his work. + +It happened, at length, that he had occasion to change the instrument +in his hand, for his shoemaker's knife. It lay on that side of him +which was not the side on which she stood. He had taken it up, and was +stooping to work again, when his eyes caught the skirt of her dress. He +raised them, and saw her face. The two spectators started forward, +but she stayed them with a motion of her hand. She had no fear of his +striking at her with the knife, though they had. + +He stared at her with a fearful look, and after a while his lips began +to form some words, though no sound proceeded from them. By degrees, in +the pauses of his quick and laboured breathing, he was heard to say: + +“What is this?” + +With the tears streaming down her face, she put her two hands to her +lips, and kissed them to him; then clasped them on her breast, as if she +laid his ruined head there. + +“You are not the gaoler's daughter?” + +She sighed “No.” + +“Who are you?” + +Not yet trusting the tones of her voice, she sat down on the bench +beside him. He recoiled, but she laid her hand upon his arm. A strange +thrill struck him when she did so, and visibly passed over his frame; he +laid the knife down softly, as he sat staring at her. + +Her golden hair, which she wore in long curls, had been hurriedly pushed +aside, and fell down over her neck. Advancing his hand by little and +little, he took it up and looked at it. In the midst of the action +he went astray, and, with another deep sigh, fell to work at his +shoemaking. + +But not for long. Releasing his arm, she laid her hand upon his +shoulder. After looking doubtfully at it, two or three times, as if to +be sure that it was really there, he laid down his work, put his hand +to his neck, and took off a blackened string with a scrap of folded rag +attached to it. He opened this, carefully, on his knee, and it contained +a very little quantity of hair: not more than one or two long golden +hairs, which he had, in some old day, wound off upon his finger. + +He took her hair into his hand again, and looked closely at it. “It is +the same. How can it be! When was it! How was it!” + +As the concentrated expression returned to his forehead, he seemed to +become conscious that it was in hers too. He turned her full to the +light, and looked at her. + +“She had laid her head upon my shoulder, that night when I was summoned +out--she had a fear of my going, though I had none--and when I was +brought to the North Tower they found these upon my sleeve. 'You will +leave me them? They can never help me to escape in the body, though they +may in the spirit.' Those were the words I said. I remember them very +well.” + +He formed this speech with his lips many times before he could utter it. +But when he did find spoken words for it, they came to him coherently, +though slowly. + +“How was this?--_Was it you_?” + +Once more, the two spectators started, as he turned upon her with a +frightful suddenness. But she sat perfectly still in his grasp, and only +said, in a low voice, “I entreat you, good gentlemen, do not come near +us, do not speak, do not move!” + +“Hark!” he exclaimed. “Whose voice was that?” + +His hands released her as he uttered this cry, and went up to his white +hair, which they tore in a frenzy. It died out, as everything but his +shoemaking did die out of him, and he refolded his little packet and +tried to secure it in his breast; but he still looked at her, and +gloomily shook his head. + +“No, no, no; you are too young, too blooming. It can't be. See what the +prisoner is. These are not the hands she knew, this is not the face +she knew, this is not a voice she ever heard. No, no. She was--and He +was--before the slow years of the North Tower--ages ago. What is your +name, my gentle angel?” + +Hailing his softened tone and manner, his daughter fell upon her knees +before him, with her appealing hands upon his breast. + +“O, sir, at another time you shall know my name, and who my mother was, +and who my father, and how I never knew their hard, hard history. But I +cannot tell you at this time, and I cannot tell you here. All that I may +tell you, here and now, is, that I pray to you to touch me and to bless +me. Kiss me, kiss me! O my dear, my dear!” + +His cold white head mingled with her radiant hair, which warmed and +lighted it as though it were the light of Freedom shining on him. + +“If you hear in my voice--I don't know that it is so, but I hope it +is--if you hear in my voice any resemblance to a voice that once was +sweet music in your ears, weep for it, weep for it! If you touch, in +touching my hair, anything that recalls a beloved head that lay on your +breast when you were young and free, weep for it, weep for it! If, when +I hint to you of a Home that is before us, where I will be true to you +with all my duty and with all my faithful service, I bring back the +remembrance of a Home long desolate, while your poor heart pined away, +weep for it, weep for it!” + +She held him closer round the neck, and rocked him on her breast like a +child. + +“If, when I tell you, dearest dear, that your agony is over, and that I +have come here to take you from it, and that we go to England to be at +peace and at rest, I cause you to think of your useful life laid waste, +and of our native France so wicked to you, weep for it, weep for it! And +if, when I shall tell you of my name, and of my father who is living, +and of my mother who is dead, you learn that I have to kneel to my +honoured father, and implore his pardon for having never for his sake +striven all day and lain awake and wept all night, because the love of +my poor mother hid his torture from me, weep for it, weep for it! Weep +for her, then, and for me! Good gentlemen, thank God! I feel his sacred +tears upon my face, and his sobs strike against my heart. O, see! Thank +God for us, thank God!” + +He had sunk in her arms, and his face dropped on her breast: a sight so +touching, yet so terrible in the tremendous wrong and suffering which +had gone before it, that the two beholders covered their faces. + +When the quiet of the garret had been long undisturbed, and his heaving +breast and shaken form had long yielded to the calm that must follow all +storms--emblem to humanity, of the rest and silence into which the storm +called Life must hush at last--they came forward to raise the father and +daughter from the ground. He had gradually dropped to the floor, and lay +there in a lethargy, worn out. She had nestled down with him, that his +head might lie upon her arm; and her hair drooping over him curtained +him from the light. + +“If, without disturbing him,” she said, raising her hand to Mr. Lorry as +he stooped over them, after repeated blowings of his nose, “all could be +arranged for our leaving Paris at once, so that, from the very door, he +could be taken away--” + +“But, consider. Is he fit for the journey?” asked Mr. Lorry. + +“More fit for that, I think, than to remain in this city, so dreadful to +him.” + +“It is true,” said Defarge, who was kneeling to look on and hear. “More +than that; Monsieur Manette is, for all reasons, best out of France. +Say, shall I hire a carriage and post-horses?” + +“That's business,” said Mr. Lorry, resuming on the shortest notice his +methodical manners; “and if business is to be done, I had better do it.” + +“Then be so kind,” urged Miss Manette, “as to leave us here. You see how +composed he has become, and you cannot be afraid to leave him with me +now. Why should you be? If you will lock the door to secure us from +interruption, I do not doubt that you will find him, when you come back, +as quiet as you leave him. In any case, I will take care of him until +you return, and then we will remove him straight.” + +Both Mr. Lorry and Defarge were rather disinclined to this course, and +in favour of one of them remaining. But, as there were not only carriage +and horses to be seen to, but travelling papers; and as time pressed, +for the day was drawing to an end, it came at last to their hastily +dividing the business that was necessary to be done, and hurrying away +to do it. + +Then, as the darkness closed in, the daughter laid her head down on the +hard ground close at the father's side, and watched him. The darkness +deepened and deepened, and they both lay quiet, until a light gleamed +through the chinks in the wall. + +Mr. Lorry and Monsieur Defarge had made all ready for the journey, and +had brought with them, besides travelling cloaks and wrappers, bread and +meat, wine, and hot coffee. Monsieur Defarge put this provender, and the +lamp he carried, on the shoemaker's bench (there was nothing else in the +garret but a pallet bed), and he and Mr. Lorry roused the captive, and +assisted him to his feet. + +No human intelligence could have read the mysteries of his mind, in +the scared blank wonder of his face. Whether he knew what had happened, +whether he recollected what they had said to him, whether he knew that +he was free, were questions which no sagacity could have solved. They +tried speaking to him; but, he was so confused, and so very slow to +answer, that they took fright at his bewilderment, and agreed for +the time to tamper with him no more. He had a wild, lost manner of +occasionally clasping his head in his hands, that had not been seen +in him before; yet, he had some pleasure in the mere sound of his +daughter's voice, and invariably turned to it when she spoke. + +In the submissive way of one long accustomed to obey under coercion, he +ate and drank what they gave him to eat and drink, and put on the cloak +and other wrappings, that they gave him to wear. He readily responded to +his daughter's drawing her arm through his, and took--and kept--her hand +in both his own. + +They began to descend; Monsieur Defarge going first with the lamp, Mr. +Lorry closing the little procession. They had not traversed many steps +of the long main staircase when he stopped, and stared at the roof and +round at the walls. + +“You remember the place, my father? You remember coming up here?” + +“What did you say?” + +But, before she could repeat the question, he murmured an answer as if +she had repeated it. + +“Remember? No, I don't remember. It was so very long ago.” + +That he had no recollection whatever of his having been brought from his +prison to that house, was apparent to them. They heard him mutter, +“One Hundred and Five, North Tower;” and when he looked about him, it +evidently was for the strong fortress-walls which had long encompassed +him. On their reaching the courtyard he instinctively altered his +tread, as being in expectation of a drawbridge; and when there was +no drawbridge, and he saw the carriage waiting in the open street, he +dropped his daughter's hand and clasped his head again. + +No crowd was about the door; no people were discernible at any of the +many windows; not even a chance passerby was in the street. An unnatural +silence and desertion reigned there. Only one soul was to be seen, and +that was Madame Defarge--who leaned against the door-post, knitting, and +saw nothing. + +The prisoner had got into a coach, and his daughter had followed +him, when Mr. Lorry's feet were arrested on the step by his asking, +miserably, for his shoemaking tools and the unfinished shoes. Madame +Defarge immediately called to her husband that she would get them, and +went, knitting, out of the lamplight, through the courtyard. She quickly +brought them down and handed them in;--and immediately afterwards leaned +against the door-post, knitting, and saw nothing. + +Defarge got upon the box, and gave the word “To the Barrier!” The +postilion cracked his whip, and they clattered away under the feeble +over-swinging lamps. + +Under the over-swinging lamps--swinging ever brighter in the better +streets, and ever dimmer in the worse--and by lighted shops, gay crowds, +illuminated coffee-houses, and theatre-doors, to one of the city +gates. Soldiers with lanterns, at the guard-house there. “Your papers, +travellers!” “See here then, Monsieur the Officer,” said Defarge, +getting down, and taking him gravely apart, “these are the papers of +monsieur inside, with the white head. They were consigned to me, with +him, at the--” He dropped his voice, there was a flutter among the +military lanterns, and one of them being handed into the coach by an arm +in uniform, the eyes connected with the arm looked, not an every day +or an every night look, at monsieur with the white head. “It is well. +Forward!” from the uniform. “Adieu!” from Defarge. And so, under a short +grove of feebler and feebler over-swinging lamps, out under the great +grove of stars. + +Beneath that arch of unmoved and eternal lights; some, so remote from +this little earth that the learned tell us it is doubtful whether their +rays have even yet discovered it, as a point in space where anything +is suffered or done: the shadows of the night were broad and black. +All through the cold and restless interval, until dawn, they once more +whispered in the ears of Mr. Jarvis Lorry--sitting opposite the buried +man who had been dug out, and wondering what subtle powers were for ever +lost to him, and what were capable of restoration--the old inquiry: + +“I hope you care to be recalled to life?” + +And the old answer: + +“I can't say.” + + +The end of the first book. + + + + + +Book the Second--the Golden Thread + + + + +I. Five Years Later + + +Tellson's Bank by Temple Bar was an old-fashioned place, even in the +year one thousand seven hundred and eighty. It was very small, very +dark, very ugly, very incommodious. It was an old-fashioned place, +moreover, in the moral attribute that the partners in the House were +proud of its smallness, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugliness, +proud of its incommodiousness. They were even boastful of its eminence +in those particulars, and were fired by an express conviction that, if +it were less objectionable, it would be less respectable. This was +no passive belief, but an active weapon which they flashed at more +convenient places of business. Tellson's (they said) wanted +no elbow-room, Tellson's wanted no light, Tellson's wanted no +embellishment. Noakes and Co.'s might, or Snooks Brothers' might; but +Tellson's, thank Heaven--! + +Any one of these partners would have disinherited his son on the +question of rebuilding Tellson's. In this respect the House was much +on a par with the Country; which did very often disinherit its sons for +suggesting improvements in laws and customs that had long been highly +objectionable, but were only the more respectable. + +Thus it had come to pass, that Tellson's was the triumphant perfection +of inconvenience. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with +a weak rattle in its throat, you fell into Tellson's down two steps, +and came to your senses in a miserable little shop, with two little +counters, where the oldest of men made your cheque shake as if the +wind rustled it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of +windows, which were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet-street, +and which were made the dingier by their own iron bars proper, and the +heavy shadow of Temple Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing +“the House,” you were put into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, +where you meditated on a misspent life, until the House came with its +hands in its pockets, and you could hardly blink at it in the dismal +twilight. Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden +drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when +they were opened and shut. Your bank-notes had a musty odour, as if they +were fast decomposing into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among +the neighbouring cesspools, and evil communications corrupted its good +polish in a day or two. Your deeds got into extemporised strong-rooms +made of kitchens and sculleries, and fretted all the fat out of their +parchments into the banking-house air. Your lighter boxes of family +papers went up-stairs into a Barmecide room, that always had a great +dining-table in it and never had a dinner, and where, even in the year +one thousand seven hundred and eighty, the first letters written to you +by your old love, or by your little children, were but newly released +from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads +exposed on Temple Bar with an insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of +Abyssinia or Ashantee. + +But indeed, at that time, putting to death was a recipe much in vogue +with all trades and professions, and not least of all with Tellson's. +Death is Nature's remedy for all things, and why not Legislation's? +Accordingly, the forger was put to Death; the utterer of a bad note +was put to Death; the unlawful opener of a letter was put to Death; the +purloiner of forty shillings and sixpence was put to Death; the holder +of a horse at Tellson's door, who made off with it, was put to +Death; the coiner of a bad shilling was put to Death; the sounders of +three-fourths of the notes in the whole gamut of Crime, were put to +Death. Not that it did the least good in the way of prevention--it +might almost have been worth remarking that the fact was exactly the +reverse--but, it cleared off (as to this world) the trouble of each +particular case, and left nothing else connected with it to be looked +after. Thus, Tellson's, in its day, like greater places of business, +its contemporaries, had taken so many lives, that, if the heads laid +low before it had been ranged on Temple Bar instead of being privately +disposed of, they would probably have excluded what little light the +ground floor had, in a rather significant manner. + +Cramped in all kinds of dim cupboards and hutches at Tellson's, the +oldest of men carried on the business gravely. When they took a young +man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was +old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full +Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to +be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his breeches +and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment. + +Outside Tellson's--never by any means in it, unless called in--was an +odd-job-man, an occasional porter and messenger, who served as the live +sign of the house. He was never absent during business hours, unless +upon an errand, and then he was represented by his son: a grisly urchin +of twelve, who was his express image. People understood that Tellson's, +in a stately way, tolerated the odd-job-man. The house had always +tolerated some person in that capacity, and time and tide had drifted +this person to the post. His surname was Cruncher, and on the youthful +occasion of his renouncing by proxy the works of darkness, in the +easterly parish church of Hounsditch, he had received the added +appellation of Jerry. + +The scene was Mr. Cruncher's private lodging in Hanging-sword-alley, +Whitefriars: the time, half-past seven of the clock on a windy March +morning, Anno Domini seventeen hundred and eighty. (Mr. Cruncher himself +always spoke of the year of our Lord as Anna Dominoes: apparently under +the impression that the Christian era dated from the invention of a +popular game, by a lady who had bestowed her name upon it.) + +Mr. Cruncher's apartments were not in a savoury neighbourhood, and were +but two in number, even if a closet with a single pane of glass in it +might be counted as one. But they were very decently kept. Early as +it was, on the windy March morning, the room in which he lay abed was +already scrubbed throughout; and between the cups and saucers arranged +for breakfast, and the lumbering deal table, a very clean white cloth +was spread. + +Mr. Cruncher reposed under a patchwork counterpane, like a Harlequin +at home. At first, he slept heavily, but, by degrees, began to roll +and surge in bed, until he rose above the surface, with his spiky hair +looking as if it must tear the sheets to ribbons. At which juncture, he +exclaimed, in a voice of dire exasperation: + +“Bust me, if she ain't at it agin!” + +A woman of orderly and industrious appearance rose from her knees in a +corner, with sufficient haste and trepidation to show that she was the +person referred to. + +“What!” said Mr. Cruncher, looking out of bed for a boot. “You're at it +agin, are you?” + +After hailing the morn with this second salutation, he threw a boot at +the woman as a third. It was a very muddy boot, and may introduce the +odd circumstance connected with Mr. Cruncher's domestic economy, that, +whereas he often came home after banking hours with clean boots, he +often got up next morning to find the same boots covered with clay. + +“What,” said Mr. Cruncher, varying his apostrophe after missing his +mark--“what are you up to, Aggerawayter?” + +“I was only saying my prayers.” + +“Saying your prayers! You're a nice woman! What do you mean by flopping +yourself down and praying agin me?” + +“I was not praying against you; I was praying for you.” + +“You weren't. And if you were, I won't be took the liberty with. Here! +your mother's a nice woman, young Jerry, going a praying agin your +father's prosperity. You've got a dutiful mother, you have, my son. +You've got a religious mother, you have, my boy: going and flopping +herself down, and praying that the bread-and-butter may be snatched out +of the mouth of her only child.” + +Master Cruncher (who was in his shirt) took this very ill, and, turning +to his mother, strongly deprecated any praying away of his personal +board. + +“And what do you suppose, you conceited female,” said Mr. Cruncher, with +unconscious inconsistency, “that the worth of _your_ prayers may be? +Name the price that you put _your_ prayers at!” + +“They only come from the heart, Jerry. They are worth no more than +that.” + +“Worth no more than that,” repeated Mr. Cruncher. “They ain't worth +much, then. Whether or no, I won't be prayed agin, I tell you. I can't +afford it. I'm not a going to be made unlucky by _your_ sneaking. If +you must go flopping yourself down, flop in favour of your husband and +child, and not in opposition to 'em. If I had had any but a unnat'ral +wife, and this poor boy had had any but a unnat'ral mother, I might +have made some money last week instead of being counter-prayed and +countermined and religiously circumwented into the worst of luck. +B-u-u-ust me!” said Mr. Cruncher, who all this time had been putting +on his clothes, “if I ain't, what with piety and one blowed thing and +another, been choused this last week into as bad luck as ever a poor +devil of a honest tradesman met with! Young Jerry, dress yourself, my +boy, and while I clean my boots keep a eye upon your mother now and +then, and if you see any signs of more flopping, give me a call. For, I +tell you,” here he addressed his wife once more, “I won't be gone agin, +in this manner. I am as rickety as a hackney-coach, I'm as sleepy as +laudanum, my lines is strained to that degree that I shouldn't know, if +it wasn't for the pain in 'em, which was me and which somebody else, yet +I'm none the better for it in pocket; and it's my suspicion that you've +been at it from morning to night to prevent me from being the better for +it in pocket, and I won't put up with it, Aggerawayter, and what do you +say now!” + +Growling, in addition, such phrases as “Ah! yes! You're religious, too. +You wouldn't put yourself in opposition to the interests of your husband +and child, would you? Not you!” and throwing off other sarcastic sparks +from the whirling grindstone of his indignation, Mr. Cruncher betook +himself to his boot-cleaning and his general preparation for business. +In the meantime, his son, whose head was garnished with tenderer spikes, +and whose young eyes stood close by one another, as his father's did, +kept the required watch upon his mother. He greatly disturbed that poor +woman at intervals, by darting out of his sleeping closet, where he made +his toilet, with a suppressed cry of “You are going to flop, mother. +--Halloa, father!” and, after raising this fictitious alarm, darting in +again with an undutiful grin. + +Mr. Cruncher's temper was not at all improved when he came to his +breakfast. He resented Mrs. Cruncher's saying grace with particular +animosity. + +“Now, Aggerawayter! What are you up to? At it again?” + +His wife explained that she had merely “asked a blessing.” + +“Don't do it!” said Mr. Crunches looking about, as if he rather expected +to see the loaf disappear under the efficacy of his wife's petitions. “I +ain't a going to be blest out of house and home. I won't have my wittles +blest off my table. Keep still!” + +Exceedingly red-eyed and grim, as if he had been up all night at a party +which had taken anything but a convivial turn, Jerry Cruncher worried +his breakfast rather than ate it, growling over it like any four-footed +inmate of a menagerie. Towards nine o'clock he smoothed his ruffled +aspect, and, presenting as respectable and business-like an exterior as +he could overlay his natural self with, issued forth to the occupation +of the day. + +It could scarcely be called a trade, in spite of his favourite +description of himself as “a honest tradesman.” His stock consisted of +a wooden stool, made out of a broken-backed chair cut down, which stool, +young Jerry, walking at his father's side, carried every morning to +beneath the banking-house window that was nearest Temple Bar: where, +with the addition of the first handful of straw that could be gleaned +from any passing vehicle to keep the cold and wet from the odd-job-man's +feet, it formed the encampment for the day. On this post of his, Mr. +Cruncher was as well known to Fleet-street and the Temple, as the Bar +itself,--and was almost as in-looking. + +Encamped at a quarter before nine, in good time to touch his +three-cornered hat to the oldest of men as they passed in to Tellson's, +Jerry took up his station on this windy March morning, with young Jerry +standing by him, when not engaged in making forays through the Bar, to +inflict bodily and mental injuries of an acute description on passing +boys who were small enough for his amiable purpose. Father and son, +extremely like each other, looking silently on at the morning traffic +in Fleet-street, with their two heads as near to one another as the two +eyes of each were, bore a considerable resemblance to a pair of monkeys. +The resemblance was not lessened by the accidental circumstance, that +the mature Jerry bit and spat out straw, while the twinkling eyes of the +youthful Jerry were as restlessly watchful of him as of everything else +in Fleet-street. + +The head of one of the regular indoor messengers attached to Tellson's +establishment was put through the door, and the word was given: + +“Porter wanted!” + +“Hooray, father! Here's an early job to begin with!” + +Having thus given his parent God speed, young Jerry seated himself on +the stool, entered on his reversionary interest in the straw his father +had been chewing, and cogitated. + +“Al-ways rusty! His fingers is al-ways rusty!” muttered young Jerry. +“Where does my father get all that iron rust from? He don't get no iron +rust here!” + + + + +II. A Sight + + +“You know the Old Bailey well, no doubt?” said one of the oldest of +clerks to Jerry the messenger. + +“Ye-es, sir,” returned Jerry, in something of a dogged manner. “I _do_ +know the Bailey.” + +“Just so. And you know Mr. Lorry.” + +“I know Mr. Lorry, sir, much better than I know the Bailey. Much +better,” said Jerry, not unlike a reluctant witness at the establishment +in question, “than I, as a honest tradesman, wish to know the Bailey.” + +“Very well. Find the door where the witnesses go in, and show the +door-keeper this note for Mr. Lorry. He will then let you in.” + +“Into the court, sir?” + +“Into the court.” + +Mr. Cruncher's eyes seemed to get a little closer to one another, and to +interchange the inquiry, “What do you think of this?” + +“Am I to wait in the court, sir?” he asked, as the result of that +conference. + +“I am going to tell you. The door-keeper will pass the note to Mr. +Lorry, and do you make any gesture that will attract Mr. Lorry's +attention, and show him where you stand. Then what you have to do, is, +to remain there until he wants you.” + +“Is that all, sir?” + +“That's all. He wishes to have a messenger at hand. This is to tell him +you are there.” + +As the ancient clerk deliberately folded and superscribed the note, +Mr. Cruncher, after surveying him in silence until he came to the +blotting-paper stage, remarked: + +“I suppose they'll be trying Forgeries this morning?” + +“Treason!” + +“That's quartering,” said Jerry. “Barbarous!” + +“It is the law,” remarked the ancient clerk, turning his surprised +spectacles upon him. “It is the law.” + +“It's hard in the law to spile a man, I think. It's hard enough to kill +him, but it's wery hard to spile him, sir.” + +“Not at all,” retained the ancient clerk. “Speak well of the law. Take +care of your chest and voice, my good friend, and leave the law to take +care of itself. I give you that advice.” + +“It's the damp, sir, what settles on my chest and voice,” said Jerry. “I +leave you to judge what a damp way of earning a living mine is.” + +“Well, well,” said the old clerk; “we all have our various ways of +gaining a livelihood. Some of us have damp ways, and some of us have dry +ways. Here is the letter. Go along.” + +Jerry took the letter, and, remarking to himself with less internal +deference than he made an outward show of, “You are a lean old one, +too,” made his bow, informed his son, in passing, of his destination, +and went his way. + +They hanged at Tyburn, in those days, so the street outside Newgate had +not obtained one infamous notoriety that has since attached to it. +But, the gaol was a vile place, in which most kinds of debauchery and +villainy were practised, and where dire diseases were bred, that came +into court with the prisoners, and sometimes rushed straight from the +dock at my Lord Chief Justice himself, and pulled him off the bench. It +had more than once happened, that the Judge in the black cap pronounced +his own doom as certainly as the prisoner's, and even died before him. +For the rest, the Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly inn-yard, +from which pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on +a violent passage into the other world: traversing some two miles and a +half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if any. +So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the beginning. It +was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old institution, that inflicted +a punishment of which no one could foresee the extent; also, for +the whipping-post, another dear old institution, very humanising and +softening to behold in action; also, for extensive transactions in +blood-money, another fragment of ancestral wisdom, systematically +leading to the most frightful mercenary crimes that could be committed +under Heaven. Altogether, the Old Bailey, at that date, was a choice +illustration of the precept, that “Whatever is is right;” an aphorism +that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome +consequence, that nothing that ever was, was wrong. + +Making his way through the tainted crowd, dispersed up and down this +hideous scene of action, with the skill of a man accustomed to make his +way quietly, the messenger found out the door he sought, and handed in +his letter through a trap in it. For, people then paid to see the play +at the Old Bailey, just as they paid to see the play in Bedlam--only the +former entertainment was much the dearer. Therefore, all the Old Bailey +doors were well guarded--except, indeed, the social doors by which the +criminals got there, and those were always left wide open. + +After some delay and demur, the door grudgingly turned on its hinges a +very little way, and allowed Mr. Jerry Cruncher to squeeze himself into +court. + +“What's on?” he asked, in a whisper, of the man he found himself next +to. + +“Nothing yet.” + +“What's coming on?” + +“The Treason case.” + +“The quartering one, eh?” + +“Ah!” returned the man, with a relish; “he'll be drawn on a hurdle to +be half hanged, and then he'll be taken down and sliced before his own +face, and then his inside will be taken out and burnt while he looks on, +and then his head will be chopped off, and he'll be cut into quarters. +That's the sentence.” + +“If he's found Guilty, you mean to say?” Jerry added, by way of proviso. + +“Oh! they'll find him guilty,” said the other. “Don't you be afraid of +that.” + +Mr. Cruncher's attention was here diverted to the door-keeper, whom he +saw making his way to Mr. Lorry, with the note in his hand. Mr. Lorry +sat at a table, among the gentlemen in wigs: not far from a wigged +gentleman, the prisoner's counsel, who had a great bundle of papers +before him: and nearly opposite another wigged gentleman with his hands +in his pockets, whose whole attention, when Mr. Cruncher looked at him +then or afterwards, seemed to be concentrated on the ceiling of the +court. After some gruff coughing and rubbing of his chin and signing +with his hand, Jerry attracted the notice of Mr. Lorry, who had stood up +to look for him, and who quietly nodded and sat down again. + +“What's _he_ got to do with the case?” asked the man he had spoken with. + +“Blest if I know,” said Jerry. + +“What have _you_ got to do with it, then, if a person may inquire?” + +“Blest if I know that either,” said Jerry. + +The entrance of the Judge, and a consequent great stir and settling +down in the court, stopped the dialogue. Presently, the dock became the +central point of interest. Two gaolers, who had been standing there, +went out, and the prisoner was brought in, and put to the bar. + +Everybody present, except the one wigged gentleman who looked at the +ceiling, stared at him. All the human breath in the place, rolled +at him, like a sea, or a wind, or a fire. Eager faces strained round +pillars and corners, to get a sight of him; spectators in back rows +stood up, not to miss a hair of him; people on the floor of the court, +laid their hands on the shoulders of the people before them, to help +themselves, at anybody's cost, to a view of him--stood a-tiptoe, got +upon ledges, stood upon next to nothing, to see every inch of him. +Conspicuous among these latter, like an animated bit of the spiked wall +of Newgate, Jerry stood: aiming at the prisoner the beery breath of a +whet he had taken as he came along, and discharging it to mingle with +the waves of other beer, and gin, and tea, and coffee, and what not, +that flowed at him, and already broke upon the great windows behind him +in an impure mist and rain. + +The object of all this staring and blaring, was a young man of about +five-and-twenty, well-grown and well-looking, with a sunburnt cheek and +a dark eye. His condition was that of a young gentleman. He was plainly +dressed in black, or very dark grey, and his hair, which was long and +dark, was gathered in a ribbon at the back of his neck; more to be out +of his way than for ornament. As an emotion of the mind will express +itself through any covering of the body, so the paleness which his +situation engendered came through the brown upon his cheek, showing the +soul to be stronger than the sun. He was otherwise quite self-possessed, +bowed to the Judge, and stood quiet. + +The sort of interest with which this man was stared and breathed at, +was not a sort that elevated humanity. Had he stood in peril of a less +horrible sentence--had there been a chance of any one of its savage +details being spared--by just so much would he have lost in his +fascination. The form that was to be doomed to be so shamefully mangled, +was the sight; the immortal creature that was to be so butchered +and torn asunder, yielded the sensation. Whatever gloss the various +spectators put upon the interest, according to their several arts and +powers of self-deceit, the interest was, at the root of it, Ogreish. + +Silence in the court! Charles Darnay had yesterday pleaded Not Guilty to +an indictment denouncing him (with infinite jingle and jangle) for that +he was a false traitor to our serene, illustrious, excellent, and so +forth, prince, our Lord the King, by reason of his having, on divers +occasions, and by divers means and ways, assisted Lewis, the French +King, in his wars against our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and +so forth; that was to say, by coming and going, between the dominions of +our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, and those of the +said French Lewis, and wickedly, falsely, traitorously, and otherwise +evil-adverbiously, revealing to the said French Lewis what forces our +said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, had in preparation +to send to Canada and North America. This much, Jerry, with his head +becoming more and more spiky as the law terms bristled it, made out with +huge satisfaction, and so arrived circuitously at the understanding that +the aforesaid, and over and over again aforesaid, Charles Darnay, stood +there before him upon his trial; that the jury were swearing in; and +that Mr. Attorney-General was making ready to speak. + +The accused, who was (and who knew he was) being mentally hanged, +beheaded, and quartered, by everybody there, neither flinched from +the situation, nor assumed any theatrical air in it. He was quiet and +attentive; watched the opening proceedings with a grave interest; +and stood with his hands resting on the slab of wood before him, so +composedly, that they had not displaced a leaf of the herbs with which +it was strewn. The court was all bestrewn with herbs and sprinkled with +vinegar, as a precaution against gaol air and gaol fever. + +Over the prisoner's head there was a mirror, to throw the light down +upon him. Crowds of the wicked and the wretched had been reflected in +it, and had passed from its surface and this earth's together. Haunted +in a most ghastly manner that abominable place would have been, if the +glass could ever have rendered back its reflections, as the ocean is one +day to give up its dead. Some passing thought of the infamy and disgrace +for which it had been reserved, may have struck the prisoner's mind. Be +that as it may, a change in his position making him conscious of a bar +of light across his face, he looked up; and when he saw the glass his +face flushed, and his right hand pushed the herbs away. + +It happened, that the action turned his face to that side of the court +which was on his left. About on a level with his eyes, there sat, +in that corner of the Judge's bench, two persons upon whom his look +immediately rested; so immediately, and so much to the changing of his +aspect, that all the eyes that were turned upon him, turned to them. + +The spectators saw in the two figures, a young lady of little more than +twenty, and a gentleman who was evidently her father; a man of a very +remarkable appearance in respect of the absolute whiteness of his hair, +and a certain indescribable intensity of face: not of an active kind, +but pondering and self-communing. When this expression was upon him, he +looked as if he were old; but when it was stirred and broken up--as +it was now, in a moment, on his speaking to his daughter--he became a +handsome man, not past the prime of life. + +His daughter had one of her hands drawn through his arm, as she sat by +him, and the other pressed upon it. She had drawn close to him, in her +dread of the scene, and in her pity for the prisoner. Her forehead had +been strikingly expressive of an engrossing terror and compassion +that saw nothing but the peril of the accused. This had been so very +noticeable, so very powerfully and naturally shown, that starers who +had had no pity for him were touched by her; and the whisper went about, +“Who are they?” + +Jerry, the messenger, who had made his own observations, in his own +manner, and who had been sucking the rust off his fingers in his +absorption, stretched his neck to hear who they were. The crowd about +him had pressed and passed the inquiry on to the nearest attendant, and +from him it had been more slowly pressed and passed back; at last it got +to Jerry: + +“Witnesses.” + +“For which side?” + +“Against.” + +“Against what side?” + +“The prisoner's.” + +The Judge, whose eyes had gone in the general direction, recalled them, +leaned back in his seat, and looked steadily at the man whose life was +in his hand, as Mr. Attorney-General rose to spin the rope, grind the +axe, and hammer the nails into the scaffold. + + + + +III. A Disappointment + + +Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before +them, though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which +claimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the +public enemy was not a correspondence of to-day, or of yesterday, or +even of last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain the +prisoner had, for longer than that, been in the habit of passing and +repassing between France and England, on secret business of which +he could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature of +traitorous ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the real +wickedness and guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered. +That Providence, however, had put it into the heart of a person who +was beyond fear and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature of the +prisoner's schemes, and, struck with horror, to disclose them to his +Majesty's Chief Secretary of State and most honourable Privy Council. +That, this patriot would be produced before them. That, his position and +attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner's +friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting his +infamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he could no longer cherish +in his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country. That, if statues +were decreed in Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome, to public +benefactors, this shining citizen would assuredly have had one. That, as +they were not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That, Virtue, +as had been observed by the poets (in many passages which he well +knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their tongues; +whereat the jury's countenances displayed a guilty consciousness that +they knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner contagious; more +especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of country. +That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable witness +for the Crown, to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour, had +communicated itself to the prisoner's servant, and had engendered in him +a holy determination to examine his master's table-drawers and pockets, +and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared to +hear some disparagement attempted of this admirable servant; but that, +in a general way, he preferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General's) +brothers and sisters, and honoured him more than his (Mr. +Attorney-General's) father and mother. That, he called with confidence +on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of these two +witnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering that would be +produced, would show the prisoner to have been furnished with lists of +his Majesty's forces, and of their disposition and preparation, both by +sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he had habitually conveyed +such information to a hostile power. That, these lists could not be +proved to be in the prisoner's handwriting; but that it was all the +same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, as +showing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proof +would go back five years, and would show the prisoner already engaged +in these pernicious missions, within a few weeks before the date of the +very first action fought between the British troops and the Americans. +That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they +were), and being a responsible jury (as _they_ knew they were), must +positively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether +they liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their +pillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying +their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notion +of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that +there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon +pillows at all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off. That head +Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of +everything he could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith +of his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner as +good as dead and gone. + +When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if +a cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in +anticipation of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, the +unimpeachable patriot appeared in the witness-box. + +Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader's lead, examined the +patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was +exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be--perhaps, if +it had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom +of its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the +wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. +Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting +opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court. + +Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation. +What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn't +precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody's. +Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relation. Very +distant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a debtors' +prison? Didn't see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtors' +prison?--Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or three +times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever +been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? +Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and fell +downstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at +dice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who +committed the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true? +Positively. Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Not +more than other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. +Ever pay him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality a +very slight one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? +No. Sure he saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more +about the lists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. +Expect to get anything by this evidence? No. Not in regular government +pay and employment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear +no. Swear that? Over and over again. No motives but motives of sheer +patriotism? None whatever. + +The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a +great rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and +simplicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais +packet, if he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him. +He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of +charity--never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of +the prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging +his clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists to these in the +prisoner's pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from +the drawer of the prisoner's desk. He had not put them there first. He +had seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemen +at Calais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais and +Boulogne. He loved his country, and couldn't bear it, and had given +information. He had never been suspected of stealing a silver tea-pot; +he had been maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be +only a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; +that was merely a coincidence. He didn't call it a particularly curious +coincidence; most coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a +curious coincidence that true patriotism was _his_ only motive too. He +was a true Briton, and hoped there were many like him. + +The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jarvis +Lorry. + +“Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson's bank?” + +“I am.” + +“On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred and +seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London and +Dover by the mail?” + +“It did.” + +“Were there any other passengers in the mail?” + +“Two.” + +“Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?” + +“They did.” + +“Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two passengers?” + +“I cannot undertake to say that he was.” + +“Does he resemble either of these two passengers?” + +“Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were all so +reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that.” + +“Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up as +those two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to +render it unlikely that he was one of them?” + +“No.” + +“You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?” + +“No.” + +“So at least you say he may have been one of them?” + +“Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been--like +myself--timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous +air.” + +“Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?” + +“I certainly have seen that.” + +“Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to your +certain knowledge, before?” + +“I have.” + +“When?” + +“I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, the +prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made the +voyage with me.” + +“At what hour did he come on board?” + +“At a little after midnight.” + +“In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on board +at that untimely hour?” + +“He happened to be the only one.” + +“Never mind about 'happening,' Mr. Lorry. He was the only passenger who +came on board in the dead of the night?” + +“He was.” + +“Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?” + +“With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here.” + +“They are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?” + +“Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and rough, and +I lay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore.” + +“Miss Manette!” + +The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were now +turned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her, and +kept her hand drawn through his arm. + +“Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner.” + +To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty, was +far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the crowd. +Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not all +the staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him +to remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs +before him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his efforts +to control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colour +rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again. + +“Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Where?” + +“On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same +occasion.” + +“You are the young lady just now referred to?” + +“O! most unhappily, I am!” + +The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voice +of the Judge, as he said something fiercely: “Answer the questions put +to you, and make no remark upon them.” + +“Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that +passage across the Channel?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Recall it.” + +In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: “When the +gentleman came on board--” + +“Do you mean the prisoner?” inquired the Judge, knitting his brows. + +“Yes, my Lord.” + +“Then say the prisoner.” + +“When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father,” turning +her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, “was much fatigued +and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was +afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the +deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take +care of him. There were no other passengers that night, but we four. +The prisoner was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could +shelter my father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. I +had not known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would +set when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressed +great gentleness and kindness for my father's state, and I am sure he +felt it. That was the manner of our beginning to speak together.” + +“Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?” + +“No.” + +“How many were with him?” + +“Two French gentlemen.” + +“Had they conferred together?” + +“They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was +necessary for the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat.” + +“Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these lists?” + +“Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don't know what +papers.” + +“Like these in shape and size?” + +“Possibly, but indeed I don't know, although they stood whispering very +near to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have the +light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they +spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that +they looked at papers.” + +“Now, to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette.” + +“The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me--which arose out +of my helpless situation--as he was kind, and good, and useful to my +father. I hope,” bursting into tears, “I may not repay him by doing him +harm to-day.” + +Buzzing from the blue-flies. + +“Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that +you give the evidence which it is your duty to give--which you must +give--and which you cannot escape from giving--with great unwillingness, +he is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on.” + +“He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and +difficult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was +therefore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this business +had, within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, +take him backwards and forwards between France and England for a long +time to come.” + +“Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular.” + +“He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said +that, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on +England's part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George +Washington might gain almost as great a name in history as George the +Third. But there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was said +laughingly, and to beguile the time.” + +Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in +a scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be +unconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully +anxious and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when +she stopped for the Judge to write it down, watched its effect upon +the counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same +expression in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majority +of the foreheads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness, +when the Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendous +heresy about George Washington. + +Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it +necessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady's +father, Doctor Manette. Who was called accordingly. + +“Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him before?” + +“Once. When he called at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or +three years and a half ago.” + +“Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet, or +speak to his conversation with your daughter?” + +“Sir, I can do neither.” + +“Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do +either?” + +He answered, in a low voice, “There is.” + +“Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment, without +trial, or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor Manette?” + +He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, “A long imprisonment.” + +“Were you newly released on the occasion in question?” + +“They tell me so.” + +“Have you no remembrance of the occasion?” + +“None. My mind is a blank, from some time--I cannot even say what +time--when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the +time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter +here. She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored +my faculties; but, I am quite unable even to say how she had become +familiar. I have no remembrance of the process.” + +Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down +together. + +A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being +to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, +in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, and +got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he did +not remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or more, +to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a witness +was called to identify him as having been at the precise time required, +in the coffee-room of an hotel in that garrison-and-dockyard town, +waiting for another person. The prisoner's counsel was cross-examining +this witness with no result, except that he had never seen the prisoner +on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all this time +been looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on a +little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Opening +this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great +attention and curiosity at the prisoner. + +“You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?” + +The witness was quite sure. + +“Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?” + +Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken. + +“Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there,” pointing +to him who had tossed the paper over, “and then look well upon the +prisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other?” + +Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slovenly +if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise, +not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus brought +into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay aside +his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness became +much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner's +counsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learned +friend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but he +would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once, might +happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if he had seen +this illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be so +confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to smash +this witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case to +useless lumber. + +Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his +fingers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr. +Stryver fitted the prisoner's case on the jury, like a compact suit +of clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and +traitor, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest +scoundrels upon earth since accursed Judas--which he certainly did look +rather like. How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, +and was worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and false +swearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family +affairs in France, he being of French extraction, did require his making +those passages across the Channel--though what those affairs were, a +consideration for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, +even for his life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped +and wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they +had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent +gallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any young gentleman +and young lady so thrown together;--with the exception of that +reference to George Washington, which was altogether too extravagant and +impossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. +How it would be a weakness in the government to break down in this +attempt to practise for popularity on the lowest national antipathies +and fears, and therefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; +how, nevertheless, it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamous +character of evidence too often disfiguring such cases, and of which the +State Trials of this country were full. But, there my Lord interposed +(with as grave a face as if it had not been true), saying that he could +not sit upon that Bench and suffer those allusions. + +Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to +attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr. +Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out; showing how Barsad and +Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the +prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turning +the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole +decidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner. + +And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed again. + +Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court, +changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. +While his learned friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, +whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced +anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and +grouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his seat, +and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a suspicion +in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this one man +sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put +on just as it had happened to light on his head after its removal, his +hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all +day. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave him +a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he +undoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, +when they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the +lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would +hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the +observation to his next neighbour, and added, “I'd hold half a guinea +that _he_ don't get no law-work to do. Don't look like the sort of one +to get any, do he?” + +Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he +appeared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette's head dropped upon +her father's breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: +“Officer! look to that young lady. Help the gentleman to take her out. +Don't you see she will fall!” + +There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and much +sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to +him, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown +strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or +brooding look which made him old, had been upon him, like a heavy cloud, +ever since. As he passed out, the jury, who had turned back and paused a +moment, spoke, through their foreman. + +They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with George +Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were not agreed, +but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward, +and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps in +the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the +jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get +refreshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and sat +down. + +Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out, +now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, +could easily get near him. + +“Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the +way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don't be a moment +behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You +are the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long +before I can.” + +Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in +acknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up +at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm. + +“How is the young lady?” + +“She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she +feels the better for being out of court.” + +“I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank gentleman +like you, to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know.” + +Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point +in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. +The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all +eyes, ears, and spikes. + +“Mr. Darnay!” + +The prisoner came forward directly. + +“You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. She +will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation.” + +“I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so +for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?” + +“Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it.” + +Mr. Carton's manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He stood, +half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the bar. + +“I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks.” + +“What,” said Carton, still only half turned towards him, “do you expect, +Mr. Darnay?” + +“The worst.” + +“It's the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their +withdrawing is in your favour.” + +Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no +more: but left them--so like each other in feature, so unlike each other +in manner--standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above +them. + +An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowded +passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. +The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking that +refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide +of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him along +with them. + +“Jerry! Jerry!” Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got +there. + +“Here, sir! It's a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!” + +Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. “Quick! Have you got +it?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +Hastily written on the paper was the word “ACQUITTED.” + +“If you had sent the message, 'Recalled to Life,' again,” muttered +Jerry, as he turned, “I should have known what you meant, this time.” + +He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything else, +until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring out +with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz +swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in +search of other carrion. + + + + +IV. Congratulatory + + +From the dimly-lighted passages of the court, the last sediment of the +human stew that had been boiling there all day, was straining off, when +Doctor Manette, Lucie Manette, his daughter, Mr. Lorry, the solicitor +for the defence, and its counsel, Mr. Stryver, stood gathered round Mr. +Charles Darnay--just released--congratulating him on his escape from +death. + +It would have been difficult by a far brighter light, to recognise +in Doctor Manette, intellectual of face and upright of bearing, the +shoemaker of the garret in Paris. Yet, no one could have looked at him +twice, without looking again: even though the opportunity of observation +had not extended to the mournful cadence of his low grave voice, and +to the abstraction that overclouded him fitfully, without any apparent +reason. While one external cause, and that a reference to his long +lingering agony, would always--as on the trial--evoke this condition +from the depths of his soul, it was also in its nature to arise of +itself, and to draw a gloom over him, as incomprehensible to those +unacquainted with his story as if they had seen the shadow of the actual +Bastille thrown upon him by a summer sun, when the substance was three +hundred miles away. + +Only his daughter had the power of charming this black brooding from +his mind. She was the golden thread that united him to a Past beyond his +misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and the sound of her voice, +the light of her face, the touch of her hand, had a strong beneficial +influence with him almost always. Not absolutely always, for she could +recall some occasions on which her power had failed; but they were few +and slight, and she believed them over. + +Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand fervently and gratefully, and had turned +to Mr. Stryver, whom he warmly thanked. Mr. Stryver, a man of little +more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than he was, stout, +loud, red, bluff, and free from any drawback of delicacy, had a pushing +way of shouldering himself (morally and physically) into companies and +conversations, that argued well for his shouldering his way up in life. + +He still had his wig and gown on, and he said, squaring himself at his +late client to that degree that he squeezed the innocent Mr. Lorry clean +out of the group: “I am glad to have brought you off with honour, Mr. +Darnay. It was an infamous prosecution, grossly infamous; but not the +less likely to succeed on that account.” + +“You have laid me under an obligation to you for life--in two senses,” + said his late client, taking his hand. + +“I have done my best for you, Mr. Darnay; and my best is as good as +another man's, I believe.” + +It clearly being incumbent on some one to say, “Much better,” Mr. Lorry +said it; perhaps not quite disinterestedly, but with the interested +object of squeezing himself back again. + +“You think so?” said Mr. Stryver. “Well! you have been present all day, +and you ought to know. You are a man of business, too.” + +“And as such,” quoth Mr. Lorry, whom the counsel learned in the law had +now shouldered back into the group, just as he had previously shouldered +him out of it--“as such I will appeal to Doctor Manette, to break up +this conference and order us all to our homes. Miss Lucie looks ill, Mr. +Darnay has had a terrible day, we are worn out.” + +“Speak for yourself, Mr. Lorry,” said Stryver; “I have a night's work to +do yet. Speak for yourself.” + +“I speak for myself,” answered Mr. Lorry, “and for Mr. Darnay, and for +Miss Lucie, and--Miss Lucie, do you not think I may speak for us all?” + He asked her the question pointedly, and with a glance at her father. + +His face had become frozen, as it were, in a very curious look at +Darnay: an intent look, deepening into a frown of dislike and distrust, +not even unmixed with fear. With this strange expression on him his +thoughts had wandered away. + +“My father,” said Lucie, softly laying her hand on his. + +He slowly shook the shadow off, and turned to her. + +“Shall we go home, my father?” + +With a long breath, he answered “Yes.” + +The friends of the acquitted prisoner had dispersed, under the +impression--which he himself had originated--that he would not be +released that night. The lights were nearly all extinguished in the +passages, the iron gates were being closed with a jar and a rattle, +and the dismal place was deserted until to-morrow morning's interest of +gallows, pillory, whipping-post, and branding-iron, should repeople it. +Walking between her father and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette passed into +the open air. A hackney-coach was called, and the father and daughter +departed in it. + +Mr. Stryver had left them in the passages, to shoulder his way back +to the robing-room. Another person, who had not joined the group, or +interchanged a word with any one of them, but who had been leaning +against the wall where its shadow was darkest, had silently strolled +out after the rest, and had looked on until the coach drove away. He now +stepped up to where Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay stood upon the pavement. + +“So, Mr. Lorry! Men of business may speak to Mr. Darnay now?” + +Nobody had made any acknowledgment of Mr. Carton's part in the day's +proceedings; nobody had known of it. He was unrobed, and was none the +better for it in appearance. + +“If you knew what a conflict goes on in the business mind, when the +business mind is divided between good-natured impulse and business +appearances, you would be amused, Mr. Darnay.” + +Mr. Lorry reddened, and said, warmly, “You have mentioned that before, +sir. We men of business, who serve a House, are not our own masters. We +have to think of the House more than ourselves.” + +“_I_ know, _I_ know,” rejoined Mr. Carton, carelessly. “Don't be +nettled, Mr. Lorry. You are as good as another, I have no doubt: better, +I dare say.” + +“And indeed, sir,” pursued Mr. Lorry, not minding him, “I really don't +know what you have to do with the matter. If you'll excuse me, as very +much your elder, for saying so, I really don't know that it is your +business.” + +“Business! Bless you, _I_ have no business,” said Mr. Carton. + +“It is a pity you have not, sir.” + +“I think so, too.” + +“If you had,” pursued Mr. Lorry, “perhaps you would attend to it.” + +“Lord love you, no!--I shouldn't,” said Mr. Carton. + +“Well, sir!” cried Mr. Lorry, thoroughly heated by his indifference, +“business is a very good thing, and a very respectable thing. And, sir, +if business imposes its restraints and its silences and impediments, Mr. +Darnay as a young gentleman of generosity knows how to make allowance +for that circumstance. Mr. Darnay, good night, God bless you, sir! +I hope you have been this day preserved for a prosperous and happy +life.--Chair there!” + +Perhaps a little angry with himself, as well as with the barrister, Mr. +Lorry bustled into the chair, and was carried off to Tellson's. Carton, +who smelt of port wine, and did not appear to be quite sober, laughed +then, and turned to Darnay: + +“This is a strange chance that throws you and me together. This must +be a strange night to you, standing alone here with your counterpart on +these street stones?” + +“I hardly seem yet,” returned Charles Darnay, “to belong to this world +again.” + +“I don't wonder at it; it's not so long since you were pretty far +advanced on your way to another. You speak faintly.” + +“I begin to think I _am_ faint.” + +“Then why the devil don't you dine? I dined, myself, while those +numskulls were deliberating which world you should belong to--this, or +some other. Let me show you the nearest tavern to dine well at.” + +Drawing his arm through his own, he took him down Ludgate-hill to +Fleet-street, and so, up a covered way, into a tavern. Here, they were +shown into a little room, where Charles Darnay was soon recruiting +his strength with a good plain dinner and good wine: while Carton sat +opposite to him at the same table, with his separate bottle of port +before him, and his fully half-insolent manner upon him. + +“Do you feel, yet, that you belong to this terrestrial scheme again, Mr. +Darnay?” + +“I am frightfully confused regarding time and place; but I am so far +mended as to feel that.” + +“It must be an immense satisfaction!” + +He said it bitterly, and filled up his glass again: which was a large +one. + +“As to me, the greatest desire I have, is to forget that I belong to it. +It has no good in it for me--except wine like this--nor I for it. So we +are not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we are +not much alike in any particular, you and I.” + +Confused by the emotion of the day, and feeling his being there with +this Double of coarse deportment, to be like a dream, Charles Darnay was +at a loss how to answer; finally, answered not at all. + +“Now your dinner is done,” Carton presently said, “why don't you call a +health, Mr. Darnay; why don't you give your toast?” + +“What health? What toast?” + +“Why, it's on the tip of your tongue. It ought to be, it must be, I'll +swear it's there.” + +“Miss Manette, then!” + +“Miss Manette, then!” + +Looking his companion full in the face while he drank the toast, Carton +flung his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it shivered to +pieces; then, rang the bell, and ordered in another. + +“That's a fair young lady to hand to a coach in the dark, Mr. Darnay!” + he said, filling his new goblet. + +A slight frown and a laconic “Yes,” were the answer. + +“That's a fair young lady to be pitied by and wept for by! How does it +feel? Is it worth being tried for one's life, to be the object of such +sympathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?” + +Again Darnay answered not a word. + +“She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it her. Not +that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was.” + +The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this +disagreeable companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in the +strait of the day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and thanked him +for it. + +“I neither want any thanks, nor merit any,” was the careless rejoinder. +“It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don't know why I did +it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question.” + +“Willingly, and a small return for your good offices.” + +“Do you think I particularly like you?” + +“Really, Mr. Carton,” returned the other, oddly disconcerted, “I have +not asked myself the question.” + +“But ask yourself the question now.” + +“You have acted as if you do; but I don't think you do.” + +“_I_ don't think I do,” said Carton. “I begin to have a very good +opinion of your understanding.” + +“Nevertheless,” pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, “there is +nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and our +parting without ill-blood on either side.” + +Carton rejoining, “Nothing in life!” Darnay rang. “Do you call the whole +reckoning?” said Carton. On his answering in the affirmative, “Then +bring me another pint of this same wine, drawer, and come and wake me at +ten.” + +The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good night. +Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with something of a threat +of defiance in his manner, and said, “A last word, Mr. Darnay: you think +I am drunk?” + +“I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton.” + +“Think? You know I have been drinking.” + +“Since I must say so, I know it.” + +“Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I +care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me.” + +“Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better.” + +“May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don't let your sober face elate you, +however; you don't know what it may come to. Good night!” + +When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle, went to a +glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it. + +“Do you particularly like the man?” he muttered, at his own image; “why +should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing +in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change you have +made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he shows you +what you have fallen away from, and what you might have been! Change +places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as +he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he was? Come on, and +have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow.” + +He resorted to his pint of wine for consolation, drank it all in a few +minutes, and fell asleep on his arms, with his hair straggling over the +table, and a long winding-sheet in the candle dripping down upon him. + + + + +V. The Jackal + + +Those were drinking days, and most men drank hard. So very great is +the improvement Time has brought about in such habits, that a moderate +statement of the quantity of wine and punch which one man would swallow +in the course of a night, without any detriment to his reputation as a +perfect gentleman, would seem, in these days, a ridiculous exaggeration. +The learned profession of the law was certainly not behind any other +learned profession in its Bacchanalian propensities; neither was Mr. +Stryver, already fast shouldering his way to a large and lucrative +practice, behind his compeers in this particular, any more than in the +drier parts of the legal race. + +A favourite at the Old Bailey, and eke at the Sessions, Mr. Stryver had +begun cautiously to hew away the lower staves of the ladder on which +he mounted. Sessions and Old Bailey had now to summon their favourite, +specially, to their longing arms; and shouldering itself towards the +visage of the Lord Chief Justice in the Court of King's Bench, the +florid countenance of Mr. Stryver might be daily seen, bursting out of +the bed of wigs, like a great sunflower pushing its way at the sun from +among a rank garden-full of flaring companions. + +It had once been noted at the Bar, that while Mr. Stryver was a glib +man, and an unscrupulous, and a ready, and a bold, he had not that +faculty of extracting the essence from a heap of statements, which is +among the most striking and necessary of the advocate's accomplishments. +But, a remarkable improvement came upon him as to this. The more +business he got, the greater his power seemed to grow of getting at its +pith and marrow; and however late at night he sat carousing with Sydney +Carton, he always had his points at his fingers' ends in the morning. + +Sydney Carton, idlest and most unpromising of men, was Stryver's great +ally. What the two drank together, between Hilary Term and Michaelmas, +might have floated a king's ship. Stryver never had a case in hand, +anywhere, but Carton was there, with his hands in his pockets, staring +at the ceiling of the court; they went the same Circuit, and even there +they prolonged their usual orgies late into the night, and Carton was +rumoured to be seen at broad day, going home stealthily and unsteadily +to his lodgings, like a dissipated cat. At last, it began to get about, +among such as were interested in the matter, that although Sydney Carton +would never be a lion, he was an amazingly good jackal, and that he +rendered suit and service to Stryver in that humble capacity. + +“Ten o'clock, sir,” said the man at the tavern, whom he had charged to +wake him--“ten o'clock, sir.” + +“_What's_ the matter?” + +“Ten o'clock, sir.” + +“What do you mean? Ten o'clock at night?” + +“Yes, sir. Your honour told me to call you.” + +“Oh! I remember. Very well, very well.” + +After a few dull efforts to get to sleep again, which the man +dexterously combated by stirring the fire continuously for five minutes, +he got up, tossed his hat on, and walked out. He turned into the Temple, +and, having revived himself by twice pacing the pavements of King's +Bench-walk and Paper-buildings, turned into the Stryver chambers. + +The Stryver clerk, who never assisted at these conferences, had gone +home, and the Stryver principal opened the door. He had his slippers on, +and a loose bed-gown, and his throat was bare for his greater ease. He +had that rather wild, strained, seared marking about the eyes, which +may be observed in all free livers of his class, from the portrait of +Jeffries downward, and which can be traced, under various disguises of +Art, through the portraits of every Drinking Age. + +“You are a little late, Memory,” said Stryver. + +“About the usual time; it may be a quarter of an hour later.” + +They went into a dingy room lined with books and littered with papers, +where there was a blazing fire. A kettle steamed upon the hob, and in +the midst of the wreck of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine upon +it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons. + +“You have had your bottle, I perceive, Sydney.” + +“Two to-night, I think. I have been dining with the day's client; or +seeing him dine--it's all one!” + +“That was a rare point, Sydney, that you brought to bear upon the +identification. How did you come by it? When did it strike you?” + +“I thought he was rather a handsome fellow, and I thought I should have +been much the same sort of fellow, if I had had any luck.” + +Mr. Stryver laughed till he shook his precocious paunch. + +“You and your luck, Sydney! Get to work, get to work.” + +Sullenly enough, the jackal loosened his dress, went into an adjoining +room, and came back with a large jug of cold water, a basin, and a towel +or two. Steeping the towels in the water, and partially wringing them +out, he folded them on his head in a manner hideous to behold, sat down +at the table, and said, “Now I am ready!” + +“Not much boiling down to be done to-night, Memory,” said Mr. Stryver, +gaily, as he looked among his papers. + +“How much?” + +“Only two sets of them.” + +“Give me the worst first.” + +“There they are, Sydney. Fire away!” + +The lion then composed himself on his back on a sofa on one side of the +drinking-table, while the jackal sat at his own paper-bestrewn table +proper, on the other side of it, with the bottles and glasses ready to +his hand. Both resorted to the drinking-table without stint, but each in +a different way; the lion for the most part reclining with his hands in +his waistband, looking at the fire, or occasionally flirting with some +lighter document; the jackal, with knitted brows and intent face, +so deep in his task, that his eyes did not even follow the hand he +stretched out for his glass--which often groped about, for a minute or +more, before it found the glass for his lips. Two or three times, the +matter in hand became so knotty, that the jackal found it imperative on +him to get up, and steep his towels anew. From these pilgrimages to the +jug and basin, he returned with such eccentricities of damp headgear as +no words can describe; which were made the more ludicrous by his anxious +gravity. + +At length the jackal had got together a compact repast for the lion, and +proceeded to offer it to him. The lion took it with care and caution, +made his selections from it, and his remarks upon it, and the jackal +assisted both. When the repast was fully discussed, the lion put his +hands in his waistband again, and lay down to meditate. The jackal then +invigorated himself with a bumper for his throttle, and a fresh application +to his head, and applied himself to the collection of a second meal; +this was administered to the lion in the same manner, and was not +disposed of until the clocks struck three in the morning. + +“And now we have done, Sydney, fill a bumper of punch,” said Mr. +Stryver. + +The jackal removed the towels from his head, which had been steaming +again, shook himself, yawned, shivered, and complied. + +“You were very sound, Sydney, in the matter of those crown witnesses +to-day. Every question told.” + +“I always am sound; am I not?” + +“I don't gainsay it. What has roughened your temper? Put some punch to +it and smooth it again.” + +With a deprecatory grunt, the jackal again complied. + +“The old Sydney Carton of old Shrewsbury School,” said Stryver, nodding +his head over him as he reviewed him in the present and the past, “the +old seesaw Sydney. Up one minute and down the next; now in spirits and +now in despondency!” + +“Ah!” returned the other, sighing: “yes! The same Sydney, with the same +luck. Even then, I did exercises for other boys, and seldom did my own.” + +“And why not?” + +“God knows. It was my way, I suppose.” + +He sat, with his hands in his pockets and his legs stretched out before +him, looking at the fire. + +“Carton,” said his friend, squaring himself at him with a bullying air, +as if the fire-grate had been the furnace in which sustained endeavour +was forged, and the one delicate thing to be done for the old Sydney +Carton of old Shrewsbury School was to shoulder him into it, “your way +is, and always was, a lame way. You summon no energy and purpose. Look +at me.” + +“Oh, botheration!” returned Sydney, with a lighter and more +good-humoured laugh, “don't _you_ be moral!” + +“How have I done what I have done?” said Stryver; “how do I do what I +do?” + +“Partly through paying me to help you, I suppose. But it's not worth +your while to apostrophise me, or the air, about it; what you want to +do, you do. You were always in the front rank, and I was always behind.” + +“I had to get into the front rank; I was not born there, was I?” + +“I was not present at the ceremony; but my opinion is you were,” said +Carton. At this, he laughed again, and they both laughed. + +“Before Shrewsbury, and at Shrewsbury, and ever since Shrewsbury,” + pursued Carton, “you have fallen into your rank, and I have fallen into +mine. Even when we were fellow-students in the Student-Quarter of Paris, +picking up French, and French law, and other French crumbs that we +didn't get much good of, you were always somewhere, and I was always +nowhere.” + +“And whose fault was that?” + +“Upon my soul, I am not sure that it was not yours. You were always +driving and riving and shouldering and passing, to that restless degree +that I had no chance for my life but in rust and repose. It's a gloomy +thing, however, to talk about one's own past, with the day breaking. +Turn me in some other direction before I go.” + +“Well then! Pledge me to the pretty witness,” said Stryver, holding up +his glass. “Are you turned in a pleasant direction?” + +Apparently not, for he became gloomy again. + +“Pretty witness,” he muttered, looking down into his glass. “I have had +enough of witnesses to-day and to-night; who's your pretty witness?” + +“The picturesque doctor's daughter, Miss Manette.” + +“_She_ pretty?” + +“Is she not?” + +“No.” + +“Why, man alive, she was the admiration of the whole Court!” + +“Rot the admiration of the whole Court! Who made the Old Bailey a judge +of beauty? She was a golden-haired doll!” + +“Do you know, Sydney,” said Mr. Stryver, looking at him with sharp eyes, +and slowly drawing a hand across his florid face: “do you know, I rather +thought, at the time, that you sympathised with the golden-haired doll, +and were quick to see what happened to the golden-haired doll?” + +“Quick to see what happened! If a girl, doll or no doll, swoons within a +yard or two of a man's nose, he can see it without a perspective-glass. +I pledge you, but I deny the beauty. And now I'll have no more drink; +I'll get to bed.” + +When his host followed him out on the staircase with a candle, to light +him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in through its grimy +windows. When he got out of the house, the air was cold and sad, the +dull sky overcast, the river dark and dim, the whole scene like a +lifeless desert. And wreaths of dust were spinning round and round +before the morning blast, as if the desert-sand had risen far away, and +the first spray of it in its advance had begun to overwhelm the city. + +Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still +on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the +wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and +perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries +from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the +fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. +A moment, and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of +houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its +pillow was wet with wasted tears. + +Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of +good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, +incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight +on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away. + + + + +VI. Hundreds of People + + +The quiet lodgings of Doctor Manette were in a quiet street-corner not +far from Soho-square. On the afternoon of a certain fine Sunday when the +waves of four months had rolled over the trial for treason, and carried +it, as to the public interest and memory, far out to sea, Mr. Jarvis +Lorry walked along the sunny streets from Clerkenwell where he lived, +on his way to dine with the Doctor. After several relapses into +business-absorption, Mr. Lorry had become the Doctor's friend, and the +quiet street-corner was the sunny part of his life. + +On this certain fine Sunday, Mr. Lorry walked towards Soho, early in +the afternoon, for three reasons of habit. Firstly, because, on fine +Sundays, he often walked out, before dinner, with the Doctor and Lucie; +secondly, because, on unfavourable Sundays, he was accustomed to be with +them as the family friend, talking, reading, looking out of window, and +generally getting through the day; thirdly, because he happened to have +his own little shrewd doubts to solve, and knew how the ways of the +Doctor's household pointed to that time as a likely time for solving +them. + +A quainter corner than the corner where the Doctor lived, was not to be +found in London. There was no way through it, and the front windows of +the Doctor's lodgings commanded a pleasant little vista of street that +had a congenial air of retirement on it. There were few buildings then, +north of the Oxford-road, and forest-trees flourished, and wild flowers +grew, and the hawthorn blossomed, in the now vanished fields. As a +consequence, country airs circulated in Soho with vigorous freedom, +instead of languishing into the parish like stray paupers without a +settlement; and there was many a good south wall, not far off, on which +the peaches ripened in their season. + +The summer light struck into the corner brilliantly in the earlier part +of the day; but, when the streets grew hot, the corner was in shadow, +though not in shadow so remote but that you could see beyond it into a +glare of brightness. It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful +place for echoes, and a very harbour from the raging streets. + +There ought to have been a tranquil bark in such an anchorage, and +there was. The Doctor occupied two floors of a large stiff house, where +several callings purported to be pursued by day, but whereof little was +audible any day, and which was shunned by all of them at night. In +a building at the back, attainable by a courtyard where a plane-tree +rustled its green leaves, church-organs claimed to be made, and silver +to be chased, and likewise gold to be beaten by some mysterious giant +who had a golden arm starting out of the wall of the front hall--as if +he had beaten himself precious, and menaced a similar conversion of all +visitors. Very little of these trades, or of a lonely lodger rumoured +to live up-stairs, or of a dim coach-trimming maker 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 heard across the courtyard, or a +thump from the golden giant. These, however, were only the exceptions +required to prove the rule that the sparrows in the plane-tree behind +the house, and the echoes in the corner before it, had their own way +from Sunday morning unto Saturday night. + +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 conducting +ingenious 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, and +notice, when he rang the door-bell of the tranquil house in the corner, +on the fine Sunday afternoon. + +“Doctor Manette at home?” + +Expected home. + +“Miss Lucie at home?” + +Expected home. + +“Miss Pross at home?” + +Possibly at home, but of a certainty impossible for handmaid to +anticipate intentions of Miss Pross, as to admission or denial of the +fact. + +“As I am at home myself,” said Mr. Lorry, “I'll go upstairs.” + +Although the Doctor's daughter had known nothing of the country of her +birth, she appeared to have innately derived from it that ability to +make much of little means, which is one of its most useful and most +agreeable characteristics. Simple as the furniture was, it was set off +by so many little adornments, of no value but for their taste and fancy, +that its effect was delightful. The disposition of everything in the +rooms, from the largest object to the least; the arrangement of colours, +the elegant variety and contrast obtained by thrift in trifles, by +delicate hands, clear eyes, and good sense; were at once so pleasant in +themselves, and so expressive of their originator, that, as Mr. Lorry +stood looking about him, the very chairs and tables seemed to ask him, +with something of that peculiar expression which he knew so well by this +time, whether he approved? + +There were three rooms on a floor, and, the doors by which they +communicated being put open that the air might pass freely through them +all, Mr. Lorry, smilingly observant of that fanciful resemblance which +he detected all around him, walked from one to another. The first was +the best room, and in it were Lucie's birds, and flowers, and books, +and desk, and work-table, and box of water-colours; the second was +the Doctor's consulting-room, used also as the dining-room; the third, +changingly speckled by the rustle of the plane-tree in the yard, was the +Doctor's bedroom, and there, in a corner, stood the disused shoemaker's +bench and tray of tools, much as it had stood on the fifth floor of the +dismal house by the wine-shop, in the suburb of Saint Antoine in Paris. + +“I wonder,” said Mr. Lorry, pausing in his looking about, “that he keeps +that reminder of his sufferings about him!” + +“And why wonder at that?” was the abrupt inquiry that made him start. + +It proceeded from Miss Pross, the wild red woman, strong of hand, whose +acquaintance he had first made at the Royal George Hotel at Dover, and +had since improved. + +“I should have thought--” Mr. Lorry began. + +“Pooh! You'd have thought!” said Miss Pross; and Mr. Lorry left off. + +“How do you do?” inquired that lady then--sharply, and yet as if to +express that she bore him no malice. + +“I am pretty well, I thank you,” answered Mr. Lorry, with meekness; “how +are you?” + +“Nothing to boast of,” said Miss Pross. + +“Indeed?” + +“Ah! indeed!” said Miss Pross. “I am very much put out about my +Ladybird.” + +“Indeed?” + +“For gracious sake say something else besides 'indeed,' or you'll +fidget me to death,” said Miss Pross: whose character (dissociated from +stature) was shortness. + +“Really, then?” said Mr. Lorry, as an amendment. + +“Really, is bad enough,” returned Miss Pross, “but better. Yes, I am +very much put out.” + +“May I ask the cause?” + +“I don't want dozens of people who are not at all worthy of Ladybird, to +come here looking after her,” said Miss Pross. + +“_Do_ dozens come for that purpose?” + +“Hundreds,” said Miss Pross. + +It was characteristic of this lady (as of some other people before her +time and since) that whenever her original proposition was questioned, +she exaggerated it. + +“Dear me!” said Mr. Lorry, as the safest remark he could think of. + +“I have lived with the darling--or the darling has lived with me, and +paid me for it; which she certainly should never have done, you may take +your affidavit, if I could have afforded to keep either myself or her +for nothing--since she was ten years old. And it's really very hard,” + said Miss Pross. + +Not seeing with precision what was very hard, Mr. Lorry shook his head; +using that important part of himself as a sort of fairy cloak that would +fit anything. + +“All sorts of people who are not in the least degree worthy of the pet, +are always turning up,” said Miss Pross. “When you began it--” + +“_I_ began it, Miss Pross?” + +“Didn't you? Who brought her father to life?” + +“Oh! If _that_ was beginning it--” said Mr. Lorry. + +“It wasn't ending it, I suppose? I say, when you began it, it was hard +enough; not that I have any fault to find with Doctor Manette, except +that he is not worthy of such a daughter, which is no imputation on +him, for it was not to be expected that anybody should be, under any +circumstances. But it really is doubly and trebly hard to have crowds +and multitudes of people turning up after him (I could have forgiven +him), to take Ladybird's affections away from me.” + +Mr. Lorry knew Miss Pross to be very jealous, but he also knew her by +this time to be, beneath the service of her eccentricity, one of those +unselfish creatures--found only among women--who will, for pure love and +admiration, bind themselves willing slaves, to youth when they have lost +it, to beauty that they never had, to accomplishments that they were +never fortunate enough to gain, to bright hopes that never shone upon +their own sombre lives. He knew enough of the world to know that there +is nothing in it better than the faithful service of the heart; so +rendered and so free from any mercenary taint, he had such an exalted +respect for it, that in the retributive arrangements made by his own +mind--we all make such arrangements, more or less--he stationed Miss +Pross much nearer to the lower Angels than many ladies immeasurably +better got up both by Nature and Art, who had balances at Tellson's. + +“There never was, nor will be, but one man worthy of Ladybird,” said +Miss Pross; “and that was my brother Solomon, if he hadn't made a +mistake in life.” + +Here again: Mr. Lorry's inquiries into Miss Pross's personal history had +established the fact that her brother Solomon was a heartless scoundrel +who had stripped her of everything she possessed, as a stake to +speculate with, and had abandoned her in her poverty for evermore, with +no touch of compunction. Miss Pross's fidelity of belief in Solomon +(deducting a mere trifle for this slight mistake) was quite a serious +matter with Mr. Lorry, and had its weight in his good opinion of her. + +“As we happen to be alone for the moment, and are both people of +business,” he said, when they had got back to the drawing-room and had +sat down there in friendly relations, “let me ask you--does the Doctor, +in talking with Lucie, never refer to the shoemaking time, yet?” + +“Never.” + +“And yet keeps that bench and those tools beside him?” + +“Ah!” returned Miss Pross, shaking her head. “But I don't say he don't +refer to it within himself.” + +“Do you believe that he thinks of it much?” + +“I do,” said Miss Pross. + +“Do you imagine--” Mr. Lorry had begun, when Miss Pross took him up +short with: + +“Never imagine anything. Have no imagination at all.” + +“I stand corrected; do you suppose--you go so far as to suppose, +sometimes?” + +“Now and then,” said Miss Pross. + +“Do you suppose,” Mr. Lorry went on, with a laughing twinkle in his +bright eye, as it looked kindly at her, “that Doctor Manette has any +theory of his own, preserved through all those years, relative to +the cause of his being so oppressed; perhaps, even to the name of his +oppressor?” + +“I don't suppose anything about it but what Ladybird tells me.” + +“And that is--?” + +“That she thinks he has.” + +“Now don't be angry at my asking all these questions; because I am a +mere dull man of business, and you are a woman of business.” + +“Dull?” Miss Pross inquired, with placidity. + +Rather wishing his modest adjective away, Mr. Lorry replied, “No, no, +no. Surely not. To return to business:--Is it not remarkable that Doctor +Manette, unquestionably innocent of any crime as we are all well assured +he is, should never touch upon that question? I will not say with me, +though he had business relations with me many years ago, and we are now +intimate; I will say with the fair daughter to whom he is so devotedly +attached, and who is so devotedly attached to him? Believe me, Miss +Pross, I don't approach the topic with you, out of curiosity, but out of +zealous interest.” + +“Well! To the best of my understanding, and bad's the best, you'll tell +me,” said Miss Pross, softened by the tone of the apology, “he is afraid +of the whole subject.” + +“Afraid?” + +“It's plain enough, I should think, why he may be. It's a dreadful +remembrance. Besides that, his loss of himself grew out of it. Not +knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never +feel certain of not losing himself again. That alone wouldn't make the +subject pleasant, I should think.” + +It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had looked for. “True,” said +he, “and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a doubt lurks in my mind, Miss +Pross, whether it is good for Doctor Manette to have that suppression +always shut up within him. Indeed, it is this doubt and the uneasiness +it sometimes causes me that has led me to our present confidence.” + +“Can't be helped,” said Miss Pross, shaking her head. “Touch that +string, and he instantly changes for the worse. Better leave it alone. +In short, must leave it alone, like or no like. Sometimes, he gets up in +the dead of the night, and will be heard, by us overhead there, walking +up and down, walking up and down, in his room. Ladybird has learnt to +know then that his mind is walking up and down, walking up and down, in +his old prison. She hurries to him, and they go on together, walking up +and down, walking up and down, until he is composed. But he never says +a word of the true reason of his restlessness, to her, and she finds it +best not to hint at it to him. In silence they go walking up and down +together, walking up and down together, till her love and company have +brought him to himself.” + +Notwithstanding Miss Pross's denial of her own imagination, there was a +perception of the pain of being monotonously haunted by one sad idea, +in her repetition of the phrase, walking up and down, which testified to +her possessing such a thing. + +The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner for echoes; it +had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread of coming feet, that it +seemed as though the very mention of that weary pacing to and fro had +set it going. + +“Here they are!” said Miss Pross, rising to break up the conference; +“and now we shall have hundreds of people pretty soon!” + +It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a +peculiar Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open window, +looking for the father and daughter whose steps he heard, he fancied +they would never approach. Not only would the echoes die away, as though +the steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps that never came would be +heard in their stead, and would die away for good when they seemed close +at hand. However, father and daughter did at last appear, and Miss Pross +was ready at the street door to receive them. + +Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking +off her darling's bonnet when she came up-stairs, and touching it up +with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the dust off it, and +folding her mantle ready for laying by, and smoothing her rich hair with +as much pride as she could possibly have taken in her own hair if she +had been the vainest and handsomest of women. Her darling was a pleasant +sight too, embracing her and thanking her, and protesting against +her taking so much trouble for her--which last she only dared to do +playfully, or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to her own +chamber and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too, looking on at +them, and telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accents and with +eyes that had as much spoiling in them as Miss Pross had, and would +have had more if it were possible. Mr. Lorry was a pleasant sight too, +beaming at all this in his little wig, and thanking his bachelor +stars for having lighted him in his declining years to a Home. But, no +Hundreds of people came to see the sights, and Mr. Lorry looked in vain +for the fulfilment of Miss Pross's prediction. + +Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In the arrangements of +the little household, Miss Pross took charge of the lower regions, and +always acquitted herself marvellously. Her dinners, of a very modest +quality, were so well cooked and so well served, and so neat in their +contrivances, half English and half French, that nothing could be +better. Miss Pross's friendship being of the thoroughly practical +kind, she had ravaged Soho and the adjacent provinces, in search of +impoverished French, who, tempted by shillings and half-crowns, would +impart culinary mysteries to her. From these decayed sons and daughters +of Gaul, she had acquired such wonderful arts, that the woman and girl +who formed the staff of domestics regarded her as quite a Sorceress, +or Cinderella's Godmother: who would send out for a fowl, a rabbit, +a vegetable or two from the garden, and change them into anything she +pleased. + +On Sundays, Miss Pross dined at the Doctor's table, but on other days +persisted in taking her meals at unknown periods, either in the lower +regions, or in her own room on the second floor--a blue chamber, to +which no one but her Ladybird ever gained admittance. On this occasion, +Miss Pross, responding to Ladybird's pleasant face and pleasant efforts +to please her, unbent exceedingly; so the dinner was very pleasant, too. + +It was an oppressive day, and, after dinner, Lucie proposed that the +wine should be carried out under the plane-tree, and they should sit +there in the air. As everything turned upon her, and revolved about her, +they went out under the plane-tree, and she carried the wine down for +the special benefit of Mr. Lorry. She had installed herself, some +time before, as Mr. Lorry's cup-bearer; and while they sat under the +plane-tree, talking, she kept his glass replenished. Mysterious backs +and ends of houses peeped at them as they talked, and the plane-tree +whispered to them in its own way above their heads. + +Still, the Hundreds of people did not present themselves. Mr. Darnay +presented himself while they were sitting under the plane-tree, but he +was only One. + +Doctor Manette received him kindly, and so did Lucie. But, Miss Pross +suddenly became afflicted with a twitching in the head and body, and +retired into the house. She was not unfrequently the victim of this +disorder, and she called it, in familiar conversation, “a fit of the +jerks.” + +The Doctor was in his best condition, and looked specially young. The +resemblance between him and Lucie was very strong at such times, and as +they sat side by side, she leaning on his shoulder, and he resting +his arm on the back of her chair, it was very agreeable to trace the +likeness. + +He had been talking all day, on many subjects, and with unusual +vivacity. “Pray, Doctor Manette,” said Mr. Darnay, as they sat under the +plane-tree--and he said it in the natural pursuit of the topic in hand, +which happened to be the old buildings of London--“have you seen much of +the Tower?” + +“Lucie and I have been there; but only casually. We have seen enough of +it, to know that it teems with interest; little more.” + +“_I_ have been there, as you remember,” said Darnay, with a smile, +though reddening a little angrily, “in another character, and not in a +character that gives facilities for seeing much of it. They told me a +curious thing when I was there.” + +“What was that?” Lucie asked. + +“In making some alterations, the workmen came upon an old dungeon, which +had been, for many years, built up and forgotten. Every stone of +its inner wall was covered by inscriptions which had been carved by +prisoners--dates, names, complaints, and prayers. Upon a corner stone +in an angle of the wall, one prisoner, who seemed to have gone to +execution, had cut as his last work, three letters. They were done with +some very poor instrument, and hurriedly, with an unsteady hand. +At first, they were read as D. I. C.; but, on being more carefully +examined, the last letter was found to be G. There was no record or +legend of any prisoner with those initials, and many fruitless guesses +were made what the name could have been. At length, it was suggested +that the letters were not initials, but the complete word, DIG. The +floor was examined very carefully under the inscription, and, in the +earth beneath a stone, or tile, or some fragment of paving, were found +the ashes of a paper, mingled with the ashes of a small leathern case +or bag. What the unknown prisoner had written will never be read, but he +had written something, and hidden it away to keep it from the gaoler.” + +“My father,” exclaimed Lucie, “you are ill!” + +He had suddenly started up, with his hand to his head. His manner and +his look quite terrified them all. + +“No, my dear, not ill. There are large drops of rain falling, and they +made me start. We had better go in.” + +He recovered himself almost instantly. Rain was really falling in large +drops, and he showed the back of his hand with rain-drops on it. But, he +said not a single word in reference to the discovery that had been told +of, and, as they went into the house, the business eye of Mr. Lorry +either detected, or fancied it detected, on his face, as it turned +towards Charles Darnay, the same singular look that had been upon it +when it turned towards him in the passages of the Court House. + +He recovered himself so quickly, however, that Mr. Lorry had doubts of +his business eye. The arm of the golden giant in the hall was not more +steady than he was, when he stopped under it to remark to them that he +was not yet proof against slight surprises (if he ever would be), and +that the rain had startled him. + +Tea-time, and Miss Pross making tea, with another fit of the jerks upon +her, and yet no Hundreds of people. Mr. Carton had lounged in, but he +made only Two. + +The night was so very sultry, that although they sat with doors and +windows open, they were overpowered by heat. When the tea-table was +done with, they all moved to one of the windows, and looked out into the +heavy twilight. Lucie sat by her father; Darnay sat beside her; Carton +leaned against a window. The curtains were long and white, and some of +the thunder-gusts that whirled into the corner, caught them up to the +ceiling, and waved them like spectral wings. + +“The rain-drops are still falling, large, heavy, and few,” said Doctor +Manette. “It comes slowly.” + +“It comes surely,” said Carton. + +They spoke low, as people watching and waiting mostly do; as people in a +dark room, watching and waiting for Lightning, always do. + +There was a great hurry in the streets of people speeding away to +get shelter before the storm broke; the wonderful corner for echoes +resounded with the echoes of footsteps coming and going, yet not a +footstep was there. + +“A multitude of people, and yet a solitude!” said Darnay, when they had +listened for a while. + +“Is it not impressive, Mr. Darnay?” asked Lucie. “Sometimes, I have +sat here of an evening, until I have fancied--but even the shade of +a foolish fancy makes me shudder to-night, when all is so black and +solemn--” + +“Let us shudder too. We may know what it is.” + +“It will seem nothing to you. Such whims are only impressive as we +originate them, I think; they are not to be communicated. I have +sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made +the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming +by-and-bye into our lives.” + +“There is a great crowd coming one day into our lives, if that be so,” + Sydney Carton struck in, in his moody way. + +The footsteps were incessant, and the hurry of them became more and more +rapid. The corner echoed and re-echoed with the tread of feet; some, +as it seemed, under the windows; some, as it seemed, in the room; some +coming, some going, some breaking off, some stopping altogether; all in +the distant streets, and not one within sight. + +“Are all these footsteps destined to come to all of us, Miss Manette, or +are we to divide them among us?” + +“I don't know, Mr. Darnay; I told you it was a foolish fancy, but you +asked for it. When I have yielded myself to it, I have been alone, and +then I have imagined them the footsteps of the people who are to come +into my life, and my father's.” + +“I take them into mine!” said Carton. “_I_ ask no questions and make no +stipulations. There is a great crowd bearing down upon us, Miss Manette, +and I see them--by the Lightning.” He added the last words, after there +had been a vivid flash which had shown him lounging in the window. + +“And I hear them!” he added again, after a peal of thunder. “Here they +come, fast, fierce, and furious!” + +It was the rush and roar of rain that he typified, and it stopped him, +for no voice could be heard in it. A memorable storm of thunder and +lightning broke with that sweep of water, and there was not a moment's +interval in crash, and fire, and rain, until after the moon rose at +midnight. + +The great bell of Saint Paul's was striking one in the cleared air, when +Mr. Lorry, escorted by Jerry, high-booted and bearing a lantern, set +forth on his return-passage to Clerkenwell. There were solitary patches +of road on the way between Soho and Clerkenwell, and Mr. Lorry, mindful +of foot-pads, always retained Jerry for this service: though it was +usually performed a good two hours earlier. + +“What a night it has been! Almost a night, Jerry,” said Mr. Lorry, “to +bring the dead out of their graves.” + +“I never see the night myself, master--nor yet I don't expect to--what +would do that,” answered Jerry. + +“Good night, Mr. Carton,” said the man of business. “Good night, Mr. +Darnay. Shall we ever see such a night again, together!” + +Perhaps. Perhaps, see the great crowd of people with its rush and roar, +bearing down upon them, too. + + + + +VII. Monseigneur in Town + + +Monseigneur, one of the great lords in power at the Court, held his +fortnightly reception in his grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was in +his inner room, his sanctuary of sanctuaries, the Holiest of Holiests to +the crowd of worshippers in the suite of rooms without. Monseigneur +was about to take his chocolate. Monseigneur could swallow a great many +things with ease, and was by some few sullen minds supposed to be rather +rapidly swallowing France; but, his morning's chocolate could not so +much as get into the throat of Monseigneur, without the aid of four +strong men besides the Cook. + +Yes. It took four men, all four ablaze with gorgeous decoration, and the +Chief of them unable to exist with fewer than two gold watches in his +pocket, emulative of the noble and chaste fashion set by Monseigneur, to +conduct the happy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carried +the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed +the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; +a third, presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold +watches), poured the chocolate out. It was impossible for Monseigneur to +dispense with one of these attendants on the chocolate and hold his high +place under the admiring Heavens. Deep would have been the blot upon +his escutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three +men; he must have died of two. + +Monseigneur had been out at a little supper last night, where the Comedy +and the Grand Opera were charmingly represented. Monseigneur was out at +a little supper most nights, with fascinating company. So polite and so +impressible was Monseigneur, that the Comedy and the Grand Opera had far +more influence with him in the tiresome articles of state affairs and +state secrets, than the needs of all France. A happy circumstance +for France, as the like always is for all countries similarly +favoured!--always was for England (by way of example), in the regretted +days of the merry Stuart who sold it. + +Monseigneur had one truly noble idea of general public business, which +was, to let everything go on in its own way; of particular public +business, Monseigneur had the other truly noble idea that it must all go +his way--tend to his own power and pocket. Of his pleasures, general and +particular, Monseigneur had the other truly noble idea, that the world +was made for them. The text of his order (altered from the original +by only a pronoun, which is not much) ran: “The earth and the fulness +thereof are mine, saith Monseigneur.” + +Yet, Monseigneur had slowly found that vulgar embarrassments crept into +his affairs, both private and public; and he had, as to both classes of +affairs, allied himself perforce with a Farmer-General. As to finances +public, because Monseigneur could not make anything at all of them, and +must consequently let them out to somebody who could; as to finances +private, because Farmer-Generals were rich, and Monseigneur, after +generations of great luxury and expense, was growing poor. Hence +Monseigneur had taken his sister from a convent, while there was yet +time to ward off the impending veil, the cheapest garment she could +wear, and had bestowed her as a prize upon a very rich Farmer-General, +poor in family. Which Farmer-General, carrying an appropriate cane with +a golden apple on the top of it, was now among the company in the outer +rooms, much prostrated before by mankind--always excepting superior +mankind of the blood of Monseigneur, who, his own wife included, looked +down upon him with the loftiest contempt. + +A sumptuous man was the Farmer-General. Thirty horses stood in his +stables, twenty-four male domestics sat in his halls, six body-women +waited on his wife. As one who pretended to do nothing but plunder and +forage where he could, the Farmer-General--howsoever his matrimonial +relations conduced to social morality--was at least the greatest reality +among the personages who attended at the hotel of Monseigneur that day. + +For, the rooms, though a beautiful scene to look at, and adorned with +every device of decoration that the taste and skill of the time could +achieve, were, in truth, not a sound business; considered with any +reference to the scarecrows in the rags and nightcaps elsewhere (and not +so far off, either, but that the watching towers of Notre Dame, almost +equidistant from the two extremes, could see them both), they would +have been an exceedingly uncomfortable business--if that could have +been anybody's business, at the house of Monseigneur. Military officers +destitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship; +civil officers without a notion of affairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of the +worst world worldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, and looser lives; +all totally unfit for their several callings, all lying horribly in +pretending to belong to them, but all nearly or remotely of the order of +Monseigneur, and therefore foisted on all public employments from which +anything was to be got; these were to be told off by the score and the +score. People not immediately connected with Monseigneur or the State, +yet equally unconnected with anything that was real, or with lives +passed in travelling by any straight road to any true earthly end, were +no less abundant. Doctors who made great fortunes out of dainty remedies +for imaginary disorders that never existed, smiled upon their courtly +patients in the ante-chambers of Monseigneur. Projectors who had +discovered every kind of remedy for the little evils with which the +State was touched, except the remedy of setting to work in earnest to +root out a single sin, poured their distracting babble into any ears +they could lay hold of, at the reception of Monseigneur. Unbelieving +Philosophers who were remodelling the world with words, and making +card-towers of Babel to scale the skies with, talked with Unbelieving +Chemists who had an eye on the transmutation of metals, at this +wonderful gathering accumulated by Monseigneur. Exquisite gentlemen of +the finest breeding, which was at that remarkable time--and has been +since--to be known by its fruits of indifference to every natural +subject of human interest, were in the most exemplary state of +exhaustion, at the hotel of Monseigneur. Such homes had these various +notabilities left behind them in the fine world of Paris, that the spies +among the assembled devotees of Monseigneur--forming a goodly half +of the polite company--would have found it hard to discover among +the angels of that sphere one solitary wife, who, in her manners and +appearance, owned to being a Mother. Indeed, except for the mere act of +bringing a troublesome creature into this world--which does not go far +towards the realisation of the name of mother--there was no such thing +known to the fashion. Peasant women kept the unfashionable babies close, +and brought them up, and charming grandmammas of sixty dressed and +supped as at twenty. + +The leprosy of unreality disfigured every human creature in attendance +upon Monseigneur. In the outermost room were half a dozen exceptional +people who had had, for a few years, some vague misgiving in them that +things in general were going rather wrong. As a promising way of setting +them right, half of the half-dozen had become members of a fantastic +sect of Convulsionists, and were even then considering within themselves +whether they should foam, rage, roar, and turn cataleptic on the +spot--thereby setting up a highly intelligible finger-post to the +Future, for Monseigneur's guidance. Besides these Dervishes, were other +three who had rushed into another sect, which mended matters with a +jargon about “the Centre of Truth:” holding that Man had got out of the +Centre of Truth--which did not need much demonstration--but had not got +out of the Circumference, and that he was to be kept from flying out of +the Circumference, and was even to be shoved back into the Centre, +by fasting and seeing of spirits. Among these, accordingly, much +discoursing with spirits went on--and it did a world of good which never +became manifest. + +But, the comfort was, that all the company at the grand hotel of +Monseigneur were perfectly dressed. If the Day of Judgment had only been +ascertained to be a dress day, everybody there would have been eternally +correct. Such frizzling and powdering and sticking up of hair, such +delicate complexions artificially preserved and mended, such gallant +swords to look at, and such delicate honour to the sense of smell, would +surely keep anything going, for ever and ever. The exquisite gentlemen +of the finest breeding wore little pendent trinkets that chinked as they +languidly moved; these golden fetters rang like precious little bells; +and what with that ringing, and with the rustle of silk and brocade and +fine linen, there was a flutter in the air that fanned Saint Antoine and +his devouring hunger far away. + +Dress was the one unfailing talisman and charm used for keeping all +things in their places. Everybody was dressed for a Fancy Ball that +was never to leave off. From the Palace of the Tuileries, through +Monseigneur and the whole Court, through the Chambers, the Tribunals +of Justice, and all society (except the scarecrows), the Fancy Ball +descended to the Common Executioner: who, in pursuance of the charm, was +required to officiate “frizzled, powdered, in a gold-laced coat, pumps, +and white silk stockings.” At the gallows and the wheel--the axe was a +rarity--Monsieur Paris, as it was the episcopal mode among his brother +Professors of the provinces, Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, to call +him, presided in this dainty dress. And who among the company at +Monseigneur's reception in that seventeen hundred and eightieth year +of our Lord, could possibly doubt, that a system rooted in a frizzled +hangman, powdered, gold-laced, pumped, and white-silk stockinged, would +see the very stars out! + +Monseigneur having eased his four men of their burdens and taken his +chocolate, caused the doors of the Holiest of Holiests to be thrown +open, and issued forth. Then, what submission, what cringing and +fawning, what servility, what abject humiliation! As to bowing down in +body and spirit, nothing in that way was left for Heaven--which may have +been one among other reasons why the worshippers of Monseigneur never +troubled it. + +Bestowing a word of promise here and a smile there, a whisper on one +happy slave and a wave of the hand on another, Monseigneur affably +passed through his rooms to the remote region of the Circumference of +Truth. There, Monseigneur turned, and came back again, and so in due +course of time got himself shut up in his sanctuary by the chocolate +sprites, and was seen no more. + +The show being over, the flutter in the air became quite a little storm, +and the precious little bells went ringing downstairs. There was soon +but one person left of all the crowd, and he, with his hat under his arm +and his snuff-box in his hand, slowly passed among the mirrors on his +way out. + +“I devote you,” said this person, stopping at the last door on his way, +and turning in the direction of the sanctuary, “to the Devil!” + +With that, he shook the snuff from his fingers as if he had shaken the +dust from his feet, and quietly walked downstairs. + +He was a man of about sixty, handsomely dressed, haughty in manner, and +with a face like a fine mask. A face of a transparent paleness; every +feature in it clearly defined; one set expression on it. The nose, +beautifully formed otherwise, was very slightly pinched at the top +of each nostril. In those two compressions, or dints, the only little +change that the face ever showed, resided. They persisted in changing +colour sometimes, and they would be occasionally dilated and contracted +by something like a faint pulsation; then, they gave a look of +treachery, and cruelty, to the whole countenance. Examined with +attention, its capacity of helping such a look was to be found in the +line of the mouth, and the lines of the orbits of the eyes, being much +too horizontal and thin; still, in the effect of the face made, it was a +handsome face, and a remarkable one. + +Its owner went downstairs into the courtyard, got into his carriage, and +drove away. Not many people had talked with him at the reception; he had +stood in a little space apart, and Monseigneur might have been warmer +in his manner. It appeared, under the circumstances, rather agreeable +to him to see the common people dispersed before his horses, and +often barely escaping from being run down. His man drove as if he were +charging an enemy, and the furious recklessness of the man brought no +check into the face, or to the lips, of the master. The complaint had +sometimes made itself audible, even in that deaf city and dumb age, +that, in the narrow streets without footways, the fierce patrician +custom of hard driving endangered and maimed the mere vulgar in a +barbarous manner. But, few cared enough for that to think of it a second +time, and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretches were +left to get out of their difficulties as they could. + +With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of +consideration not easy to be understood in these days, the carriage +dashed through streets and swept round corners, with women screaming +before it, and men clutching each other and clutching children out of +its way. At last, swooping at a street corner by a fountain, one of its +wheels came to a sickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a +number of voices, and the horses reared and plunged. + +But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably would not have +stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, and leave their wounded +behind, and why not? But the frightened valet had got down in a hurry, +and there were twenty hands at the horses' bridles. + +“What has gone wrong?” said Monsieur, calmly looking out. + +A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from among the feet of +the horses, and had laid it on the basement of the fountain, and was +down in the mud and wet, howling over it like a wild animal. + +“Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!” said a ragged and submissive man, “it is +a child.” + +“Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his child?” + +“Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis--it is a pity--yes.” + +The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened, where it was, +into a space some ten or twelve yards square. As the tall man suddenly +got up from the ground, and came running at the carriage, Monsieur the +Marquis clapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt. + +“Killed!” shrieked the man, in wild desperation, extending both arms at +their length above his head, and staring at him. “Dead!” + +The people closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis. There was +nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at him but watchfulness +and eagerness; there was no visible menacing or anger. Neither did the +people say anything; after the first cry, they had been silent, and they +remained so. The voice of the submissive man who had spoken, was flat +and tame in its extreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes +over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their holes. + +He took out his purse. + +“It is extraordinary to me,” said he, “that you people cannot take care +of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you is for ever in +the way. How do I know what injury you have done my horses. See! Give +him that.” + +He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads +craned forward that all the eyes might look down at it as it fell. The +tall man called out again with a most unearthly cry, “Dead!” + +He was arrested by the quick arrival of another man, for whom the rest +made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fell upon his shoulder, +sobbing and crying, and pointing to the fountain, where some women were +stooping over the motionless bundle, and moving gently about it. They +were as silent, however, as the men. + +“I know all, I know all,” said the last comer. “Be a brave man, my +Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than to +live. It has died in a moment without pain. Could it have lived an hour +as happily?” + +“You are a philosopher, you there,” said the Marquis, smiling. “How do +they call you?” + +“They call me Defarge.” + +“Of what trade?” + +“Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine.” + +“Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of wine,” said the Marquis, +throwing him another gold coin, “and spend it as you will. The horses +there; are they right?” + +Without deigning to look at the assemblage a second time, Monsieur the +Marquis leaned back in his seat, and was just being driven away with the +air of a gentleman who had accidentally broke some common thing, and had +paid for it, and could afford to pay for it; when his ease was suddenly +disturbed by a coin flying into his carriage, and ringing on its floor. + +“Hold!” said Monsieur the Marquis. “Hold the horses! Who threw that?” + +He looked to the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine had stood, a +moment before; but the wretched father was grovelling on his face on +the pavement in that spot, and the figure that stood beside him was the +figure of a dark stout woman, knitting. + +“You dogs!” said the Marquis, but smoothly, and with an unchanged front, +except as to the spots on his nose: “I would ride over any of you very +willingly, and exterminate you from the earth. If I knew which rascal +threw at the carriage, and if that brigand were sufficiently near it, he +should be crushed under the wheels.” + +So cowed was their condition, and so long and hard their experience of +what such a man could do to them, within the law and beyond it, that not +a voice, or a hand, or even an eye was raised. Among the men, not one. +But the woman who stood knitting looked up steadily, and looked the +Marquis in the face. It was not for his dignity to notice it; his +contemptuous eyes passed over her, and over all the other rats; and he +leaned back in his seat again, and gave the word “Go on!” + +He was driven on, and other carriages came whirling by in quick +succession; the Minister, the State-Projector, the Farmer-General, the +Doctor, the Lawyer, the Ecclesiastic, the Grand Opera, the Comedy, the +whole Fancy Ball in a bright continuous flow, came whirling by. The rats +had crept out of their holes to look on, and they remained looking +on for hours; soldiers and police often passing between them and the +spectacle, and making a barrier behind which they slunk, and through +which they peeped. The father had long ago taken up his bundle and +bidden himself away with it, when the women who had tended the bundle +while it lay on the base of the fountain, sat there watching the running +of the water and the rolling of the Fancy Ball--when the one woman who +had stood conspicuous, knitting, still knitted on with the steadfastness +of Fate. The water of the fountain ran, the swift river ran, the day ran +into evening, so much life in the city ran into death according to rule, +time and tide waited for no man, the rats were sleeping close together +in their dark holes again, the Fancy Ball was lighted up at supper, all +things ran their course. + + + + +VIII. Monseigneur in the Country + + +A beautiful landscape, with the corn bright in it, but not abundant. +Patches of poor rye where corn should have been, patches of poor peas +and beans, patches of most coarse vegetable substitutes for wheat. On +inanimate nature, as on the men and women who cultivated it, a prevalent +tendency towards an appearance of vegetating unwillingly--a dejected +disposition to give up, and wither away. + +Monsieur the Marquis in his travelling carriage (which might have been +lighter), conducted by four post-horses and two postilions, fagged up +a steep hill. A blush on the countenance of Monsieur the Marquis was +no impeachment of his high breeding; it was not from within; it was +occasioned by an external circumstance beyond his control--the setting +sun. + +The sunset struck so brilliantly into the travelling carriage when it +gained the hill-top, that its occupant was steeped in crimson. “It will +die out,” said Monsieur the Marquis, glancing at his hands, “directly.” + +In effect, the sun was so low that it dipped at the moment. When the +heavy drag had been adjusted to the wheel, and the carriage slid down +hill, with a cinderous smell, in a cloud of dust, the red glow departed +quickly; the sun and the Marquis going down together, there was no glow +left when the drag was taken off. + +But, there remained a broken country, bold and open, a little village +at the bottom of the hill, a broad sweep and rise beyond it, a +church-tower, a windmill, a forest for the chase, and a crag with a +fortress on it used as a prison. Round upon all these darkening objects +as the night drew on, the Marquis looked, with the air of one who was +coming near home. + +The village had its one poor street, with its poor brewery, poor +tannery, poor tavern, poor stable-yard for relays of post-horses, poor +fountain, all usual poor appointments. It had its poor people too. All +its people were poor, and many of them were sitting at their doors, +shredding spare onions and the like for supper, while many were at the +fountain, washing leaves, and grasses, and any such small yieldings of +the earth that could be eaten. Expressive signs of what made them poor, +were not wanting; the tax for the state, the tax for the church, the tax +for the lord, tax local and tax general, were to be paid here and to be +paid there, according to solemn inscription in the little village, until +the wonder was, that there was any village left unswallowed. + +Few children were to be seen, and no dogs. As to the men and women, +their choice on earth was stated in the prospect--Life on the lowest +terms that could sustain it, down in the little village under the mill; +or captivity and Death in the dominant prison on the crag. + +Heralded by a courier in advance, and by the cracking of his postilions' +whips, which twined snake-like about their heads in the evening air, as +if he came attended by the Furies, Monsieur the Marquis drew up in +his travelling carriage at the posting-house gate. It was hard by the +fountain, and the peasants suspended their operations to look at him. +He looked at them, and saw in them, without knowing it, the slow +sure filing down of misery-worn face and figure, that was to make the +meagreness of Frenchmen an English superstition which should survive the +truth through the best part of a hundred years. + +Monsieur the Marquis cast his eyes over the submissive faces that +drooped before him, as the like of himself had drooped before +Monseigneur of the Court--only the difference was, that these faces +drooped merely to suffer and not to propitiate--when a grizzled mender +of the roads joined the group. + +“Bring me hither that fellow!” said the Marquis to the courier. + +The fellow was brought, cap in hand, and the other fellows closed round +to look and listen, in the manner of the people at the Paris fountain. + +“I passed you on the road?” + +“Monseigneur, it is true. I had the honour of being passed on the road.” + +“Coming up the hill, and at the top of the hill, both?” + +“Monseigneur, it is true.” + +“What did you look at, so fixedly?” + +“Monseigneur, I looked at the man.” + +He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the +carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage. + +“What man, pig? And why look there?” + +“Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the chain of the shoe--the drag.” + +“Who?” demanded the traveller. + +“Monseigneur, the man.” + +“May the Devil carry away these idiots! How do you call the man? You +know all the men of this part of the country. Who was he?” + +“Your clemency, Monseigneur! He was not of this part of the country. Of +all the days of my life, I never saw him.” + +“Swinging by the chain? To be suffocated?” + +“With your gracious permission, that was the wonder of it, Monseigneur. +His head hanging over--like this!” + +He turned himself sideways to the carriage, and leaned back, with his +face thrown up to the sky, and his head hanging down; then recovered +himself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow. + +“What was he like?” + +“Monseigneur, he was whiter than the miller. All covered with dust, +white as a spectre, tall as a spectre!” + +The picture produced an immense sensation in the little crowd; but all +eyes, without comparing notes with other eyes, looked at Monsieur +the Marquis. Perhaps, to observe whether he had any spectre on his +conscience. + +“Truly, you did well,” said the Marquis, felicitously sensible that such +vermin were not to ruffle him, “to see a thief accompanying my carriage, +and not open that great mouth of yours. Bah! Put him aside, Monsieur +Gabelle!” + +Monsieur Gabelle was the Postmaster, and some other taxing functionary +united; he had come out with great obsequiousness to assist at this +examination, and had held the examined by the drapery of his arm in an +official manner. + +“Bah! Go aside!” said Monsieur Gabelle. + +“Lay hands on this stranger if he seeks to lodge in your village +to-night, and be sure that his business is honest, Gabelle.” + +“Monseigneur, I am flattered to devote myself to your orders.” + +“Did he run away, fellow?--where is that Accursed?” + +The accursed was already under the carriage with some half-dozen +particular friends, pointing out the chain with his blue cap. Some +half-dozen other particular friends promptly hauled him out, and +presented him breathless to Monsieur the Marquis. + +“Did the man run away, Dolt, when we stopped for the drag?” + +“Monseigneur, he precipitated himself over the hill-side, head first, as +a person plunges into the river.” + +“See to it, Gabelle. Go on!” + +The half-dozen who were peering at the chain were still among the +wheels, like sheep; the wheels turned so suddenly that they were lucky +to save their skins and bones; they had very little else to save, or +they might not have been so fortunate. + +The burst with which the carriage started out of the village and up the +rise beyond, was soon checked by the steepness of the hill. Gradually, +it subsided to a foot pace, swinging and lumbering upward among the many +sweet scents of a summer night. The postilions, with a thousand gossamer +gnats circling about them in lieu of the Furies, quietly mended the +points to the lashes of their whips; the valet walked by the horses; the +courier was audible, trotting on ahead into the dull distance. + +At the steepest point of the hill there was a little burial-ground, +with a Cross and a new large figure of Our Saviour on it; it was a poor +figure in wood, done by some inexperienced rustic carver, but he had +studied the figure from the life--his own life, maybe--for it was +dreadfully spare and thin. + +To this distressful emblem of a great distress that had long been +growing worse, and was not at its worst, a woman was kneeling. She +turned her head as the carriage came up to her, rose quickly, and +presented herself at the carriage-door. + +“It is you, Monseigneur! Monseigneur, a petition.” + +With an exclamation of impatience, but with his unchangeable face, +Monseigneur looked out. + +“How, then! What is it? Always petitions!” + +“Monseigneur. For the love of the great God! My husband, the forester.” + +“What of your husband, the forester? Always the same with you people. He +cannot pay something?” + +“He has paid all, Monseigneur. He is dead.” + +“Well! He is quiet. Can I restore him to you?” + +“Alas, no, Monseigneur! But he lies yonder, under a little heap of poor +grass.” + +“Well?” + +“Monseigneur, there are so many little heaps of poor grass?” + +“Again, well?” + +She looked an old woman, but was young. Her manner was one of passionate +grief; by turns she clasped her veinous and knotted hands together +with wild energy, and laid one of them on the carriage-door--tenderly, +caressingly, as if it had been a human breast, and could be expected to +feel the appealing touch. + +“Monseigneur, hear me! Monseigneur, hear my petition! My husband died of +want; so many die of want; so many more will die of want.” + +“Again, well? Can I feed them?” + +“Monseigneur, the good God knows; but I don't ask it. My petition is, +that a morsel of stone or wood, with my husband's name, may be placed +over him to show where he lies. Otherwise, the place will be quickly +forgotten, it will never be found when I am dead of the same malady, I +shall be laid under some other heap of poor grass. Monseigneur, they +are so many, they increase so fast, there is so much want. Monseigneur! +Monseigneur!” + +The valet had put her away from the door, the carriage had broken into +a brisk trot, the postilions had quickened the pace, she was left far +behind, and Monseigneur, again escorted by the Furies, was rapidly +diminishing the league or two of distance that remained between him and +his chateau. + +The sweet scents of the summer night rose all around him, and rose, as +the rain falls, impartially, on the dusty, ragged, and toil-worn group +at the fountain not far away; to whom the mender of roads, with the aid +of the blue cap without which he was nothing, still enlarged upon his +man like a spectre, as long as they could bear it. By degrees, as they +could bear no more, they dropped off one by one, and lights twinkled +in little casements; which lights, as the casements darkened, and more +stars came out, seemed to have shot up into the sky instead of having +been extinguished. + +The shadow of a large high-roofed house, and of many over-hanging trees, +was upon Monsieur the Marquis by that time; and the shadow was exchanged +for the light of a flambeau, as his carriage stopped, and the great door +of his chateau was opened to him. + +“Monsieur Charles, whom I expect; is he arrived from England?” + +“Monseigneur, not yet.” + + + + +IX. The Gorgon's Head + + +It was a heavy mass of building, that chateau of Monsieur the Marquis, +with a large stone courtyard before it, and two stone sweeps of +staircase meeting in a stone terrace before the principal door. A stony +business altogether, with heavy stone balustrades, and stone urns, and +stone flowers, and stone faces of men, and stone heads of lions, in +all directions. As if the Gorgon's head had surveyed it, when it was +finished, two centuries ago. + +Up the broad flight of shallow steps, Monsieur the Marquis, flambeau +preceded, went from his carriage, sufficiently disturbing the darkness +to elicit loud remonstrance from an owl in the roof of the great pile +of stable building away among the trees. All else was so quiet, that the +flambeau carried up the steps, and the other flambeau held at the great +door, burnt as if they were in a close room of state, instead of being +in the open night-air. Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, +save the falling of a fountain into its stone basin; for, it was one of +those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together, and then +heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again. + +The great door clanged behind him, and Monsieur the Marquis crossed a +hall grim with certain old boar-spears, swords, and knives of the chase; +grimmer with certain heavy riding-rods and riding-whips, of which many a +peasant, gone to his benefactor Death, had felt the weight when his lord +was angry. + +Avoiding the larger rooms, which were dark and made fast for the night, +Monsieur the Marquis, with his flambeau-bearer going on before, went up +the staircase to a door in a corridor. This thrown open, admitted him +to his own private apartment of three rooms: his bed-chamber and two +others. High vaulted rooms with cool uncarpeted floors, great dogs upon +the hearths for the burning of wood in winter time, and all luxuries +befitting the state of a marquis in a luxurious age and country. +The fashion of the last Louis but one, of the line that was never to +break--the fourteenth Louis--was conspicuous in their rich furniture; +but, it was diversified by many objects that were illustrations of old +pages in the history of France. + +A supper-table was laid for two, in the third of the rooms; a round +room, in one of the chateau's four extinguisher-topped towers. A small +lofty room, with its window wide open, and the wooden jalousie-blinds +closed, so that the dark night only showed in slight horizontal lines of +black, alternating with their broad lines of stone colour. + +“My nephew,” said the Marquis, glancing at the supper preparation; “they +said he was not arrived.” + +Nor was he; but, he had been expected with Monseigneur. + +“Ah! It is not probable he will arrive to-night; nevertheless, leave the +table as it is. I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour.” + +In a quarter of an hour Monseigneur was ready, and sat down alone to his +sumptuous and choice supper. His chair was opposite to the window, and +he had taken his soup, and was raising his glass of Bordeaux to his +lips, when he put it down. + +“What is that?” he calmly asked, looking with attention at the +horizontal lines of black and stone colour. + +“Monseigneur? That?” + +“Outside the blinds. Open the blinds.” + +It was done. + +“Well?” + +“Monseigneur, it is nothing. The trees and the night are all that are +here.” + +The servant who spoke, had thrown the blinds wide, had looked out into +the vacant darkness, and stood with that blank behind him, looking round +for instructions. + +“Good,” said the imperturbable master. “Close them again.” + +That was done too, and the Marquis went on with his supper. He was +half way through it, when he again stopped with his glass in his hand, +hearing the sound of wheels. It came on briskly, and came up to the +front of the chateau. + +“Ask who is arrived.” + +It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had been some few leagues behind +Monseigneur, early in the afternoon. He had diminished the distance +rapidly, but not so rapidly as to come up with Monseigneur on the road. +He had heard of Monseigneur, at the posting-houses, as being before him. + +He was to be told (said Monseigneur) that supper awaited him then and +there, and that he was prayed to come to it. In a little while he came. +He had been known in England as Charles Darnay. + +Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner, but they did not shake +hands. + +“You left Paris yesterday, sir?” he said to Monseigneur, as he took his +seat at table. + +“Yesterday. And you?” + +“I come direct.” + +“From London?” + +“Yes.” + +“You have been a long time coming,” said the Marquis, with a smile. + +“On the contrary; I come direct.” + +“Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the journey; a long time +intending the journey.” + +“I have been detained by”--the nephew stopped a moment in his +answer--“various business.” + +“Without doubt,” said the polished uncle. + +So long as a servant was present, no other words passed between them. +When coffee had been served and they were alone together, the nephew, +looking at the uncle and meeting the eyes of the face that was like a +fine mask, opened a conversation. + +“I have come back, sir, as you anticipate, pursuing the object that +took me away. It carried me into great and unexpected peril; but it is +a sacred object, and if it had carried me to death I hope it would have +sustained me.” + +“Not to death,” said the uncle; “it is not necessary to say, to death.” + +“I doubt, sir,” returned the nephew, “whether, if it had carried me to +the utmost brink of death, you would have cared to stop me there.” + +The deepened marks in the nose, and the lengthening of the fine straight +lines in the cruel face, looked ominous as to that; the uncle made a +graceful gesture of protest, which was so clearly a slight form of good +breeding that it was not reassuring. + +“Indeed, sir,” pursued the nephew, “for anything I know, you may have +expressly worked to give a more suspicious appearance to the suspicious +circumstances that surrounded me.” + +“No, no, no,” said the uncle, pleasantly. + +“But, however that may be,” resumed the nephew, glancing at him with +deep distrust, “I know that your diplomacy would stop me by any means, +and would know no scruple as to means.” + +“My friend, I told you so,” said the uncle, with a fine pulsation in the +two marks. “Do me the favour to recall that I told you so, long ago.” + +“I recall it.” + +“Thank you,” said the Marquis--very sweetly indeed. + +His tone lingered in the air, almost like the tone of a musical +instrument. + +“In effect, sir,” pursued the nephew, “I believe it to be at once your +bad fortune, and my good fortune, that has kept me out of a prison in +France here.” + +“I do not quite understand,” returned the uncle, sipping his coffee. +“Dare I ask you to explain?” + +“I believe that if you were not in disgrace with the Court, and had not +been overshadowed by that cloud for years past, a letter de cachet would +have sent me to some fortress indefinitely.” + +“It is possible,” said the uncle, with great calmness. “For the honour +of the family, I could even resolve to incommode you to that extent. +Pray excuse me!” + +“I perceive that, happily for me, the Reception of the day before +yesterday was, as usual, a cold one,” observed the nephew. + +“I would not say happily, my friend,” returned the uncle, with refined +politeness; “I would not be sure of that. A good opportunity for +consideration, surrounded by the advantages of solitude, might influence +your destiny to far greater advantage than you influence it for +yourself. But it is useless to discuss the question. I am, as you say, +at a disadvantage. These little instruments of correction, these gentle +aids to the power and honour of families, these slight favours that +might so incommode you, are only to be obtained now by interest +and importunity. They are sought by so many, and they are granted +(comparatively) to so few! It used not to be so, but France in all such +things is changed for the worse. Our not remote ancestors held the right +of life and death over the surrounding vulgar. From this room, many such +dogs have been taken out to be hanged; in the next room (my bedroom), +one fellow, to our knowledge, was poniarded on the spot for professing +some insolent delicacy respecting his daughter--_his_ daughter? We have +lost many privileges; a new philosophy has become the mode; and the +assertion of our station, in these days, might (I do not go so far as +to say would, but might) cause us real inconvenience. All very bad, very +bad!” + +The Marquis took a gentle little pinch of snuff, and shook his head; +as elegantly despondent as he could becomingly be of a country still +containing himself, that great means of regeneration. + +“We have so asserted our station, both in the old time and in the modern +time also,” said the nephew, gloomily, “that I believe our name to be +more detested than any name in France.” + +“Let us hope so,” said the uncle. “Detestation of the high is the +involuntary homage of the low.” + +“There is not,” pursued the nephew, in his former tone, “a face I can +look at, in all this country round about us, which looks at me with any +deference on it but the dark deference of fear and slavery.” + +“A compliment,” said the Marquis, “to the grandeur of the family, +merited by the manner in which the family has sustained its grandeur. +Hah!” And he took another gentle little pinch of snuff, and lightly +crossed his legs. + +But, when his nephew, leaning an elbow on the table, covered his eyes +thoughtfully and dejectedly with his hand, the fine mask looked at +him sideways with a stronger concentration of keenness, closeness, +and dislike, than was comportable with its wearer's assumption of +indifference. + +“Repression is the only lasting philosophy. The dark deference of fear +and slavery, my friend,” observed the Marquis, “will keep the dogs +obedient to the whip, as long as this roof,” looking up to it, “shuts +out the sky.” + +That might not be so long as the Marquis supposed. If a picture of the +chateau as it was to be a very few years hence, and of fifty like it as +they too were to be a very few years hence, could have been shown to +him that night, he might have been at a loss to claim his own from +the ghastly, fire-charred, plunder-wrecked rains. As for the roof +he vaunted, he might have found _that_ shutting out the sky in a new +way--to wit, for ever, from the eyes of the bodies into which its lead +was fired, out of the barrels of a hundred thousand muskets. + +“Meanwhile,” said the Marquis, “I will preserve the honour and repose +of the family, if you will not. But you must be fatigued. Shall we +terminate our conference for the night?” + +“A moment more.” + +“An hour, if you please.” + +“Sir,” said the nephew, “we have done wrong, and are reaping the fruits +of wrong.” + +“_We_ have done wrong?” repeated the Marquis, with an inquiring smile, +and delicately pointing, first to his nephew, then to himself. + +“Our family; our honourable family, whose honour is of so much account +to both of us, in such different ways. Even in my father's time, we did +a world of wrong, injuring every human creature who came between us and +our pleasure, whatever it was. Why need I speak of my father's time, +when it is equally yours? Can I separate my father's twin-brother, joint +inheritor, and next successor, from himself?” + +“Death has done that!” said the Marquis. + +“And has left me,” answered the nephew, “bound to a system that is +frightful to me, responsible for it, but powerless in it; seeking to +execute the last request of my dear mother's lips, and obey the last +look of my dear mother's eyes, which implored me to have mercy and to +redress; and tortured by seeking assistance and power in vain.” + +“Seeking them from me, my nephew,” said the Marquis, touching him on the +breast with his forefinger--they were now standing by the hearth--“you +will for ever seek them in vain, be assured.” + +Every fine straight line in the clear whiteness of his face, was +cruelly, craftily, and closely compressed, while he stood looking +quietly at his nephew, with his snuff-box in his hand. Once again he +touched him on the breast, as though his finger were the fine point of +a small sword, with which, in delicate finesse, he ran him through the +body, and said, + +“My friend, I will die, perpetuating the system under which I have +lived.” + +When he had said it, he took a culminating pinch of snuff, and put his +box in his pocket. + +“Better to be a rational creature,” he added then, after ringing a small +bell on the table, “and accept your natural destiny. But you are lost, +Monsieur Charles, I see.” + +“This property and France are lost to me,” said the nephew, sadly; “I +renounce them.” + +“Are they both yours to renounce? France may be, but is the property? It +is scarcely worth mentioning; but, is it yet?” + +“I had no intention, in the words I used, to claim it yet. If it passed +to me from you, to-morrow--” + +“Which I have the vanity to hope is not probable.” + +“--or twenty years hence--” + +“You do me too much honour,” said the Marquis; “still, I prefer that +supposition.” + +“--I would abandon it, and live otherwise and elsewhere. It is little to +relinquish. What is it but a wilderness of misery and ruin!” + +“Hah!” said the Marquis, glancing round the luxurious room. + +“To the eye it is fair enough, here; but seen in its integrity, +under the sky, and by the daylight, it is a crumbling tower of waste, +mismanagement, extortion, debt, mortgage, oppression, hunger, nakedness, +and suffering.” + +“Hah!” said the Marquis again, in a well-satisfied manner. + +“If it ever becomes mine, it shall be put into some hands better +qualified to free it slowly (if such a thing is possible) from the +weight that drags it down, so that the miserable people who cannot leave +it and who have been long wrung to the last point of endurance, may, in +another generation, suffer less; but it is not for me. There is a curse +on it, and on all this land.” + +“And you?” said the uncle. “Forgive my curiosity; do you, under your new +philosophy, graciously intend to live?” + +“I must do, to live, what others of my countrymen, even with nobility at +their backs, may have to do some day--work.” + +“In England, for example?” + +“Yes. The family honour, sir, is safe from me in this country. The +family name can suffer from me in no other, for I bear it in no other.” + +The ringing of the bell had caused the adjoining bed-chamber to be +lighted. It now shone brightly, through the door of communication. The +Marquis looked that way, and listened for the retreating step of his +valet. + +“England is very attractive to you, seeing how indifferently you have +prospered there,” he observed then, turning his calm face to his nephew +with a smile. + +“I have already said, that for my prospering there, I am sensible I may +be indebted to you, sir. For the rest, it is my Refuge.” + +“They say, those boastful English, that it is the Refuge of many. You +know a compatriot who has found a Refuge there? A Doctor?” + +“Yes.” + +“With a daughter?” + +“Yes.” + +“Yes,” said the Marquis. “You are fatigued. Good night!” + +As he bent his head in his most courtly manner, there was a secrecy +in his smiling face, and he conveyed an air of mystery to those words, +which struck the eyes and ears of his nephew forcibly. At the same +time, the thin straight lines of the setting of the eyes, and the thin +straight lips, and the markings in the nose, curved with a sarcasm that +looked handsomely diabolic. + +“Yes,” repeated the Marquis. “A Doctor with a daughter. Yes. So +commences the new philosophy! You are fatigued. Good night!” + +It would have been of as much avail to interrogate any stone face +outside the chateau as to interrogate that face of his. The nephew +looked at him, in vain, in passing on to the door. + +“Good night!” said the uncle. “I look to the pleasure of seeing you +again in the morning. Good repose! Light Monsieur my nephew to his +chamber there!--And burn Monsieur my nephew in his bed, if you will,” he +added to himself, before he rang his little bell again, and summoned his +valet to his own bedroom. + +The valet come and gone, Monsieur the Marquis walked to and fro in his +loose chamber-robe, to prepare himself gently for sleep, that hot still +night. Rustling about the room, his softly-slippered feet making no +noise on the floor, he moved like a refined tiger:--looked like some +enchanted marquis of the impenitently wicked sort, in story, whose +periodical change into tiger form was either just going off, or just +coming on. + +He moved from end to end of his voluptuous bedroom, looking again at the +scraps of the day's journey that came unbidden into his mind; the slow +toil up the hill at sunset, the setting sun, the descent, the mill, the +prison on the crag, the little village in the hollow, the peasants at +the fountain, and the mender of roads with his blue cap pointing out the +chain under the carriage. That fountain suggested the Paris fountain, +the little bundle lying on the step, the women bending over it, and the +tall man with his arms up, crying, “Dead!” + +“I am cool now,” said Monsieur the Marquis, “and may go to bed.” + +So, leaving only one light burning on the large hearth, he let his thin +gauze curtains fall around him, and heard the night break its silence +with a long sigh as he composed himself to sleep. + +The stone faces on the outer walls stared blindly at the black night +for three heavy hours; for three heavy hours, the horses in the stables +rattled at their racks, the dogs barked, and the owl made a noise with +very little resemblance in it to the noise conventionally assigned to +the owl by men-poets. But it is the obstinate custom of such creatures +hardly ever to say what is set down for them. + +For three heavy hours, the stone faces of the chateau, lion and human, +stared blindly at the night. Dead darkness lay on all the landscape, +dead darkness added its own hush to the hushing dust on all the roads. +The burial-place had got to the pass that its little heaps of poor grass +were undistinguishable from one another; the figure on the Cross might +have come down, for anything that could be seen of it. In the village, +taxers and taxed were fast asleep. Dreaming, perhaps, of banquets, as +the starved usually do, and of ease and rest, as the driven slave and +the yoked ox may, its lean inhabitants slept soundly, and were fed and +freed. + +The fountain in the village flowed unseen and unheard, and the fountain +at the chateau dropped unseen and unheard--both melting away, like the +minutes that were falling from the spring of Time--through three dark +hours. Then, the grey water of both began to be ghostly in the light, +and the eyes of the stone faces of the chateau were opened. + +Lighter and lighter, until at last the sun touched the tops of the still +trees, and poured its radiance over the hill. In the glow, the water +of the chateau fountain seemed to turn to blood, and the stone faces +crimsoned. The carol of the birds was loud and high, and, on the +weather-beaten sill of the great window of the bed-chamber of Monsieur +the Marquis, one little bird sang its sweetest song with all its might. +At this, the nearest stone face seemed to stare amazed, and, with open +mouth and dropped under-jaw, looked awe-stricken. + +Now, the sun was full up, and movement began in the village. Casement +windows opened, crazy doors were unbarred, and people came forth +shivering--chilled, as yet, by the new sweet air. Then began the rarely +lightened toil of the day among the village population. Some, to the +fountain; some, to the fields; men and women here, to dig and delve; men +and women there, to see to the poor live stock, and lead the bony cows +out, to such pasture as could be found by the roadside. In the church +and at the Cross, a kneeling figure or two; attendant on the latter +prayers, the led cow, trying for a breakfast among the weeds at its +foot. + +The chateau awoke later, as became its quality, but awoke gradually and +surely. First, the lonely boar-spears and knives of the chase had been +reddened as of old; then, had gleamed trenchant in the morning sunshine; +now, doors and windows were thrown open, horses in their stables looked +round over their shoulders at the light and freshness pouring in at +doorways, leaves sparkled and rustled at iron-grated windows, dogs +pulled hard at their chains, and reared impatient to be loosed. + +All these trivial incidents belonged to the routine of life, and the +return of morning. Surely, not so the ringing of the great bell of the +chateau, nor the running up and down the stairs; nor the hurried +figures on the terrace; nor the booting and tramping here and there and +everywhere, nor the quick saddling of horses and riding away? + +What winds conveyed this hurry to the grizzled mender of roads, already +at work on the hill-top beyond the village, with his day's dinner (not +much to carry) lying in a bundle that it was worth no crow's while to +peck at, on a heap of stones? Had the birds, carrying some grains of it +to a distance, dropped one over him as they sow chance seeds? Whether or +no, the mender of roads ran, on the sultry morning, as if for his life, +down the hill, knee-high in dust, and never stopped till he got to the +fountain. + +All the people of the village were at the fountain, standing about +in their depressed manner, and whispering low, but showing no other +emotions than grim curiosity and surprise. The led cows, hastily brought +in and tethered to anything that would hold them, were looking stupidly +on, or lying down chewing the cud of nothing particularly repaying their +trouble, which they had picked up in their interrupted saunter. Some of +the people of the chateau, and some of those of the posting-house, and +all the taxing authorities, were armed more or less, and were crowded +on the other side of the little street in a purposeless way, that was +highly fraught with nothing. Already, the mender of roads had penetrated +into the midst of a group of fifty particular friends, and was smiting +himself in the breast with his blue cap. What did all this portend, +and what portended the swift hoisting-up of Monsieur Gabelle behind +a servant on horseback, and the conveying away of the said Gabelle +(double-laden though the horse was), at a gallop, like a new version of +the German ballad of Leonora? + +It portended that there was one stone face too many, up at the chateau. + +The Gorgon had surveyed the building again in the night, and had added +the one stone face wanting; the stone face for which it had waited +through about two hundred years. + +It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur the Marquis. It was like a fine +mask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified. Driven home into the +heart of the stone figure attached to it, was a knife. Round its hilt +was a frill of paper, on which was scrawled: + +“Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from Jacques.” + + + + +X. Two Promises + + +More months, to the number of twelve, had come and gone, and Mr. Charles +Darnay was established in England as a higher teacher of the French +language who was conversant with French literature. In this age, he +would have been a Professor; in that age, he was a Tutor. He read with +young men who could find any leisure and interest for the study of a +living tongue spoken all over the world, and he cultivated a taste for +its stores of knowledge and fancy. He could write of them, besides, in +sound English, and render them into sound English. Such masters were not +at that time easily found; Princes that had been, and Kings that were +to be, were not yet of the Teacher class, and no ruined nobility had +dropped out of Tellson's ledgers, to turn cooks and carpenters. As a +tutor, whose attainments made the student's way unusually pleasant and +profitable, and as an elegant translator who brought something to his +work besides mere dictionary knowledge, young Mr. Darnay soon became +known and encouraged. He was well acquainted, more-over, with the +circumstances of his country, and those were of ever-growing interest. +So, with great perseverance and untiring industry, he prospered. + +In London, he had expected neither to walk on pavements of gold, nor +to lie on beds of roses; if he had had any such exalted expectation, he +would not have prospered. He had expected labour, and he found it, and +did it and made the best of it. In this, his prosperity consisted. + +A certain portion of his time was passed at Cambridge, where he +read with undergraduates as a sort of tolerated smuggler who drove a +contraband trade in European languages, instead of conveying Greek +and Latin through the Custom-house. The rest of his time he passed in +London. + +Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these days +when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has +invariably gone one way--Charles Darnay's way--the way of the love of a +woman. + +He had loved Lucie Manette from the hour of his danger. He had never +heard a sound so sweet and dear as the sound of her compassionate voice; +he had never seen a face so tenderly beautiful, as hers when it was +confronted with his own on the edge of the grave that had been dug for +him. But, he had not yet spoken to her on the subject; the assassination +at the deserted chateau far away beyond the heaving water and the long, +long, dusty roads--the solid stone chateau which had itself become the +mere mist of a dream--had been done a year, and he had never yet, by so +much as a single spoken word, disclosed to her the state of his heart. + +That he had his reasons for this, he knew full well. It was again a +summer day when, lately arrived in London from his college occupation, +he turned into the quiet corner in Soho, bent on seeking an opportunity +of opening his mind to Doctor Manette. It was the close of the summer +day, and he knew Lucie to be out with Miss Pross. + +He found the Doctor reading in his arm-chair at a window. The energy +which had at once supported him under his old sufferings and aggravated +their sharpness, had been gradually restored to him. He was now a +very energetic man indeed, with great firmness of purpose, strength +of resolution, and vigour of action. In his recovered energy he was +sometimes a little fitful and sudden, as he had at first been in the +exercise of his other recovered faculties; but, this had never been +frequently observable, and had grown more and more rare. + +He studied much, slept little, sustained a great deal of fatigue with +ease, and was equably cheerful. To him, now entered Charles Darnay, at +sight of whom he laid aside his book and held out his hand. + +“Charles Darnay! I rejoice to see you. We have been counting on your +return these three or four days past. Mr. Stryver and Sydney Carton were +both here yesterday, and both made you out to be more than due.” + +“I am obliged to them for their interest in the matter,” he answered, +a little coldly as to them, though very warmly as to the Doctor. “Miss +Manette--” + +“Is well,” said the Doctor, as he stopped short, “and your return will +delight us all. She has gone out on some household matters, but will +soon be home.” + +“Doctor Manette, I knew she was from home. I took the opportunity of her +being from home, to beg to speak to you.” + +There was a blank silence. + +“Yes?” said the Doctor, with evident constraint. “Bring your chair here, +and speak on.” + +He complied as to the chair, but appeared to find the speaking on less +easy. + +“I have had the happiness, Doctor Manette, of being so intimate here,” + so he at length began, “for some year and a half, that I hope the topic +on which I am about to touch may not--” + +He was stayed by the Doctor's putting out his hand to stop him. When he +had kept it so a little while, he said, drawing it back: + +“Is Lucie the topic?” + +“She is.” + +“It is hard for me to speak of her at any time. It is very hard for me +to hear her spoken of in that tone of yours, Charles Darnay.” + +“It is a tone of fervent admiration, true homage, and deep love, Doctor +Manette!” he said deferentially. + +There was another blank silence before her father rejoined: + +“I believe it. I do you justice; I believe it.” + +His constraint was so manifest, and it was so manifest, too, that it +originated in an unwillingness to approach the subject, that Charles +Darnay hesitated. + +“Shall I go on, sir?” + +Another blank. + +“Yes, go on.” + +“You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly +I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my secret heart, and +the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it has long been +laden. Dear Doctor Manette, I love your daughter fondly, dearly, +disinterestedly, devotedly. If ever there were love in the world, I love +her. You have loved yourself; let your old love speak for me!” + +The Doctor sat with his face turned away, and his eyes bent on the +ground. At the last words, he stretched out his hand again, hurriedly, +and cried: + +“Not that, sir! Let that be! I adjure you, do not recall that!” + +His cry was so like a cry of actual pain, that it rang in Charles +Darnay's ears long after he had ceased. He motioned with the hand he had +extended, and it seemed to be an appeal to Darnay to pause. The latter +so received it, and remained silent. + +“I ask your pardon,” said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, after some +moments. “I do not doubt your loving Lucie; you may be satisfied of it.” + +He turned towards him in his chair, but did not look at him, or +raise his eyes. His chin dropped upon his hand, and his white hair +overshadowed his face: + +“Have you spoken to Lucie?” + +“No.” + +“Nor written?” + +“Never.” + +“It would be ungenerous to affect not to know that your self-denial is +to be referred to your consideration for her father. Her father thanks +you.” + +He offered his hand; but his eyes did not go with it. + +“I know,” said Darnay, respectfully, “how can I fail to know, Doctor +Manette, I who have seen you together from day to day, that between +you and Miss Manette there is an affection so unusual, so touching, so +belonging to the circumstances in which it has been nurtured, that it +can have few parallels, even in the tenderness between a father and +child. I know, Doctor Manette--how can I fail to know--that, mingled +with the affection and duty of a daughter who has become a woman, there +is, in her heart, towards you, all the love and reliance of infancy +itself. I know that, as in her childhood she had no parent, so she is +now devoted to you with all the constancy and fervour of her present +years and character, united to the trustfulness and attachment of the +early days in which you were lost to her. I know perfectly well that if +you had been restored to her from the world beyond this life, you could +hardly be invested, in her sight, with a more sacred character than that +in which you are always with her. I know that when she is clinging to +you, the hands of baby, girl, and woman, all in one, are round your +neck. I know that in loving you she sees and loves her mother at her +own age, sees and loves you at my age, loves her mother broken-hearted, +loves you through your dreadful trial and in your blessed restoration. I +have known this, night and day, since I have known you in your home.” + +Her father sat silent, with his face bent down. His breathing was a +little quickened; but he repressed all other signs of agitation. + +“Dear Doctor Manette, always knowing this, always seeing her and you +with this hallowed light about you, I have forborne, and forborne, as +long as it was in the nature of man to do it. I have felt, and do even +now feel, that to bring my love--even mine--between you, is to touch +your history with something not quite so good as itself. But I love her. +Heaven is my witness that I love her!” + +“I believe it,” answered her father, mournfully. “I have thought so +before now. I believe it.” + +“But, do not believe,” said Darnay, upon whose ear the mournful voice +struck with a reproachful sound, “that if my fortune were so cast as +that, being one day so happy as to make her my wife, I must at any time +put any separation between her and you, I could or would breathe a +word of what I now say. Besides that I should know it to be hopeless, I +should know it to be a baseness. If I had any such possibility, even at +a remote distance of years, harboured in my thoughts, and hidden in my +heart--if it ever had been there--if it ever could be there--I could not +now touch this honoured hand.” + +He laid his own upon it as he spoke. + +“No, dear Doctor Manette. Like you, a voluntary exile from France; like +you, driven from it by its distractions, oppressions, and miseries; like +you, striving to live away from it by my own exertions, and trusting +in a happier future; I look only to sharing your fortunes, sharing your +life and home, and being faithful to you to the death. Not to divide +with Lucie her privilege as your child, companion, and friend; but to +come in aid of it, and bind her closer to you, if such a thing can be.” + +His touch still lingered on her father's hand. Answering the touch for a +moment, but not coldly, her father rested his hands upon the arms of +his chair, and looked up for the first time since the beginning of the +conference. A struggle was evidently in his face; a struggle with that +occasional look which had a tendency in it to dark doubt and dread. + +“You speak so feelingly and so manfully, Charles Darnay, that I thank +you with all my heart, and will open all my heart--or nearly so. Have +you any reason to believe that Lucie loves you?” + +“None. As yet, none.” + +“Is it the immediate object of this confidence, that you may at once +ascertain that, with my knowledge?” + +“Not even so. I might not have the hopefulness to do it for weeks; I +might (mistaken or not mistaken) have that hopefulness to-morrow.” + +“Do you seek any guidance from me?” + +“I ask none, sir. But I have thought it possible that you might have it +in your power, if you should deem it right, to give me some.” + +“Do you seek any promise from me?” + +“I do seek that.” + +“What is it?” + +“I well understand that, without you, I could have no hope. I well +understand that, even if Miss Manette held me at this moment in her +innocent heart--do not think I have the presumption to assume so much--I +could retain no place in it against her love for her father.” + +“If that be so, do you see what, on the other hand, is involved in it?” + +“I understand equally well, that a word from her father in any suitor's +favour, would outweigh herself and all the world. For which reason, +Doctor Manette,” said Darnay, modestly but firmly, “I would not ask that +word, to save my life.” + +“I am sure of it. Charles Darnay, mysteries arise out of close love, as +well as out of wide division; in the former case, they are subtle and +delicate, and difficult to penetrate. My daughter Lucie is, in this one +respect, such a mystery to me; I can make no guess at the state of her +heart.” + +“May I ask, sir, if you think she is--” As he hesitated, her father +supplied the rest. + +“Is sought by any other suitor?” + +“It is what I meant to say.” + +Her father considered a little before he answered: + +“You have seen Mr. Carton here, yourself. Mr. Stryver is here too, +occasionally. If it be at all, it can only be by one of these.” + +“Or both,” said Darnay. + +“I had not thought of both; I should not think either, likely. You want +a promise from me. Tell me what it is.” + +“It is, that if Miss Manette should bring to you at any time, on her own +part, such a confidence as I have ventured to lay before you, you will +bear testimony to what I have said, and to your belief in it. I hope you +may be able to think so well of me, as to urge no influence against +me. I say nothing more of my stake in this; this is what I ask. The +condition on which I ask it, and which you have an undoubted right to +require, I will observe immediately.” + +“I give the promise,” said the Doctor, “without any condition. I believe +your object to be, purely and truthfully, as you have stated it. I +believe your intention is to perpetuate, and not to weaken, the ties +between me and my other and far dearer self. If she should ever tell me +that you are essential to her perfect happiness, I will give her to you. +If there were--Charles Darnay, if there were--” + +The young man had taken his hand gratefully; their hands were joined as +the Doctor spoke: + +“--any fancies, any reasons, any apprehensions, anything whatsoever, +new or old, against the man she really loved--the direct responsibility +thereof not lying on his head--they should all be obliterated for her +sake. She is everything to me; more to me than suffering, more to me +than wrong, more to me--Well! This is idle talk.” + +So strange was the way in which he faded into silence, and so strange +his fixed look when he had ceased to speak, that Darnay felt his own +hand turn cold in the hand that slowly released and dropped it. + +“You said something to me,” said Doctor Manette, breaking into a smile. +“What was it you said to me?” + +He was at a loss how to answer, until he remembered having spoken of a +condition. Relieved as his mind reverted to that, he answered: + +“Your confidence in me ought to be returned with full confidence on my +part. My present name, though but slightly changed from my mother's, is +not, as you will remember, my own. I wish to tell you what that is, and +why I am in England.” + +“Stop!” said the Doctor of Beauvais. + +“I wish it, that I may the better deserve your confidence, and have no +secret from you.” + +“Stop!” + +For an instant, the Doctor even had his two hands at his ears; for +another instant, even had his two hands laid on Darnay's lips. + +“Tell me when I ask you, not now. If your suit should prosper, if Lucie +should love you, you shall tell me on your marriage morning. Do you +promise?” + +“Willingly. + +“Give me your hand. She will be home directly, and it is better she +should not see us together to-night. Go! God bless you!” + +It was dark when Charles Darnay left him, and it was an hour later and +darker when Lucie came home; she hurried into the room alone--for +Miss Pross had gone straight up-stairs--and was surprised to find his +reading-chair empty. + +“My father!” she called to him. “Father dear!” + +Nothing was said in answer, but she heard a low hammering sound in his +bedroom. Passing lightly across the intermediate room, she looked in at +his door and came running back frightened, crying to herself, with her +blood all chilled, “What shall I do! What shall I do!” + +Her uncertainty lasted but a moment; she hurried back, and tapped at +his door, and softly called to him. The noise ceased at the sound of +her voice, and he presently came out to her, and they walked up and down +together for a long time. + +She came down from her bed, to look at him in his sleep that night. He +slept heavily, and his tray of shoemaking tools, and his old unfinished +work, were all as usual. + + + + +XI. A Companion Picture + + +“Sydney,” said Mr. Stryver, on that self-same night, or morning, to his +jackal; “mix another bowl of punch; I have something to say to you.” + +Sydney had been working double tides that night, and the night before, +and the night before that, and a good many nights in succession, making +a grand clearance among Mr. Stryver's papers before the setting in +of the long vacation. The clearance was effected at last; the Stryver +arrears were handsomely fetched up; everything was got rid of until +November should come with its fogs atmospheric, and fogs legal, and +bring grist to the mill again. + +Sydney was none the livelier and none the soberer for so much +application. It had taken a deal of extra wet-towelling to pull him +through the night; a correspondingly extra quantity of wine had preceded +the towelling; and he was in a very damaged condition, as he now pulled +his turban off and threw it into the basin in which he had steeped it at +intervals for the last six hours. + +“Are you mixing that other bowl of punch?” said Stryver the portly, with +his hands in his waistband, glancing round from the sofa where he lay on +his back. + +“I am.” + +“Now, look here! I am going to tell you something that will rather +surprise you, and that perhaps will make you think me not quite as +shrewd as you usually do think me. I intend to marry.” + +“_Do_ you?” + +“Yes. And not for money. What do you say now?” + +“I don't feel disposed to say much. Who is she?” + +“Guess.” + +“Do I know her?” + +“Guess.” + +“I am not going to guess, at five o'clock in the morning, with my brains +frying and sputtering in my head. If you want me to guess, you must ask +me to dinner.” + +“Well then, I'll tell you,” said Stryver, coming slowly into a sitting +posture. “Sydney, I rather despair of making myself intelligible to you, +because you are such an insensible dog.” + +“And you,” returned Sydney, busy concocting the punch, “are such a +sensitive and poetical spirit--” + +“Come!” rejoined Stryver, laughing boastfully, “though I don't prefer +any claim to being the soul of Romance (for I hope I know better), still +I am a tenderer sort of fellow than _you_.” + +“You are a luckier, if you mean that.” + +“I don't mean that. I mean I am a man of more--more--” + +“Say gallantry, while you are about it,” suggested Carton. + +“Well! I'll say gallantry. My meaning is that I am a man,” said Stryver, +inflating himself at his friend as he made the punch, “who cares more to +be agreeable, who takes more pains to be agreeable, who knows better how +to be agreeable, in a woman's society, than you do.” + +“Go on,” said Sydney Carton. + +“No; but before I go on,” said Stryver, shaking his head in his bullying +way, “I'll have this out with you. You've been at Doctor Manette's house +as much as I have, or more than I have. Why, I have been ashamed of your +moroseness there! Your manners have been of that silent and sullen and +hangdog kind, that, upon my life and soul, I have been ashamed of you, +Sydney!” + +“It should be very beneficial to a man in your practice at the bar, to +be ashamed of anything,” returned Sydney; “you ought to be much obliged +to me.” + +“You shall not get off in that way,” rejoined Stryver, shouldering the +rejoinder at him; “no, Sydney, it's my duty to tell you--and I tell you +to your face to do you good--that you are a devilish ill-conditioned +fellow in that sort of society. You are a disagreeable fellow.” + +Sydney drank a bumper of the punch he had made, and laughed. + +“Look at me!” said Stryver, squaring himself; “I have less need to make +myself agreeable than you have, being more independent in circumstances. +Why do I do it?” + +“I never saw you do it yet,” muttered Carton. + +“I do it because it's politic; I do it on principle. And look at me! I +get on.” + +“You don't get on with your account of your matrimonial intentions,” + answered Carton, with a careless air; “I wish you would keep to that. As +to me--will you never understand that I am incorrigible?” + +He asked the question with some appearance of scorn. + +“You have no business to be incorrigible,” was his friend's answer, +delivered in no very soothing tone. + +“I have no business to be, at all, that I know of,” said Sydney Carton. +“Who is the lady?” + +“Now, don't let my announcement of the name make you uncomfortable, +Sydney,” said Mr. Stryver, preparing him with ostentatious friendliness +for the disclosure he was about to make, “because I know you don't mean +half you say; and if you meant it all, it would be of no importance. I +make this little preface, because you once mentioned the young lady to +me in slighting terms.” + +“I did?” + +“Certainly; and in these chambers.” + +Sydney Carton looked at his punch and looked at his complacent friend; +drank his punch and looked at his complacent friend. + +“You made mention of the young lady as a golden-haired doll. The young +lady is Miss Manette. If you had been a fellow of any sensitiveness or +delicacy of feeling in that kind of way, Sydney, I might have been a +little resentful of your employing such a designation; but you are not. +You want that sense altogether; therefore I am no more annoyed when I +think of the expression, than I should be annoyed by a man's opinion of +a picture of mine, who had no eye for pictures: or of a piece of music +of mine, who had no ear for music.” + +Sydney Carton drank the punch at a great rate; drank it by bumpers, +looking at his friend. + +“Now you know all about it, Syd,” said Mr. Stryver. “I don't care about +fortune: she is a charming creature, and I have made up my mind to +please myself: on the whole, I think I can afford to please myself. She +will have in me a man already pretty well off, and a rapidly rising man, +and a man of some distinction: it is a piece of good fortune for her, +but she is worthy of good fortune. Are you astonished?” + +Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, “Why should I be +astonished?” + +“You approve?” + +Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, “Why should I not approve?” + +“Well!” said his friend Stryver, “you take it more easily than I fancied +you would, and are less mercenary on my behalf than I thought you would +be; though, to be sure, you know well enough by this time that your +ancient chum is a man of a pretty strong will. Yes, Sydney, I have had +enough of this style of life, with no other as a change from it; I +feel that it is a pleasant thing for a man to have a home when he feels +inclined to go to it (when he doesn't, he can stay away), and I feel +that Miss Manette will tell well in any station, and will always do me +credit. So I have made up my mind. And now, Sydney, old boy, I want to +say a word to _you_ about _your_ prospects. You are in a bad way, you +know; you really are in a bad way. You don't know the value of money, +you live hard, you'll knock up one of these days, and be ill and poor; +you really ought to think about a nurse.” + +The prosperous patronage with which he said it, made him look twice as +big as he was, and four times as offensive. + +“Now, let me recommend you,” pursued Stryver, “to look it in the face. +I have looked it in the face, in my different way; look it in the face, +you, in your different way. Marry. Provide somebody to take care of +you. Never mind your having no enjoyment of women's society, nor +understanding of it, nor tact for it. Find out somebody. Find out some +respectable woman with a little property--somebody in the landlady way, +or lodging-letting way--and marry her, against a rainy day. That's the +kind of thing for _you_. Now think of it, Sydney.” + +“I'll think of it,” said Sydney. + + + + +XII. The Fellow of Delicacy + + +Mr. Stryver having made up his mind to that magnanimous bestowal of good +fortune on the Doctor's daughter, resolved to make her happiness known +to her before he left town for the Long Vacation. After some mental +debating of the point, he came to the conclusion that it would be as +well to get all the preliminaries done with, and they could then arrange +at their leisure whether he should give her his hand a week or two +before Michaelmas Term, or in the little Christmas vacation between it +and Hilary. + +As to the strength of his case, he had not a doubt about it, but clearly +saw his way to the verdict. Argued with the jury on substantial worldly +grounds--the only grounds ever worth taking into account--it was a +plain case, and had not a weak spot in it. He called himself for the +plaintiff, there was no getting over his evidence, the counsel for +the defendant threw up his brief, and the jury did not even turn to +consider. After trying it, Stryver, C. J., was satisfied that no plainer +case could be. + +Accordingly, Mr. Stryver inaugurated the Long Vacation with a formal +proposal to take Miss Manette to Vauxhall Gardens; that failing, to +Ranelagh; that unaccountably failing too, it behoved him to present +himself in Soho, and there declare his noble mind. + +Towards Soho, therefore, Mr. Stryver shouldered his way from the Temple, +while the bloom of the Long Vacation's infancy was still upon it. +Anybody who had seen him projecting himself into Soho while he was yet +on Saint Dunstan's side of Temple Bar, bursting in his full-blown way +along the pavement, to the jostlement of all weaker people, might have +seen how safe and strong he was. + +His way taking him past Tellson's, and he both banking at Tellson's and +knowing Mr. Lorry as the intimate friend of the Manettes, it entered Mr. +Stryver's mind to enter the bank, and reveal to Mr. Lorry the brightness +of the Soho horizon. So, he pushed open the door with the weak rattle +in its throat, stumbled down the two steps, got past the two ancient +cashiers, and shouldered himself into the musty back closet where Mr. +Lorry sat at great books ruled for figures, with perpendicular iron +bars to his window as if that were ruled for figures too, and everything +under the clouds were a sum. + +“Halloa!” said Mr. Stryver. “How do you do? I hope you are well!” + +It was Stryver's grand peculiarity that he always seemed too big for any +place, or space. He was so much too big for Tellson's, that old clerks +in distant corners looked up with looks of remonstrance, as though he +squeezed them against the wall. The House itself, magnificently reading +the paper quite in the far-off perspective, lowered displeased, as if +the Stryver head had been butted into its responsible waistcoat. + +The discreet Mr. Lorry said, in a sample tone of the voice he would +recommend under the circumstances, “How do you do, Mr. Stryver? How do +you do, sir?” and shook hands. There was a peculiarity in his manner +of shaking hands, always to be seen in any clerk at Tellson's who shook +hands with a customer when the House pervaded the air. He shook in a +self-abnegating way, as one who shook for Tellson and Co. + +“Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?” asked Mr. Lorry, in his +business character. + +“Why, no, thank you; this is a private visit to yourself, Mr. Lorry; I +have come for a private word.” + +“Oh indeed!” said Mr. Lorry, bending down his ear, while his eye strayed +to the House afar off. + +“I am going,” said Mr. Stryver, leaning his arms confidentially on the +desk: whereupon, although it was a large double one, there appeared to +be not half desk enough for him: “I am going to make an offer of myself +in marriage to your agreeable little friend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry.” + +“Oh dear me!” cried Mr. Lorry, rubbing his chin, and looking at his +visitor dubiously. + +“Oh dear me, sir?” repeated Stryver, drawing back. “Oh dear you, sir? +What may your meaning be, Mr. Lorry?” + +“My meaning,” answered the man of business, “is, of course, friendly and +appreciative, and that it does you the greatest credit, and--in short, +my meaning is everything you could desire. But--really, you know, Mr. +Stryver--” Mr. Lorry paused, and shook his head at him in the oddest +manner, as if he were compelled against his will to add, internally, +“you know there really is so much too much of you!” + +“Well!” said Stryver, slapping the desk with his contentious hand, +opening his eyes wider, and taking a long breath, “if I understand you, +Mr. Lorry, I'll be hanged!” + +Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both ears as a means towards that +end, and bit the feather of a pen. + +“D--n it all, sir!” said Stryver, staring at him, “am I not eligible?” + +“Oh dear yes! Yes. Oh yes, you're eligible!” said Mr. Lorry. “If you say +eligible, you are eligible.” + +“Am I not prosperous?” asked Stryver. + +“Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are prosperous,” said Mr. Lorry. + +“And advancing?” + +“If you come to advancing you know,” said Mr. Lorry, delighted to be +able to make another admission, “nobody can doubt that.” + +“Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?” demanded Stryver, +perceptibly crestfallen. + +“Well! I--Were you going there now?” asked Mr. Lorry. + +“Straight!” said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on the desk. + +“Then I think I wouldn't, if I was you.” + +“Why?” said Stryver. “Now, I'll put you in a corner,” forensically +shaking a forefinger at him. “You are a man of business and bound to +have a reason. State your reason. Why wouldn't you go?” + +“Because,” said Mr. Lorry, “I wouldn't go on such an object without +having some cause to believe that I should succeed.” + +“D--n _me_!” cried Stryver, “but this beats everything.” + +Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and glanced at the angry +Stryver. + +“Here's a man of business--a man of years--a man of experience--_in_ +a Bank,” said Stryver; “and having summed up three leading reasons for +complete success, he says there's no reason at all! Says it with his +head on!” Mr. Stryver remarked upon the peculiarity as if it would have +been infinitely less remarkable if he had said it with his head off. + +“When I speak of success, I speak of success with the young lady; and +when I speak of causes and reasons to make success probable, I speak of +causes and reasons that will tell as such with the young lady. The young +lady, my good sir,” said Mr. Lorry, mildly tapping the Stryver arm, “the +young lady. The young lady goes before all.” + +“Then you mean to tell me, Mr. Lorry,” said Stryver, squaring his +elbows, “that it is your deliberate opinion that the young lady at +present in question is a mincing Fool?” + +“Not exactly so. I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver,” said Mr. Lorry, +reddening, “that I will hear no disrespectful word of that young lady +from any lips; and that if I knew any man--which I hope I do not--whose +taste was so coarse, and whose temper was so overbearing, that he could +not restrain himself from speaking disrespectfully of that young lady at +this desk, not even Tellson's should prevent my giving him a piece of my +mind.” + +The necessity of being angry in a suppressed tone had put Mr. Stryver's +blood-vessels into a dangerous state when it was his turn to be angry; +Mr. Lorry's veins, methodical as their courses could usually be, were in +no better state now it was his turn. + +“That is what I mean to tell you, sir,” said Mr. Lorry. “Pray let there +be no mistake about it.” + +Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a little while, and then stood +hitting a tune out of his teeth with it, which probably gave him the +toothache. He broke the awkward silence by saying: + +“This is something new to me, Mr. Lorry. You deliberately advise me not +to go up to Soho and offer myself--_my_self, Stryver of the King's Bench +bar?” + +“Do you ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?” + +“Yes, I do.” + +“Very good. Then I give it, and you have repeated it correctly.” + +“And all I can say of it is,” laughed Stryver with a vexed laugh, “that +this--ha, ha!--beats everything past, present, and to come.” + +“Now understand me,” pursued Mr. Lorry. “As a man of business, I am +not justified in saying anything about this matter, for, as a man of +business, I know nothing of it. But, as an old fellow, who has carried +Miss Manette in his arms, who is the trusted friend of Miss Manette and +of her father too, and who has a great affection for them both, I have +spoken. The confidence is not of my seeking, recollect. Now, you think I +may not be right?” + +“Not I!” said Stryver, whistling. “I can't undertake to find third +parties in common sense; I can only find it for myself. I suppose sense +in certain quarters; you suppose mincing bread-and-butter nonsense. It's +new to me, but you are right, I dare say.” + +“What I suppose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to characterise for myself--And +understand me, sir,” said Mr. Lorry, quickly flushing again, “I +will not--not even at Tellson's--have it characterised for me by any +gentleman breathing.” + +“There! I beg your pardon!” said Stryver. + +“Granted. Thank you. Well, Mr. Stryver, I was about to say:--it might be +painful to you to find yourself mistaken, it might be painful to Doctor +Manette to have the task of being explicit with you, it might be very +painful to Miss Manette to have the task of being explicit with you. You +know the terms upon which I have the honour and happiness to stand with +the family. If you please, committing you in no way, representing you +in no way, I will undertake to correct my advice by the exercise of a +little new observation and judgment expressly brought to bear upon +it. If you should then be dissatisfied with it, you can but test its +soundness for yourself; if, on the other hand, you should be satisfied +with it, and it should be what it now is, it may spare all sides what is +best spared. What do you say?” + +“How long would you keep me in town?” + +“Oh! It is only a question of a few hours. I could go to Soho in the +evening, and come to your chambers afterwards.” + +“Then I say yes,” said Stryver: “I won't go up there now, I am not so +hot upon it as that comes to; I say yes, and I shall expect you to look +in to-night. Good morning.” + +Then Mr. Stryver turned and burst out of the Bank, causing such a +concussion of air on his passage through, that to stand up against it +bowing behind the two counters, required the utmost remaining strength +of the two ancient clerks. Those venerable and feeble persons were +always seen by the public in the act of bowing, and were popularly +believed, when they had bowed a customer out, still to keep on bowing in +the empty office until they bowed another customer in. + +The barrister was keen enough to divine that the banker would not have +gone so far in his expression of opinion on any less solid ground than +moral certainty. Unprepared as he was for the large pill he had to +swallow, he got it down. “And now,” said Mr. Stryver, shaking his +forensic forefinger at the Temple in general, when it was down, “my way +out of this, is, to put you all in the wrong.” + +It was a bit of the art of an Old Bailey tactician, in which he found +great relief. “You shall not put me in the wrong, young lady,” said Mr. +Stryver; “I'll do that for you.” + +Accordingly, when Mr. Lorry called that night as late as ten o'clock, +Mr. Stryver, among a quantity of books and papers littered out for the +purpose, seemed to have nothing less on his mind than the subject of +the morning. He even showed surprise when he saw Mr. Lorry, and was +altogether in an absent and preoccupied state. + +“Well!” said that good-natured emissary, after a full half-hour of +bootless attempts to bring him round to the question. “I have been to +Soho.” + +“To Soho?” repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly. “Oh, to be sure! What am I +thinking of!” + +“And I have no doubt,” said Mr. Lorry, “that I was right in the +conversation we had. My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my +advice.” + +“I assure you,” returned Mr. Stryver, in the friendliest way, “that I +am sorry for it on your account, and sorry for it on the poor father's +account. I know this must always be a sore subject with the family; let +us say no more about it.” + +“I don't understand you,” said Mr. Lorry. + +“I dare say not,” rejoined Stryver, nodding his head in a smoothing and +final way; “no matter, no matter.” + +“But it does matter,” Mr. Lorry urged. + +“No it doesn't; I assure you it doesn't. Having supposed that there was +sense where there is no sense, and a laudable ambition where there is +not a laudable ambition, I am well out of my mistake, and no harm is +done. Young women have committed similar follies often before, and have +repented them in poverty and obscurity often before. In an unselfish +aspect, I am sorry that the thing is dropped, because it would have been +a bad thing for me in a worldly point of view; in a selfish aspect, I am +glad that the thing has dropped, because it would have been a bad thing +for me in a worldly point of view--it is hardly necessary to say I could +have gained nothing by it. There is no harm at all done. I have not +proposed to the young lady, and, between ourselves, I am by no means +certain, on reflection, that I ever should have committed myself to +that extent. Mr. Lorry, you cannot control the mincing vanities and +giddinesses of empty-headed girls; you must not expect to do it, or you +will always be disappointed. Now, pray say no more about it. I tell you, +I regret it on account of others, but I am satisfied on my own account. +And I am really very much obliged to you for allowing me to sound you, +and for giving me your advice; you know the young lady better than I do; +you were right, it never would have done.” + +Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he looked quite stupidly at Mr. +Stryver shouldering him towards the door, with an appearance of +showering generosity, forbearance, and goodwill, on his erring head. +“Make the best of it, my dear sir,” said Stryver; “say no more about it; +thank you again for allowing me to sound you; good night!” + +Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he knew where he was. Mr. Stryver +was lying back on his sofa, winking at his ceiling. + + + + +XIII. The Fellow of No Delicacy + + +If Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the +house of Doctor Manette. He had been there often, during a whole year, +and had always been the same moody and morose lounger there. When he +cared to talk, he talked well; but, the cloud of caring for nothing, +which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely +pierced by the light within him. + +And yet he did care something for the streets that environed that house, +and for the senseless stones that made their pavements. Many a night +he vaguely and unhappily wandered there, when wine had brought no +transitory gladness to him; many a dreary daybreak revealed his solitary +figure lingering there, and still lingering there when the first beams +of the sun brought into strong relief, removed beauties of architecture +in spires of churches and lofty buildings, as perhaps the quiet time +brought some sense of better things, else forgotten and unattainable, +into his mind. Of late, the neglected bed in the Temple Court had known +him more scantily than ever; and often when he had thrown himself upon +it no longer than a few minutes, he had got up again, and haunted that +neighbourhood. + +On a day in August, when Mr. Stryver (after notifying to his jackal +that “he had thought better of that marrying matter”) had carried his +delicacy into Devonshire, and when the sight and scent of flowers in the +City streets had some waifs of goodness in them for the worst, of health +for the sickliest, and of youth for the oldest, Sydney's feet still trod +those stones. From being irresolute and purposeless, his feet became +animated by an intention, and, in the working out of that intention, +they took him to the Doctor's door. + +He was shown up-stairs, and found Lucie at her work, alone. She had +never been quite at her ease with him, and received him with some little +embarrassment as he seated himself near her table. But, looking up at +his face in the interchange of the first few common-places, she observed +a change in it. + +“I fear you are not well, Mr. Carton!” + +“No. But the life I lead, Miss Manette, is not conducive to health. What +is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?” + +“Is it not--forgive me; I have begun the question on my lips--a pity to +live no better life?” + +“God knows it is a shame!” + +“Then why not change it?” + +Looking gently at him again, she was surprised and saddened to see that +there were tears in his eyes. There were tears in his voice too, as he +answered: + +“It is too late for that. I shall never be better than I am. I shall +sink lower, and be worse.” + +He leaned an elbow on her table, and covered his eyes with his hand. The +table trembled in the silence that followed. + +She had never seen him softened, and was much distressed. He knew her to +be so, without looking at her, and said: + +“Pray forgive me, Miss Manette. I break down before the knowledge of +what I want to say to you. Will you hear me?” + +“If it will do you any good, Mr. Carton, if it would make you happier, +it would make me very glad!” + +“God bless you for your sweet compassion!” + +He unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily. + +“Don't be afraid to hear me. Don't shrink from anything I say. I am like +one who died young. All my life might have been.” + +“No, Mr. Carton. I am sure that the best part of it might still be; I am +sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself.” + +“Say of you, Miss Manette, and although I know better--although in the +mystery of my own wretched heart I know better--I shall never forget +it!” + +She was pale and trembling. He came to her relief with a fixed despair +of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could have +been holden. + +“If it had been possible, Miss Manette, that you could have returned the +love of the man you see before yourself--flung away, wasted, drunken, +poor creature of misuse as you know him to be--he would have been +conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he would +bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and repentance, blight you, +disgrace you, pull you down with him. I know very well that you can have +no tenderness for me; I ask for none; I am even thankful that it cannot +be.” + +“Without it, can I not save you, Mr. Carton? Can I not recall +you--forgive me again!--to a better course? Can I in no way repay your +confidence? I know this is a confidence,” she modestly said, after a +little hesitation, and in earnest tears, “I know you would say this to +no one else. Can I turn it to no good account for yourself, Mr. Carton?” + +He shook his head. + +“To none. No, Miss Manette, to none. If you will hear me through a very +little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that +you have been the last dream of my soul. In my degradation I have not +been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this +home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I thought had +died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a remorse that +I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from +old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were silent for ever. I +have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off +sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all +a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, +but I wish you to know that you inspired it.” + +“Will nothing of it remain? O Mr. Carton, think again! Try again!” + +“No, Miss Manette; all through it, I have known myself to be quite +undeserving. And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the +weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, +heap of ashes that I am, into fire--a fire, however, inseparable in +its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no +service, idly burning away.” + +“Since it is my misfortune, Mr. Carton, to have made you more unhappy +than you were before you knew me--” + +“Don't say that, Miss Manette, for you would have reclaimed me, if +anything could. You will not be the cause of my becoming worse.” + +“Since the state of your mind that you describe, is, at all events, +attributable to some influence of mine--this is what I mean, if I can +make it plain--can I use no influence to serve you? Have I no power for +good, with you, at all?” + +“The utmost good that I am capable of now, Miss Manette, I have come +here to realise. Let me carry through the rest of my misdirected life, +the remembrance that I opened my heart to you, last of all the world; +and that there was something left in me at this time which you could +deplore and pity.” + +“Which I entreated you to believe, again and again, most fervently, with +all my heart, was capable of better things, Mr. Carton!” + +“Entreat me to believe it no more, Miss Manette. I have proved myself, +and I know better. I distress you; I draw fast to an end. Will you let +me believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence of my life +was reposed in your pure and innocent breast, and that it lies there +alone, and will be shared by no one?” + +“If that will be a consolation to you, yes.” + +“Not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?” + +“Mr. Carton,” she answered, after an agitated pause, “the secret is +yours, not mine; and I promise to respect it.” + +“Thank you. And again, God bless you.” + +He put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door. + +“Be under no apprehension, Miss Manette, of my ever resuming this +conversation by so much as a passing word. I will never refer to it +again. If I were dead, that could not be surer than it is henceforth. In +the hour of my death, I shall hold sacred the one good remembrance--and +shall thank and bless you for it--that my last avowal of myself was made +to you, and that my name, and faults, and miseries were gently carried +in your heart. May it otherwise be light and happy!” + +He was so unlike what he had ever shown himself to be, and it was so +sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much he every day kept +down and perverted, that Lucie Manette wept mournfully for him as he +stood looking back at her. + +“Be comforted!” he said, “I am not worth such feeling, Miss Manette. An +hour or two hence, and the low companions and low habits that I scorn +but yield to, will render me less worth such tears as those, than any +wretch who creeps along the streets. Be comforted! But, within myself, I +shall always be, towards you, what I am now, though outwardly I shall be +what you have heretofore seen me. The last supplication but one I make +to you, is, that you will believe this of me.” + +“I will, Mr. Carton.” + +“My last supplication of all, is this; and with it, I will relieve +you of a visitor with whom I well know you have nothing in unison, and +between whom and you there is an impassable space. It is useless to say +it, I know, but it rises out of my soul. For you, and for any dear to +you, I would do anything. If my career were of that better kind that +there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, I would +embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. Try to hold +me in your mind, at some quiet times, as ardent and sincere in this one +thing. The time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new +ties will be formed about you--ties that will bind you yet more tenderly +and strongly to the home you so adorn--the dearest ties that will ever +grace and gladden you. O Miss Manette, when the little picture of a +happy father's face looks up in yours, when you see your own bright +beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is +a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!” + +He said, “Farewell!” said a last “God bless you!” and left her. + + + + +XIV. The Honest Tradesman + + +To the eyes of Mr. Jeremiah Cruncher, sitting on his stool in +Fleet-street with his grisly urchin beside him, a vast number and +variety of objects in movement were every day presented. Who could sit +upon anything in Fleet-street during the busy hours of the day, and +not be dazed and deafened by two immense processions, one ever tending +westward with the sun, the other ever tending eastward from the sun, +both ever tending to the plains beyond the range of red and purple where +the sun goes down! + +With his straw in his mouth, Mr. Cruncher sat watching the two streams, +like the heathen rustic who has for several centuries been on duty +watching one stream--saving that Jerry had no expectation of their ever +running dry. Nor would it have been an expectation of a hopeful kind, +since a small part of his income was derived from the pilotage of timid +women (mostly of a full habit and past the middle term of life) from +Tellson's side of the tides to the opposite shore. Brief as such +companionship was in every separate instance, Mr. Cruncher never failed +to become so interested in the lady as to express a strong desire to +have the honour of drinking her very good health. And it was from +the gifts bestowed upon him towards the execution of this benevolent +purpose, that he recruited his finances, as just now observed. + +Time was, when a poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused in +the sight of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitting on a stool in a public place, +but not being a poet, mused as little as possible, and looked about him. + +It fell out that he was thus engaged in a season when crowds were +few, and belated women few, and when his affairs in general were so +unprosperous as to awaken a strong suspicion in his breast that Mrs. +Cruncher must have been “flopping” in some pointed manner, when an +unusual concourse pouring down Fleet-street westward, attracted his +attention. Looking that way, Mr. Cruncher made out that some kind of +funeral was coming along, and that there was popular objection to this +funeral, which engendered uproar. + +“Young Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, turning to his offspring, “it's a +buryin'.” + +“Hooroar, father!” cried Young Jerry. + +The young gentleman uttered this exultant sound with mysterious +significance. The elder gentleman took the cry so ill, that he watched +his opportunity, and smote the young gentleman on the ear. + +“What d'ye mean? What are you hooroaring at? What do you want to conwey +to your own father, you young Rip? This boy is a getting too many for +_me_!” said Mr. Cruncher, surveying him. “Him and his hooroars! Don't +let me hear no more of you, or you shall feel some more of me. D'ye +hear?” + +“I warn't doing no harm,” Young Jerry protested, rubbing his cheek. + +“Drop it then,” said Mr. Cruncher; “I won't have none of _your_ no +harms. Get a top of that there seat, and look at the crowd.” + +His son obeyed, and the crowd approached; they were bawling and hissing +round a dingy hearse and dingy mourning coach, in which mourning coach +there was only one mourner, dressed in the dingy trappings that were +considered essential to the dignity of the position. The position +appeared by no means to please him, however, with an increasing rabble +surrounding the coach, deriding him, making grimaces at him, and +incessantly groaning and calling out: “Yah! Spies! Tst! Yaha! Spies!” + with many compliments too numerous and forcible to repeat. + +Funerals had at all times a remarkable attraction for Mr. Cruncher; he +always pricked up his senses, and became excited, when a funeral passed +Tellson's. Naturally, therefore, a funeral with this uncommon attendance +excited him greatly, and he asked of the first man who ran against him: + +“What is it, brother? What's it about?” + +“_I_ don't know,” said the man. “Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!” + +He asked another man. “Who is it?” + +“_I_ don't know,” returned the man, clapping his hands to his mouth +nevertheless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with the +greatest ardour, “Spies! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi--ies!” + +At length, a person better informed on the merits of the case, tumbled +against him, and from this person he learned that the funeral was the +funeral of one Roger Cly. + +“Was he a spy?” asked Mr. Cruncher. + +“Old Bailey spy,” returned his informant. “Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey +Spi--i--ies!” + +“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had +assisted. “I've seen him. Dead, is he?” + +“Dead as mutton,” returned the other, “and can't be too dead. Have 'em +out, there! Spies! Pull 'em out, there! Spies!” + +The idea was so acceptable in the prevalent absence of any idea, +that the crowd caught it up with eagerness, and loudly repeating the +suggestion to have 'em out, and to pull 'em out, mobbed the two vehicles +so closely that they came to a stop. On the crowd's opening the coach +doors, the one mourner scuffled out by himself and was in their hands +for a moment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, +that in another moment he was scouring away up a bye-street, after +shedding his cloak, hat, long hatband, white pocket-handkerchief, and +other symbolical tears. + +These, the people tore to pieces and scattered far and wide with great +enjoyment, while the tradesmen hurriedly shut up their shops; for a +crowd in those times stopped at nothing, and was a monster much dreaded. +They had already got the length of opening the hearse to take the coffin +out, when some brighter genius proposed instead, its being escorted to +its destination amidst general rejoicing. Practical suggestions being +much needed, this suggestion, too, was received with acclamation, and +the coach was immediately filled with eight inside and a dozen out, +while as many people got on the roof of the hearse as could by any +exercise of ingenuity stick upon it. Among the first of these volunteers +was Jerry Cruncher himself, who modestly concealed his spiky head from +the observation of Tellson's, in the further corner of the mourning +coach. + +The officiating undertakers made some protest against these changes in +the ceremonies; but, the river being alarmingly near, and several voices +remarking on the efficacy of cold immersion in bringing refractory +members of the profession to reason, the protest was faint and brief. +The remodelled procession started, with a chimney-sweep driving the +hearse--advised by the regular driver, who was perched beside him, under +close inspection, for the purpose--and with a pieman, also attended +by his cabinet minister, driving the mourning coach. A bear-leader, a +popular street character of the time, was impressed as an additional +ornament, before the cavalcade had gone far down the Strand; and his +bear, who was black and very mangy, gave quite an Undertaking air to +that part of the procession in which he walked. + +Thus, with beer-drinking, pipe-smoking, song-roaring, and infinite +caricaturing of woe, the disorderly procession went its way, recruiting +at every step, and all the shops shutting up before it. Its destination +was the old church of Saint Pancras, far off in the fields. It got there +in course of time; insisted on pouring into the burial-ground; finally, +accomplished the interment of the deceased Roger Cly in its own way, and +highly to its own satisfaction. + +The dead man disposed of, and the crowd being under the necessity of +providing some other entertainment for itself, another brighter +genius (or perhaps the same) conceived the humour of impeaching casual +passers-by, as Old Bailey spies, and wreaking vengeance on them. Chase +was given to some scores of inoffensive persons who had never been near +the Old Bailey in their lives, in the realisation of this fancy, and +they were roughly hustled and maltreated. The transition to the sport of +window-breaking, and thence to the plundering of public-houses, was easy +and natural. At last, after several hours, when sundry summer-houses had +been pulled down, and some area-railings had been torn up, to arm +the more belligerent spirits, a rumour got about that the Guards were +coming. Before this rumour, the crowd gradually melted away, and perhaps +the Guards came, and perhaps they never came, and this was the usual +progress of a mob. + +Mr. Cruncher did not assist at the closing sports, but had remained +behind in the churchyard, to confer and condole with the undertakers. +The place had a soothing influence on him. He procured a pipe from a +neighbouring public-house, and smoked it, looking in at the railings and +maturely considering the spot. + +“Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, apostrophising himself in his usual way, +“you see that there Cly that day, and you see with your own eyes that he +was a young 'un and a straight made 'un.” + +Having smoked his pipe out, and ruminated a little longer, he turned +himself about, that he might appear, before the hour of closing, on his +station at Tellson's. Whether his meditations on mortality had touched +his liver, or whether his general health had been previously at all +amiss, or whether he desired to show a little attention to an eminent +man, is not so much to the purpose, as that he made a short call upon +his medical adviser--a distinguished surgeon--on his way back. + +Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and reported No +job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient clerks came out, the +usual watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea. + +“Now, I tell you where it is!” said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on +entering. “If, as a honest tradesman, my wenturs goes wrong to-night, I +shall make sure that you've been praying again me, and I shall work you +for it just the same as if I seen you do it.” + +The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head. + +“Why, you're at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of +angry apprehension. + +“I am saying nothing.” + +“Well, then; don't meditate nothing. You might as well flop as meditate. +You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop it altogether.” + +“Yes, Jerry.” + +“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It _is_ +yes, Jerry. That's about it. You may say yes, Jerry.” + +Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corroborations, +but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express general +ironical dissatisfaction. + +“You and your yes, Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his +bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible +oyster out of his saucer. “Ah! I think so. I believe you.” + +“You are going out to-night?” asked his decent wife, when he took +another bite. + +“Yes, I am.” + +“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly. + +“No, you mayn't. I'm a going--as your mother knows--a fishing. That's +where I'm going to. Going a fishing.” + +“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don't it, father?” + +“Never you mind.” + +“Shall you bring any fish home, father?” + +“If I don't, you'll have short commons, to-morrow,” returned that +gentleman, shaking his head; “that's questions enough for you; I ain't a +going out, till you've been long abed.” + +He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a +most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in +conversation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions +to his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in +conversation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling +on any causes of complaint he could bring against her, rather than +he would leave her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest +person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an +honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a +professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story. + +“And mind you!” said Mr. Cruncher. “No games to-morrow! If I, as a +honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none +of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest +tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring +on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly +customer to you, if you don't. _I_'m your Rome, you know.” + +Then he began grumbling again: + +“With your flying into the face of your own wittles and drink! I don't +know how scarce you mayn't make the wittles and drink here, by your +flopping tricks and your unfeeling conduct. Look at your boy: he _is_ +your'n, ain't he? He's as thin as a lath. Do you call yourself a mother, +and not know that a mother's first duty is to blow her boy out?” + +This touched Young Jerry on a tender place; who adjured his mother to +perform her first duty, and, whatever else she did or neglected, above +all things to lay especial stress on the discharge of that maternal +function so affectingly and delicately indicated by his other parent. + +Thus the evening wore away with the Cruncher family, until Young Jerry +was ordered to bed, and his mother, laid under similar injunctions, +obeyed them. Mr. Cruncher beguiled the earlier watches of the night with +solitary pipes, and did not start upon his excursion until nearly one +o'clock. Towards that small and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, +took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought +forth a sack, a crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other +fishing tackle of that nature. Disposing these articles about him +in skilful manner, he bestowed a parting defiance on Mrs. Cruncher, +extinguished the light, and went out. + +Young Jerry, who had only made a feint of undressing when he went to +bed, was not long after his father. Under cover of the darkness he +followed out of the room, followed down the stairs, followed down the +court, followed out into the streets. He was in no uneasiness concerning +his getting into the house again, for it was full of lodgers, and the +door stood ajar all night. + +Impelled by a laudable ambition to study the art and mystery of his +father's honest calling, Young Jerry, keeping as close to house fronts, +walls, and doorways, as his eyes were close to one another, held his +honoured parent in view. The honoured parent steering Northward, had not +gone far, when he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and +the two trudged on together. + +Within half an hour from the first starting, they were beyond the +winking lamps, and the more than winking watchmen, and were out upon a +lonely road. Another fisherman was picked up here--and that so silently, +that if Young Jerry had been superstitious, he might have supposed the +second follower of the gentle craft to have, all of a sudden, split +himself into two. + +The three went on, and Young Jerry went on, until the three stopped +under a bank overhanging the road. Upon the top of the bank was a low +brick wall, surmounted by an iron railing. In the shadow of bank and +wall the three turned out of the road, and up a blind lane, of which +the wall--there, risen to some eight or ten feet high--formed one side. +Crouching down in a corner, peeping up the lane, the next object that +Young Jerry saw, was the form of his honoured parent, pretty well +defined against a watery and clouded moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate. +He was soon over, and then the second fisherman got over, and then the +third. They all dropped softly on the ground within the gate, and lay +there a little--listening perhaps. Then, they moved away on their hands +and knees. + +It was now Young Jerry's turn to approach the gate: which he did, +holding his breath. Crouching down again in a corner there, and looking +in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some rank grass! +and all the gravestones in the churchyard--it was a large churchyard +that they were in--looking on like ghosts in white, while the church +tower itself looked on like the ghost of a monstrous giant. They did not +creep far, before they stopped and stood upright. And then they began to +fish. + +They fished with a spade, at first. Presently the honoured parent +appeared to be adjusting some instrument like a great corkscrew. +Whatever tools they worked with, they worked hard, until the awful +striking of the church clock so terrified Young Jerry, that he made off, +with his hair as stiff as his father's. + +But, his long-cherished desire to know more about these matters, not +only stopped him in his running away, but lured him back again. They +were still fishing perseveringly, when he peeped in at the gate for +the second time; but, now they seemed to have got a bite. There was a +screwing and complaining sound down below, and their bent figures were +strained, as if by a weight. By slow degrees the weight broke away the +earth upon it, and came to the surface. Young Jerry very well knew what +it would be; but, when he saw it, and saw his honoured parent about to +wrench it open, he was so frightened, being new to the sight, that he +made off again, and never stopped until he had run a mile or more. + +He would not have stopped then, for anything less necessary than breath, +it being a spectral sort of race that he ran, and one highly desirable +to get to the end of. He had a strong idea that the coffin he had seen +was running after him; and, pictured as hopping on behind him, bolt +upright, upon its narrow end, always on the point of overtaking him +and hopping on at his side--perhaps taking his arm--it was a pursuer to +shun. It was an inconsistent and ubiquitous fiend too, for, while it +was making the whole night behind him dreadful, he darted out into the +roadway to avoid dark alleys, fearful of its coming hopping out of them +like a dropsical boy's kite without tail and wings. It hid in doorways +too, rubbing its horrible shoulders against doors, and drawing them up +to its ears, as if it were laughing. It got into shadows on the road, +and lay cunningly on its back to trip him up. All this time it was +incessantly hopping on behind and gaining on him, so that when the boy +got to his own door he had reason for being half dead. And even then +it would not leave him, but followed him upstairs with a bump on every +stair, scrambled into bed with him, and bumped down, dead and heavy, on +his breast when he fell asleep. + +From his oppressed slumber, Young Jerry in his closet was awakened after +daybreak and before sunrise, by the presence of his father in the +family room. Something had gone wrong with him; at least, so Young Jerry +inferred, from the circumstance of his holding Mrs. Cruncher by the +ears, and knocking the back of her head against the head-board of the +bed. + +“I told you I would,” said Mr. Cruncher, “and I did.” + +“Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!” his wife implored. + +“You oppose yourself to the profit of the business,” said Jerry, “and me +and my partners suffer. You was to honour and obey; why the devil don't +you?” + +“I try to be a good wife, Jerry,” the poor woman protested, with tears. + +“Is it being a good wife to oppose your husband's business? Is it +honouring your husband to dishonour his business? Is it obeying your +husband to disobey him on the wital subject of his business?” + +“You hadn't taken to the dreadful business then, Jerry.” + +“It's enough for you,” retorted Mr. Cruncher, “to be the wife of a +honest tradesman, and not to occupy your female mind with calculations +when he took to his trade or when he didn't. A honouring and obeying +wife would let his trade alone altogether. Call yourself a religious +woman? If you're a religious woman, give me a irreligious one! You have +no more nat'ral sense of duty than the bed of this here Thames river has +of a pile, and similarly it must be knocked into you.” + +The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and terminated in +the honest tradesman's kicking off his clay-soiled boots, and lying down +at his length on the floor. After taking a timid peep at him lying on +his back, with his rusty hands under his head for a pillow, his son lay +down too, and fell asleep again. + +There was no fish for breakfast, and not much of anything else. Mr. +Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of temper, and kept an iron pot-lid +by him as a projectile for the correction of Mrs. Cruncher, in case +he should observe any symptoms of her saying Grace. He was brushed +and washed at the usual hour, and set off with his son to pursue his +ostensible calling. + +Young Jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his father's side +along sunny and crowded Fleet-street, was a very different Young Jerry +from him of the previous night, running home through darkness and +solitude from his grim pursuer. His cunning was fresh with the day, +and his qualms were gone with the night--in which particulars it is not +improbable that he had compeers in Fleet-street and the City of London, +that fine morning. + +“Father,” said Young Jerry, as they walked along: taking care to keep +at arm's length and to have the stool well between them: “what's a +Resurrection-Man?” + +Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before he answered, “How +should I know?” + +“I thought you knowed everything, father,” said the artless boy. + +“Hem! Well,” returned Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and lifting off his +hat to give his spikes free play, “he's a tradesman.” + +“What's his goods, father?” asked the brisk Young Jerry. + +“His goods,” said Mr. Cruncher, after turning it over in his mind, “is a +branch of Scientific goods.” + +“Persons' bodies, ain't it, father?” asked the lively boy. + +“I believe it is something of that sort,” said Mr. Cruncher. + +“Oh, father, I should so like to be a Resurrection-Man when I'm quite +growed up!” + +Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his head in a dubious and moral way. +“It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Be careful to dewelop +your talents, and never to say no more than you can help to nobody, and +there's no telling at the present time what you may not come to be fit +for.” As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few yards in advance, +to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar, Mr. Cruncher added to +himself: “Jerry, you honest tradesman, there's hopes wot that boy will +yet be a blessing to you, and a recompense to you for his mother!” + + + + +XV. Knitting + + +There had been earlier drinking than usual in the wine-shop of Monsieur +Defarge. As early as six o'clock in the morning, sallow faces peeping +through its barred windows had descried other faces within, bending over +measures of wine. Monsieur Defarge sold a very thin wine at the best +of times, but it would seem to have been an unusually thin wine that +he sold at this time. A sour wine, moreover, or a souring, for its +influence on the mood of those who drank it was to make them gloomy. No +vivacious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of the pressed grape of Monsieur +Defarge: but, a smouldering fire that burnt in the dark, lay hidden in +the dregs of it. + +This had been the third morning in succession, on which there had been +early drinking at the wine-shop of Monsieur Defarge. It had begun +on Monday, and here was Wednesday come. There had been more of early +brooding than drinking; for, many men had listened and whispered and +slunk about there from the time of the opening of the door, who could +not have laid a piece of money on the counter to save their souls. These +were to the full as interested in the place, however, as if they could +have commanded whole barrels of wine; and they glided from seat to seat, +and from corner to corner, swallowing talk in lieu of drink, with greedy +looks. + +Notwithstanding an unusual flow of company, the master of the wine-shop +was not visible. He was not missed; for, nobody who crossed the +threshold looked for him, nobody asked for him, nobody wondered to see +only Madame Defarge in her seat, presiding over the distribution of +wine, with a bowl of battered small coins before her, as much defaced +and beaten out of their original impress as the small coinage of +humanity from whose ragged pockets they had come. + +A suspended interest and a prevalent absence of mind, were perhaps +observed by the spies who looked in at the wine-shop, as they looked in +at every place, high and low, from the king's palace to the criminal's +gaol. Games at cards languished, players at dominoes musingly built +towers with them, drinkers drew figures on the tables with spilt drops +of wine, Madame Defarge herself picked out the pattern on her sleeve +with her toothpick, and saw and heard something inaudible and invisible +a long way off. + +Thus, Saint Antoine in this vinous feature of his, until midday. It was +high noontide, when two dusty men passed through his streets and under +his swinging lamps: of whom, one was Monsieur Defarge: the other a +mender of roads in a blue cap. All adust and athirst, the two entered +the wine-shop. Their arrival had lighted a kind of fire in the breast +of Saint Antoine, fast spreading as they came along, which stirred and +flickered in flames of faces at most doors and windows. Yet, no one had +followed them, and no man spoke when they entered the wine-shop, though +the eyes of every man there were turned upon them. + +“Good day, gentlemen!” said Monsieur Defarge. + +It may have been a signal for loosening the general tongue. It elicited +an answering chorus of “Good day!” + +“It is bad weather, gentlemen,” said Defarge, shaking his head. + +Upon which, every man looked at his neighbour, and then all cast down +their eyes and sat silent. Except one man, who got up and went out. + +“My wife,” said Defarge aloud, addressing Madame Defarge: “I have +travelled certain leagues with this good mender of roads, called +Jacques. I met him--by accident--a day and half's journey out of Paris. +He is a good child, this mender of roads, called Jacques. Give him to +drink, my wife!” + +A second man got up and went out. Madame Defarge set wine before the +mender of roads called Jacques, who doffed his blue cap to the company, +and drank. In the breast of his blouse he carried some coarse dark +bread; he ate of this between whiles, and sat munching and drinking near +Madame Defarge's counter. A third man got up and went out. + +Defarge refreshed himself with a draught of wine--but, he took less +than was given to the stranger, as being himself a man to whom it was no +rarity--and stood waiting until the countryman had made his breakfast. +He looked at no one present, and no one now looked at him; not even +Madame Defarge, who had taken up her knitting, and was at work. + +“Have you finished your repast, friend?” he asked, in due season. + +“Yes, thank you.” + +“Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could +occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.” + +Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a +courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the +staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where a white-haired man +sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes. + +No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had +gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the white-haired +man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at +him through the chinks in the wall. + +Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice: + +“Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness +encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four. He will tell you all. +Speak, Jacques Five!” + +The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with +it, and said, “Where shall I commence, monsieur?” + +“Commence,” was Monsieur Defarge's not unreasonable reply, “at the +commencement.” + +“I saw him then, messieurs,” began the mender of roads, “a year ago this +running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging by the +chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun +going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he +hanging by the chain--like this.” + +Again the mender of roads went through the whole performance; in which +he ought to have been perfect by that time, seeing that it had been +the infallible resource and indispensable entertainment of his village +during a whole year. + +Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the man before? + +“Never,” answered the mender of roads, recovering his perpendicular. + +Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then? + +“By his tall figure,” said the mender of roads, softly, and with his +finger at his nose. “When Monsieur the Marquis demands that evening, +'Say, what is he like?' I make response, 'Tall as a spectre.'” + +“You should have said, short as a dwarf,” returned Jacques Two. + +“But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished, neither did he +confide in me. Observe! Under those circumstances even, I do not +offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis indicates me with his finger, +standing near our little fountain, and says, 'To me! Bring that rascal!' +My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing.” + +“He is right there, Jacques,” murmured Defarge, to him who had +interrupted. “Go on!” + +“Good!” said the mender of roads, with an air of mystery. “The tall man +is lost, and he is sought--how many months? Nine, ten, eleven?” + +“No matter, the number,” said Defarge. “He is well hidden, but at last +he is unluckily found. Go on!” + +“I am again at work upon the hill-side, and the sun is again about to +go to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to my cottage down in the +village below, where it is already dark, when I raise my eyes, and see +coming over the hill six soldiers. In the midst of them is a tall man +with his arms bound--tied to his sides--like this!” + +With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man with his +elbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were knotted behind him. + +“I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see the soldiers +and their prisoner pass (for it is a solitary road, that, where any +spectacle is well worth looking at), and at first, as they approach, I +see no more than that they are six soldiers with a tall man bound, and +that they are almost black to my sight--except on the side of the sun +going to bed, where they have a red edge, messieurs. Also, I see that +their long shadows are on the hollow ridge on the opposite side of the +road, and are on the hill above it, and are like the shadows of giants. +Also, I see that they are covered with dust, and that the dust moves +with them as they come, tramp, tramp! But when they advance quite near +to me, I recognise the tall man, and he recognises me. Ah, but he would +be well content to precipitate himself over the hill-side once again, as +on the evening when he and I first encountered, close to the same spot!” + +He described it as if he were there, and it was evident that he saw it +vividly; perhaps he had not seen much in his life. + +“I do not show the soldiers that I recognise the tall man; he does not +show the soldiers that he recognises me; we do it, and we know it, with +our eyes. 'Come on!' says the chief of that company, pointing to the +village, 'bring him fast to his tomb!' and they bring him faster. I +follow. His arms are swelled because of being bound so tight, his wooden +shoes are large and clumsy, and he is lame. Because he is lame, and +consequently slow, they drive him with their guns--like this!” + +He imitated the action of a man's being impelled forward by the +butt-ends of muskets. + +“As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, he falls. They +laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleeding and covered with dust, +but he cannot touch it; thereupon they laugh again. They bring him into +the village; all the village runs to look; they take him past the mill, +and up to the prison; all the village sees the prison gate open in the +darkness of the night, and swallow him--like this!” + +He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and shut it with a sounding +snap of his teeth. Observant of his unwillingness to mar the effect by +opening it again, Defarge said, “Go on, Jacques.” + +“All the village,” pursued the mender of roads, on tiptoe and in a low +voice, “withdraws; all the village whispers by the fountain; all the +village sleeps; all the village dreams of that unhappy one, within the +locks and bars of the prison on the crag, and never to come out of it, +except to perish. In the morning, with my tools upon my shoulder, eating +my morsel of black bread as I go, I make a circuit by the prison, on +my way to my work. There I see him, high up, behind the bars of a lofty +iron cage, bloody and dusty as last night, looking through. He has no +hand free, to wave to me; I dare not call to him; he regards me like a +dead man.” + +Defarge and the three glanced darkly at one another. The looks of all +of them were dark, repressed, and revengeful, as they listened to the +countryman's story; the manner of all of them, while it was secret, was +authoritative too. They had the air of a rough tribunal; Jacques One +and Two sitting on the old pallet-bed, each with his chin resting on +his hand, and his eyes intent on the road-mender; Jacques Three, equally +intent, on one knee behind them, with his agitated hand always gliding +over the network of fine nerves about his mouth and nose; Defarge +standing between them and the narrator, whom he had stationed in the +light of the window, by turns looking from him to them, and from them to +him. + +“Go on, Jacques,” said Defarge. + +“He remains up there in his iron cage some days. The village looks +at him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from a +distance, at the prison on the crag; and in the evening, when the work +of the day is achieved and it assembles to gossip at the fountain, all +faces are turned towards the prison. Formerly, they were turned towards +the posting-house; now, they are turned towards the prison. They +whisper at the fountain, that although condemned to death he will not be +executed; they say that petitions have been presented in Paris, showing +that he was enraged and made mad by the death of his child; they say +that a petition has been presented to the King himself. What do I know? +It is possible. Perhaps yes, perhaps no.” + +“Listen then, Jacques,” Number One of that name sternly interposed. +“Know that a petition was presented to the King and Queen. All here, +yourself excepted, saw the King take it, in his carriage in the street, +sitting beside the Queen. It is Defarge whom you see here, who, at the +hazard of his life, darted out before the horses, with the petition in +his hand.” + +“And once again listen, Jacques!” said the kneeling Number Three: +his fingers ever wandering over and over those fine nerves, with a +strikingly greedy air, as if he hungered for something--that was neither +food nor drink; “the guard, horse and foot, surrounded the petitioner, +and struck him blows. You hear?” + +“I hear, messieurs.” + +“Go on then,” said Defarge. + +“Again; on the other hand, they whisper at the fountain,” resumed the +countryman, “that he is brought down into our country to be executed on +the spot, and that he will very certainly be executed. They even whisper +that because he has slain Monseigneur, and because Monseigneur was the +father of his tenants--serfs--what you will--he will be executed as a +parricide. One old man says at the fountain, that his right hand, armed +with the knife, will be burnt off before his face; that, into wounds +which will be made in his arms, his breast, and his legs, there will be +poured boiling oil, melted lead, hot resin, wax, and sulphur; finally, +that he will be torn limb from limb by four strong horses. That old man +says, all this was actually done to a prisoner who made an attempt on +the life of the late King, Louis Fifteen. But how do I know if he lies? +I am not a scholar.” + +“Listen once again then, Jacques!” said the man with the restless hand +and the craving air. “The name of that prisoner was Damiens, and it was +all done in open day, in the open streets of this city of Paris; and +nothing was more noticed in the vast concourse that saw it done, than +the crowd of ladies of quality and fashion, who were full of eager +attention to the last--to the last, Jacques, prolonged until nightfall, +when he had lost two legs and an arm, and still breathed! And it was +done--why, how old are you?” + +“Thirty-five,” said the mender of roads, who looked sixty. + +“It was done when you were more than ten years old; you might have seen +it.” + +“Enough!” said Defarge, with grim impatience. “Long live the Devil! Go +on.” + +“Well! Some whisper this, some whisper that; they speak of nothing else; +even the fountain appears to fall to that tune. At length, on Sunday +night when all the village is asleep, come soldiers, winding down from +the prison, and their guns ring on the stones of the little street. +Workmen dig, workmen hammer, soldiers laugh and sing; in the morning, by +the fountain, there is raised a gallows forty feet high, poisoning the +water.” + +The mender of roads looked _through_ rather than _at_ the low ceiling, +and pointed as if he saw the gallows somewhere in the sky. + +“All work is stopped, all assemble there, nobody leads the cows out, +the cows are there with the rest. At midday, the roll of drums. Soldiers +have marched into the prison in the night, and he is in the midst +of many soldiers. He is bound as before, and in his mouth there is +a gag--tied so, with a tight string, making him look almost as if he +laughed.” He suggested it, by creasing his face with his two thumbs, +from the corners of his mouth to his ears. “On the top of the gallows is +fixed the knife, blade upwards, with its point in the air. He is hanged +there forty feet high--and is left hanging, poisoning the water.” + +They looked at one another, as he used his blue cap to wipe his face, +on which the perspiration had started afresh while he recalled the +spectacle. + +“It is frightful, messieurs. How can the women and the children draw +water! Who can gossip of an evening, under that shadow! Under it, have +I said? When I left the village, Monday evening as the sun was going to +bed, and looked back from the hill, the shadow struck across the church, +across the mill, across the prison--seemed to strike across the earth, +messieurs, to where the sky rests upon it!” + +The hungry man gnawed one of his fingers as he looked at the other +three, and his finger quivered with the craving that was on him. + +“That's all, messieurs. I left at sunset (as I had been warned to do), +and I walked on, that night and half next day, until I met (as I was +warned I should) this comrade. With him, I came on, now riding and now +walking, through the rest of yesterday and through last night. And here +you see me!” + +After a gloomy silence, the first Jacques said, “Good! You have acted +and recounted faithfully. Will you wait for us a little, outside the +door?” + +“Very willingly,” said the mender of roads. Whom Defarge escorted to the +top of the stairs, and, leaving seated there, returned. + +The three had risen, and their heads were together when he came back to +the garret. + +“How say you, Jacques?” demanded Number One. “To be registered?” + +“To be registered, as doomed to destruction,” returned Defarge. + +“Magnificent!” croaked the man with the craving. + +“The chateau, and all the race?” inquired the first. + +“The chateau and all the race,” returned Defarge. “Extermination.” + +The hungry man repeated, in a rapturous croak, “Magnificent!” and began +gnawing another finger. + +“Are you sure,” asked Jacques Two, of Defarge, “that no embarrassment +can arise from our manner of keeping the register? Without doubt it is +safe, for no one beyond ourselves can decipher it; but shall we always +be able to decipher it--or, I ought to say, will she?” + +“Jacques,” returned Defarge, drawing himself up, “if madame my wife +undertook to keep the register in her memory alone, she would not lose +a word of it--not a syllable of it. Knitted, in her own stitches and her +own symbols, it will always be as plain to her as the sun. Confide in +Madame Defarge. It would be easier for the weakest poltroon that lives, +to erase himself from existence, than to erase one letter of his name or +crimes from the knitted register of Madame Defarge.” + +There was a murmur of confidence and approval, and then the man who +hungered, asked: “Is this rustic to be sent back soon? I hope so. He is +very simple; is he not a little dangerous?” + +“He knows nothing,” said Defarge; “at least nothing more than would +easily elevate himself to a gallows of the same height. I charge myself +with him; let him remain with me; I will take care of him, and set him +on his road. He wishes to see the fine world--the King, the Queen, and +Court; let him see them on Sunday.” + +“What?” exclaimed the hungry man, staring. “Is it a good sign, that he +wishes to see Royalty and Nobility?” + +“Jacques,” said Defarge; “judiciously show a cat milk, if you wish her +to thirst for it. Judiciously show a dog his natural prey, if you wish +him to bring it down one day.” + +Nothing more was said, and the mender of roads, being found already +dozing on the topmost stair, was advised to lay himself down on the +pallet-bed and take some rest. He needed no persuasion, and was soon +asleep. + +Worse quarters than Defarge's wine-shop, could easily have been found +in Paris for a provincial slave of that degree. Saving for a mysterious +dread of madame by which he was constantly haunted, his life was very +new and agreeable. But, madame sat all day at her counter, so expressly +unconscious of him, and so particularly determined not to perceive that +his being there had any connection with anything below the surface, that +he shook in his wooden shoes whenever his eye lighted on her. For, he +contended with himself that it was impossible to foresee what that lady +might pretend next; and he felt assured that if she should take it +into her brightly ornamented head to pretend that she had seen him do a +murder and afterwards flay the victim, she would infallibly go through +with it until the play was played out. + +Therefore, when Sunday came, the mender of roads was not enchanted +(though he said he was) to find that madame was to accompany monsieur +and himself to Versailles. It was additionally disconcerting to have +madame knitting all the way there, in a public conveyance; it was +additionally disconcerting yet, to have madame in the crowd in the +afternoon, still with her knitting in her hands as the crowd waited to +see the carriage of the King and Queen. + +“You work hard, madame,” said a man near her. + +“Yes,” answered Madame Defarge; “I have a good deal to do.” + +“What do you make, madame?” + +“Many things.” + +“For instance--” + +“For instance,” returned Madame Defarge, composedly, “shrouds.” + +The man moved a little further away, as soon as he could, and the mender +of roads fanned himself with his blue cap: feeling it mightily close +and oppressive. If he needed a King and Queen to restore him, he was +fortunate in having his remedy at hand; for, soon the large-faced King +and the fair-faced Queen came in their golden coach, attended by the +shining Bull's Eye of their Court, a glittering multitude of laughing +ladies and fine lords; and in jewels and silks and powder and splendour +and elegantly spurning figures and handsomely disdainful faces of both +sexes, the mender of roads bathed himself, so much to his temporary +intoxication, that he cried Long live the King, Long live the Queen, +Long live everybody and everything! as if he had never heard of +ubiquitous Jacques in his time. Then, there were gardens, courtyards, +terraces, fountains, green banks, more King and Queen, more Bull's Eye, +more lords and ladies, more Long live they all! until he absolutely wept +with sentiment. During the whole of this scene, which lasted some three +hours, he had plenty of shouting and weeping and sentimental company, +and throughout Defarge held him by the collar, as if to restrain him +from flying at the objects of his brief devotion and tearing them to +pieces. + +“Bravo!” said Defarge, clapping him on the back when it was over, like a +patron; “you are a good boy!” + +The mender of roads was now coming to himself, and was mistrustful of +having made a mistake in his late demonstrations; but no. + +“You are the fellow we want,” said Defarge, in his ear; “you make +these fools believe that it will last for ever. Then, they are the more +insolent, and it is the nearer ended.” + +“Hey!” cried the mender of roads, reflectively; “that's true.” + +“These fools know nothing. While they despise your breath, and would +stop it for ever and ever, in you or in a hundred like you rather than +in one of their own horses or dogs, they only know what your breath +tells them. Let it deceive them, then, a little longer; it cannot +deceive them too much.” + +Madame Defarge looked superciliously at the client, and nodded in +confirmation. + +“As to you,” said she, “you would shout and shed tears for anything, if +it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?” + +“Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment.” + +“If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set upon them to +pluck them to pieces and despoil them for your own advantage, you would +pick out the richest and gayest. Say! Would you not?” + +“Truly yes, madame.” + +“Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly, and were +set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage, +you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?” + +“It is true, madame.” + +“You have seen both dolls and birds to-day,” said Madame Defarge, with +a wave of her hand towards the place where they had last been apparent; +“now, go home!” + + + + +XVI. Still Knitting + + +Madame Defarge and monsieur her husband returned amicably to the +bosom of Saint Antoine, while a speck in a blue cap toiled through the +darkness, and through the dust, and down the weary miles of avenue by +the wayside, slowly tending towards that point of the compass where +the chateau of Monsieur the Marquis, now in his grave, listened to +the whispering trees. Such ample leisure had the stone faces, now, +for listening to the trees and to the fountain, that the few village +scarecrows who, in their quest for herbs to eat and fragments of dead +stick to burn, strayed within sight of the great stone courtyard and +terrace staircase, had it borne in upon their starved fancy that +the expression of the faces was altered. A rumour just lived in the +village--had a faint and bare existence there, as its people had--that +when the knife struck home, the faces changed, from faces of pride to +faces of anger and pain; also, that when that dangling figure was hauled +up forty feet above the fountain, they changed again, and bore a cruel +look of being avenged, which they would henceforth bear for ever. In the +stone face over the great window of the bed-chamber where the murder +was done, two fine dints were pointed out in the sculptured nose, which +everybody recognised, and which nobody had seen of old; and on the +scarce occasions when two or three ragged peasants emerged from the +crowd to take a hurried peep at Monsieur the Marquis petrified, a +skinny finger would not have pointed to it for a minute, before they all +started away among the moss and leaves, like the more fortunate hares +who could find a living there. + +Chateau and hut, stone face and dangling figure, the red stain on the +stone floor, and the pure water in the village well--thousands of acres +of land--a whole province of France--all France itself--lay under the +night sky, concentrated into a faint hair-breadth line. So does a whole +world, with all its greatnesses and littlenesses, lie in a twinkling +star. And as mere human knowledge can split a ray of light and analyse +the manner of its composition, so, sublimer intelligences may read in +the feeble shining of this earth of ours, every thought and act, every +vice and virtue, of every responsible creature on it. + +The Defarges, husband and wife, came lumbering under the starlight, +in their public vehicle, to that gate of Paris whereunto their +journey naturally tended. There was the usual stoppage at the barrier +guardhouse, and the usual lanterns came glancing forth for the usual +examination and inquiry. Monsieur Defarge alighted; knowing one or two +of the soldiery there, and one of the police. The latter he was intimate +with, and affectionately embraced. + +When Saint Antoine had again enfolded the Defarges in his dusky wings, +and they, having finally alighted near the Saint's boundaries, were +picking their way on foot through the black mud and offal of his +streets, Madame Defarge spoke to her husband: + +“Say then, my friend; what did Jacques of the police tell thee?” + +“Very little to-night, but all he knows. There is another spy +commissioned for our quarter. There may be many more, for all that he +can say, but he knows of one.” + +“Eh well!” said Madame Defarge, raising her eyebrows with a cool +business air. “It is necessary to register him. How do they call that +man?” + +“He is English.” + +“So much the better. His name?” + +“Barsad,” said Defarge, making it French by pronunciation. But, he had +been so careful to get it accurately, that he then spelt it with perfect +correctness. + +“Barsad,” repeated madame. “Good. Christian name?” + +“John.” + +“John Barsad,” repeated madame, after murmuring it once to herself. +“Good. His appearance; is it known?” + +“Age, about forty years; height, about five feet nine; black hair; +complexion dark; generally, rather handsome visage; eyes dark, face +thin, long, and sallow; nose aquiline, but not straight, having a +peculiar inclination towards the left cheek; expression, therefore, +sinister.” + +“Eh my faith. It is a portrait!” said madame, laughing. “He shall be +registered to-morrow.” + +They turned into the wine-shop, which was closed (for it was midnight), +and where Madame Defarge immediately took her post at her desk, counted +the small moneys that had been taken during her absence, examined the +stock, went through the entries in the book, made other entries of +her own, checked the serving man in every possible way, and finally +dismissed him to bed. Then she turned out the contents of the bowl +of money for the second time, and began knotting them up in her +handkerchief, in a chain of separate knots, for safe keeping through the +night. All this while, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walked +up and down, complacently admiring, but never interfering; in which +condition, indeed, as to the business and his domestic affairs, he +walked up and down through life. + +The night was hot, and the shop, close shut and surrounded by so foul a +neighbourhood, was ill-smelling. Monsieur Defarge's olfactory sense was +by no means delicate, but the stock of wine smelt much stronger than +it ever tasted, and so did the stock of rum and brandy and aniseed. He +whiffed the compound of scents away, as he put down his smoked-out pipe. + +“You are fatigued,” said madame, raising her glance as she knotted the +money. “There are only the usual odours.” + +“I am a little tired,” her husband acknowledged. + +“You are a little depressed, too,” said madame, whose quick eyes had +never been so intent on the accounts, but they had had a ray or two for +him. “Oh, the men, the men!” + +“But my dear!” began Defarge. + +“But my dear!” repeated madame, nodding firmly; “but my dear! You are +faint of heart to-night, my dear!” + +“Well, then,” said Defarge, as if a thought were wrung out of his +breast, “it _is_ a long time.” + +“It is a long time,” repeated his wife; “and when is it not a long time? +Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule.” + +“It does not take a long time to strike a man with Lightning,” said +Defarge. + +“How long,” demanded madame, composedly, “does it take to make and store +the lightning? Tell me.” + +Defarge raised his head thoughtfully, as if there were something in that +too. + +“It does not take a long time,” said madame, “for an earthquake to +swallow a town. Eh well! Tell me how long it takes to prepare the +earthquake?” + +“A long time, I suppose,” said Defarge. + +“But when it is ready, it takes place, and grinds to pieces everything +before it. In the meantime, it is always preparing, though it is not +seen or heard. That is your consolation. Keep it.” + +She tied a knot with flashing eyes, as if it throttled a foe. + +“I tell thee,” said madame, extending her right hand, for emphasis, +“that although it is a long time on the road, it is on the road and +coming. I tell thee it never retreats, and never stops. I tell thee it +is always advancing. Look around and consider the lives of all the world +that we know, consider the faces of all the world that we know, consider +the rage and discontent to which the Jacquerie 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 head +a little bent, and his hands clasped at his back, like a docile and +attentive pupil before his catechist, “I do not question all this. But +it 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.” + +“Eh well! How then?” demanded madame, tying another knot, as if there +were another enemy strangled. + +“Well!” said Defarge, with a half complaining and half apologetic shrug. +“We shall not see the triumph.” + +“We shall have helped it,” returned madame, with her extended hand in +strong action. “Nothing that we do, is done in vain. I believe, with all +my soul, that we shall see the triumph. But even if not, even if I knew +certainly not, show me the neck of an aristocrat and tyrant, and still I +would--” + +Then madame, with her teeth set, tied a very terrible knot indeed. + +“Hold!” cried Defarge, reddening a little as if he felt charged with +cowardice; “I too, my dear, will stop at nothing.” + +“Yes! But it is your weakness that you sometimes need to see your victim +and your opportunity, to sustain you. Sustain yourself without 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 striking her +little counter with her chain of money as if she knocked its brains +out, and then gathering the heavy handkerchief under her arm in a serene +manner, and observing that it was time to go to bed. + +Next noontide saw the admirable woman in her usual place in the +wine-shop, knitting away assiduously. A rose lay beside her, and if she +now and then glanced at the flower, it was with no infraction of her +usual preoccupied air. There were a few customers, drinking or not +drinking, standing or seated, sprinkled about. The day was very hot, +and heaps of flies, who were extending their inquisitive and adventurous +perquisitions into all the glutinous little glasses near madame, fell +dead at the bottom. Their decease made no impression on the other flies +out promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they +themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until they met +the same fate. Curious to consider how heedless flies are!--perhaps they +thought as much at Court that sunny summer day. + +A figure entering at the door threw a shadow on Madame Defarge which she +felt to be a new one. She laid down her knitting, and began to pin her +rose in her head-dress, before she looked at the figure. + +It was curious. The moment Madame Defarge took up the rose, the +customers ceased talking, and began gradually to drop out of the +wine-shop. + +“Good day, madame,” said the new-comer. + +“Good day, monsieur.” + +She said it aloud, but added to herself, as she resumed her knitting: +“Hah! Good day, age about forty, height about five feet nine, black +hair, generally rather handsome visage, complexion dark, eyes dark, +thin, long and sallow face, aquiline nose but not straight, having a +peculiar inclination towards the left cheek which imparts a sinister +expression! Good day, one and all!” + +“Have the goodness to give me a little glass of old cognac, and a +mouthful of cool fresh water, madame.” + +Madame complied with a polite air. + +“Marvellous cognac this, madame!” + +It was the first time it had ever been so complimented, and Madame +Defarge knew enough of its antecedents to know better. She said, +however, that the cognac was flattered, and took up her knitting. The +visitor watched her fingers for a few moments, and took the opportunity +of observing the place in general. + +“You knit with great skill, madame.” + +“I am accustomed to it.” + +“A pretty pattern too!” + +“_You_ think so?” said madame, looking at him with a smile. + +“Decidedly. May one ask what it is for?” + +“Pastime,” said madame, still looking at him with a smile while her +fingers moved nimbly. + +“Not for use?” + +“That depends. I may find a use for it one day. If I do--Well,” said +madame, drawing a breath and nodding her head with a stern kind of +coquetry, “I'll use it!” + +It was remarkable; but, the taste of Saint Antoine seemed to be +decidedly opposed to a rose on the head-dress of Madame Defarge. Two +men had entered separately, and had been about to order drink, when, +catching sight of that novelty, they faltered, made a pretence of +looking about as if for some friend who was not there, and went away. +Nor, of those who had been there when this visitor entered, was there +one left. They had all dropped off. The spy had kept his eyes open, +but had been able to detect no sign. They had lounged away in a +poverty-stricken, purposeless, accidental manner, quite natural and +unimpeachable. + +“_John_,” thought madame, checking off her work as her fingers knitted, +and her eyes looked at the stranger. “Stay long enough, and I shall knit +'BARSAD' before you go.” + +“You have a husband, madame?” + +“I have.” + +“Children?” + +“No children.” + +“Business seems bad?” + +“Business is very bad; the people are so poor.” + +“Ah, the unfortunate, miserable people! So oppressed, too--as you say.” + +“As _you_ say,” madame retorted, correcting him, and deftly knitting an +extra something into his name that boded him no good. + +“Pardon me; certainly it was I who said so, but you naturally think so. +Of course.” + +“_I_ think?” returned madame, in a high voice. “I and my husband have +enough to do to keep this wine-shop open, without thinking. All we +think, here, is how to live. That is the subject _we_ think of, and +it gives us, from morning to night, enough to think about, without +embarrassing our heads concerning others. _I_ think for others? No, no.” + +The spy, who was there to pick up any crumbs he could find or make, did +not allow his baffled state to express itself in his sinister face; but, +stood with an air of gossiping gallantry, leaning his elbow on Madame +Defarge's little counter, and occasionally sipping his cognac. + +“A bad business this, madame, of Gaspard's execution. Ah! the poor +Gaspard!” With a sigh of great compassion. + +“My faith!” returned madame, coolly and lightly, “if people use knives +for such purposes, they have to pay for it. He knew beforehand what the +price of his luxury was; he has paid the price.” + +“I believe,” said the spy, dropping his soft voice to a tone +that invited confidence, and expressing an injured revolutionary +susceptibility in every muscle of his wicked face: “I believe there +is much compassion and anger in this neighbourhood, touching the poor +fellow? Between ourselves.” + +“Is there?” asked madame, vacantly. + +“Is there not?” + +“--Here is my husband!” said Madame Defarge. + +As the keeper of the wine-shop entered at the door, the spy saluted +him by touching his hat, and saying, with an engaging smile, “Good day, +Jacques!” Defarge stopped short, and stared at him. + +“Good day, Jacques!” the spy repeated; with not quite so much +confidence, or quite so easy a smile under the stare. + +“You deceive yourself, monsieur,” returned the keeper of the wine-shop. +“You mistake me for another. That is not my name. I am Ernest Defarge.” + +“It is all the same,” said the spy, airily, but discomfited too: “good +day!” + +“Good day!” answered Defarge, drily. + +“I was saying to madame, with whom I had the pleasure of chatting when +you entered, that they tell me there is--and no wonder!--much sympathy +and anger in Saint Antoine, touching the unhappy fate of poor Gaspard.” + +“No one has told me so,” said Defarge, shaking his head. “I know nothing +of it.” + +Having said it, he passed behind the little counter, and stood with his +hand on the back of his wife's chair, looking over that barrier at the +person to whom they were both opposed, and whom either of them would +have shot with the greatest satisfaction. + +The spy, well used to his business, did not change his unconscious +attitude, but drained his little glass of cognac, took a sip of fresh +water, and asked for another glass of cognac. Madame Defarge poured it +out for him, took to her knitting again, and hummed a little song over +it. + +“You seem to know this quarter well; that is to say, better than I do?” + observed Defarge. + +“Not at all, but I hope to know it better. I am so profoundly interested +in its miserable inhabitants.” + +“Hah!” muttered Defarge. + +“The pleasure of conversing with you, Monsieur Defarge, recalls to me,” + pursued the spy, “that I have the honour of cherishing some interesting +associations with your name.” + +“Indeed!” said Defarge, with much indifference. + +“Yes, indeed. When Doctor Manette was released, you, his old domestic, +had the charge of him, I know. He was delivered to you. You see I am +informed of the circumstances?” + +“Such is the fact, certainly,” said Defarge. He had had it conveyed +to him, in an accidental touch of his wife's elbow as she knitted and +warbled, that he would do best to answer, but always with brevity. + +“It was to you,” said the spy, “that his daughter came; and it was +from your care that his daughter took him, accompanied by a neat brown +monsieur; how is he called?--in a little wig--Lorry--of the bank of +Tellson and Company--over to England.” + +“Such is the fact,” repeated Defarge. + +“Very interesting remembrances!” said the spy. “I have known Doctor +Manette and his daughter, in England.” + +“Yes?” said Defarge. + +“You don't hear much about them now?” said the spy. + +“No,” said Defarge. + +“In effect,” madame struck in, looking up from her work and her little +song, “we never hear about them. We received the news of their safe +arrival, and perhaps another letter, or perhaps two; but, since then, +they have gradually taken their road in life--we, ours--and we have held +no correspondence.” + +“Perfectly so, madame,” replied the spy. “She is going to be married.” + +“Going?” echoed madame. “She was pretty enough to have been married long +ago. You English are cold, it seems to me.” + +“Oh! You know I am English.” + +“I perceive your tongue is,” returned madame; “and what the tongue is, I +suppose the man is.” + +He did not take the identification as a compliment; but he made the best +of it, and turned it off with a laugh. After sipping his cognac to the +end, he added: + +“Yes, Miss Manette is going to be married. But not to an Englishman; to +one who, like herself, is French by birth. And speaking of Gaspard (ah, +poor Gaspard! It was cruel, cruel!), it is a curious thing that she is +going to marry the nephew of Monsieur the Marquis, for whom Gaspard +was exalted to that height of so many feet; in other words, the present +Marquis. But he lives unknown in England, he is no Marquis there; he is +Mr. Charles Darnay. D'Aulnais is the name of his mother's family.” + +Madame Defarge knitted steadily, but the intelligence had a palpable +effect upon her husband. Do what he would, behind the little counter, +as to the striking of a light and the lighting of his pipe, he was +troubled, and his hand was not trustworthy. The spy would have been no +spy if he had failed to see it, or to record it in his mind. + +Having made, at least, this one hit, whatever it might prove to be +worth, and no customers coming in to help him to any other, Mr. Barsad +paid for what he had drunk, and took his leave: taking occasion to say, +in a genteel manner, before he departed, that he looked forward to the +pleasure of seeing Monsieur and Madame Defarge again. For some minutes +after he had emerged into the outer presence of Saint Antoine, the +husband and wife remained exactly as he had left them, lest he should +come back. + +“Can it be true,” said Defarge, in a low voice, looking down at his wife +as he stood smoking with his hand on the back of her chair: “what he has +said of Ma'amselle Manette?” + +“As he has said it,” returned madame, lifting her eyebrows a little, “it +is probably false. But it may be true.” + +“If it is--” Defarge began, and stopped. + +“If it is?” repeated his wife. + +“--And if it does come, while we live to see it triumph--I hope, for her +sake, Destiny will keep her husband out of France.” + +“Her husband's destiny,” said Madame Defarge, with her usual composure, +“will take him where he is to go, and will lead him to the end that is +to end him. That is all I know.” + +“But it is very strange--now, at least, is it not very strange”--said +Defarge, rather pleading with his wife to induce her to admit it, +“that, after all our sympathy for Monsieur her father, and herself, her +husband's name should be proscribed under your hand at this moment, by +the side of that infernal dog's who has just left us?” + +“Stranger things than that will happen when it does come,” answered +madame. “I have them both here, of a certainty; and they are both here +for their merits; that is enough.” + +She rolled up her knitting when she had said those words, and presently +took the rose out of the handkerchief that was wound about her head. +Either Saint Antoine had an instinctive sense that the objectionable +decoration was gone, or Saint Antoine was on the watch for its +disappearance; howbeit, the Saint took courage to lounge in, very +shortly afterwards, and the wine-shop recovered its habitual aspect. + +In the evening, at which season of all others Saint Antoine turned +himself inside out, and sat on door-steps and window-ledges, and came +to the corners of vile streets and courts, for a breath of air, Madame +Defarge with her work in her hand was accustomed to pass from place +to place and from group to group: a Missionary--there were many like +her--such as the world will do well never to breed again. All the women +knitted. They knitted worthless things; but, the mechanical work was a +mechanical substitute for eating and drinking; the hands moved for the +jaws and the digestive apparatus: if the bony fingers had been still, +the stomachs would have been more famine-pinched. + +But, as the fingers went, the eyes went, and the thoughts. And as Madame +Defarge moved on from group to group, all three went quicker and fiercer +among every little knot of women that she had spoken with, and left +behind. + +Her husband smoked at his door, looking after her with admiration. “A +great woman,” said he, “a strong woman, a grand woman, a frightfully +grand woman!” + +Darkness closed around, and then came the ringing of church bells and +the distant beating of the military drums in the Palace Courtyard, as +the women sat knitting, knitting. Darkness encompassed them. Another +darkness was closing in as surely, when the church bells, then ringing +pleasantly in many an airy steeple over France, should be melted into +thundering cannon; when the military drums should be beating to drown a +wretched voice, that night all potent as the voice of Power and Plenty, +Freedom and Life. So much was closing in about the women who sat +knitting, knitting, that they their very selves were closing in around +a structure yet unbuilt, where they were to sit knitting, knitting, +counting dropping heads. + + + + +XVII. One Night + + +Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in +Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter sat +under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder +radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still +seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves. + +Lucie was to be married to-morrow. She had reserved this last evening +for her father, and they sat alone under the plane-tree. + +“You are happy, my dear father?” + +“Quite, my child.” + +They had said little, though they had been there a long time. When it +was yet light enough to work and read, she had neither engaged herself +in her usual work, nor had she read to him. She had employed herself in +both ways, at his side under the tree, many and many a time; but, this +time was not quite like any other, and nothing could make it so. + +“And I am very happy to-night, dear father. I am deeply happy in the +love that Heaven has so blessed--my love for Charles, and Charles's love +for me. But, if my life were not to be still consecrated to you, or +if my marriage were so arranged as that it would part us, even by +the length of a few of these streets, I should be more unhappy and +self-reproachful now than I can tell you. Even as it is--” + +Even as it was, she could not command her voice. + +In the sad moonlight, she clasped him by the neck, and laid her face +upon his breast. In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of +the sun itself is--as the light called human life is--at its coming and +its going. + +“Dearest dear! Can you tell me, this last time, that you feel quite, +quite sure, no new affections of mine, and no new duties of mine, will +ever interpose between us? _I_ know it well, but do you know it? In your +own heart, do you feel quite certain?” + +Her father answered, with a cheerful firmness of conviction he could +scarcely have assumed, “Quite sure, my darling! More than that,” he +added, as he tenderly kissed her: “my future is far brighter, Lucie, +seen through your marriage, than it could have been--nay, than it ever +was--without it.” + +“If I could hope _that_, my father!--” + +“Believe it, love! Indeed it is so. Consider how natural and how plain +it is, my dear, that it should be so. You, devoted and young, cannot +fully appreciate the anxiety I have felt that your life should not be +wasted--” + +She moved her hand towards his lips, but he took it in his, and repeated +the word. + +“--wasted, my child--should not be wasted, struck aside from the +natural order of things--for my sake. Your unselfishness cannot entirely +comprehend how much my mind has gone on this; but, only ask yourself, +how could my happiness be perfect, while yours was incomplete?” + +“If I had never seen Charles, my father, I should have been quite happy +with you.” + +He smiled at her unconscious admission that she would have been unhappy +without Charles, having seen him; and replied: + +“My child, you did see him, and it is Charles. If it had not been +Charles, it would have been another. Or, if it had been no other, I +should have been the cause, and then the dark part of my life would have +cast its shadow beyond myself, and would have fallen on you.” + +It was the first time, except at the trial, of her ever hearing him +refer to the period of his suffering. It gave her a strange and new +sensation while his words were in her ears; and she remembered it long +afterwards. + +“See!” said the Doctor of Beauvais, raising his hand towards the moon. +“I have looked at her from my prison-window, when I could not bear her +light. I have looked at her when it has been such torture to me to think +of her shining upon what I had lost, that I have beaten my head against +my prison-walls. I have looked at her, in a state so dull and lethargic, +that I have thought of nothing but the number of horizontal lines I +could draw across her at the full, and the number of perpendicular lines +with which I could intersect them.” He added in his inward and pondering +manner, as he looked at the moon, “It was twenty either way, I remember, +and the twentieth was difficult to squeeze in.” + +The strange thrill with which she heard him go back to that time, +deepened as he dwelt upon it; but, there was nothing to shock her in +the manner of his reference. He only seemed to contrast his present +cheerfulness and felicity with the dire endurance that was over. + +“I have looked at her, speculating thousands of times upon the unborn +child from whom I had been rent. Whether it was alive. Whether it had +been born alive, or the poor mother's shock had killed it. Whether it +was a son who would some day avenge his father. (There was a time in my +imprisonment, when my desire for vengeance was unbearable.) Whether it +was a son who would never know his father's story; who might even live +to weigh the possibility of his father's having disappeared of his own +will and act. Whether it was a daughter who would grow to be a woman.” + +She drew closer to him, and kissed his cheek and his hand. + +“I have pictured my daughter, to myself, as perfectly forgetful of +me--rather, altogether ignorant of me, and unconscious of me. I have +cast up the years of her age, year after year. I have seen her married +to a man who knew nothing of my fate. I have altogether perished from +the remembrance of the living, and in the next generation my place was a +blank.” + +“My father! Even to hear that you had such thoughts of a daughter who +never existed, strikes to my heart as if I had been that child.” + +“You, Lucie? It is out of the Consolation and restoration you have +brought to me, that these remembrances arise, and pass between us and +the moon on this last night.--What did I say just now?” + +“She knew nothing of you. She cared nothing for you.” + +“So! But on other moonlight nights, when the sadness and the silence +have touched me in a different way--have affected me with something as +like a sorrowful sense of peace, as any emotion that had pain for its +foundations could--I have imagined her as coming to me in my cell, and +leading me out into the freedom beyond the fortress. I have seen her +image in the moonlight often, as I now see you; except that I never held +her in my arms; it stood between the little grated window and the door. +But, you understand that that was not the child I am speaking of?” + +“The figure was not; the--the--image; the fancy?” + +“No. That was another thing. It stood before my disturbed sense of +sight, but it never moved. The phantom that my mind pursued, was another +and more real child. Of her outward appearance I know no more than +that she was like her mother. The other had that likeness too--as you +have--but was not the same. Can you follow me, Lucie? Hardly, I think? +I doubt you must have been a solitary prisoner to understand these +perplexed distinctions.” + +His collected and calm manner could not prevent her blood from running +cold, as he thus tried to anatomise his old condition. + +“In that more peaceful state, I have imagined her, in the moonlight, +coming to me and taking me out to show me that the home of her married +life was full of her loving remembrance of her lost father. My picture +was in her room, and I was in her prayers. Her life was active, +cheerful, useful; but my poor history pervaded it all.” + +“I was that child, my father, I was not half so good, but in my love +that was I.” + +“And she showed me her children,” said the Doctor of Beauvais, “and +they had heard of me, and had been taught to pity me. When they passed +a prison of the State, they kept far from its frowning walls, and looked +up at its bars, and spoke in whispers. She could never deliver me; I +imagined that she always brought me back after showing me such things. +But then, blessed with the relief of tears, I fell upon my knees, and +blessed her.” + +“I am that child, I hope, my father. O my dear, my dear, will you bless +me as fervently to-morrow?” + +“Lucie, I recall these old troubles in the reason that I have to-night +for loving you better than words can tell, and thanking God for my great +happiness. My thoughts, when they were wildest, never rose near the +happiness that I have known with you, and that we have before us.” + +He embraced her, solemnly commended her to Heaven, and humbly thanked +Heaven for having bestowed her on him. By-and-bye, they went into the +house. + +There was no one bidden to the marriage but Mr. Lorry; there was even to +be no bridesmaid but the gaunt Miss Pross. The marriage was to make no +change in their place of residence; they had been able to extend it, +by taking to themselves the upper rooms formerly belonging to the +apocryphal invisible lodger, and they desired nothing more. + +Doctor Manette was very cheerful at the little supper. They were only +three at table, and Miss Pross made the third. He regretted that Charles +was not there; was more than half disposed to object to the loving +little plot that kept him away; and drank to him affectionately. + +So, the time came for him to bid Lucie good night, and they separated. +But, in the stillness of the third hour of the morning, Lucie came +downstairs again, and stole into his room; not free from unshaped fears, +beforehand. + +All things, however, were in their places; all was quiet; and he lay +asleep, his white hair picturesque on the untroubled pillow, and his +hands lying quiet on the coverlet. She put her needless candle in the +shadow at a distance, crept up to his bed, and put her lips to his; +then, leaned over him, and looked at him. + +Into his handsome face, the bitter waters of captivity had worn; but, he +covered up their tracks with a determination so strong, that he held the +mastery of them even in his sleep. A more remarkable face in its quiet, +resolute, and guarded struggle with an unseen assailant, was not to be +beheld in all the wide dominions of sleep, that night. + +She timidly laid her hand on his dear breast, and put up a prayer that +she might ever be as true to him as her love aspired to be, and as his +sorrows deserved. Then, she withdrew her hand, and kissed his lips once +more, and went away. So, the sunrise came, and the shadows of the leaves +of the plane-tree moved upon his face, as softly as her lips had moved +in praying for him. + + + + +XVIII. Nine Days + + +The marriage-day was shining brightly, and they were ready outside the +closed door of the Doctor's room, where he was speaking with Charles +Darnay. They were ready to go to church; the beautiful bride, Mr. +Lorry, and Miss Pross--to whom the event, through a gradual process of +reconcilement to the inevitable, would have been one of absolute bliss, +but for the yet lingering consideration that her brother Solomon should +have been the bridegroom. + +“And so,” said Mr. Lorry, who could not sufficiently admire the bride, +and who had been moving round her to take in every point of her quiet, +pretty dress; “and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I brought +you across the Channel, such a baby! Lord bless me! How little I thought +what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was conferring +on my friend Mr. Charles!” + +“You didn't mean it,” remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, “and +therefore how could you know it? Nonsense!” + +“Really? Well; but don't cry,” said the gentle Mr. Lorry. + +“I am not crying,” said Miss Pross; “_you_ are.” + +“I, my Pross?” (By this time, Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with her, +on occasion.) + +“You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such +a present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into +anybody's eyes. There's not a fork or a spoon in the collection,” said +Miss Pross, “that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came, till +I couldn't see it.” + +“I am highly gratified,” said Mr. Lorry, “though, upon my honour, I +had no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembrance +invisible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a man +speculate on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that there +might have been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!” + +“Not at all!” From Miss Pross. + +“You think there never might have been a Mrs. Lorry?” asked the +gentleman of that name. + +“Pooh!” rejoined Miss Pross; “you were a bachelor in your cradle.” + +“Well!” observed Mr. Lorry, beamingly adjusting his little wig, “that +seems probable, too.” + +“And you were cut out for a bachelor,” pursued Miss Pross, “before you +were put in your cradle.” + +“Then, I think,” said Mr. Lorry, “that I was very unhandsomely dealt +with, and that I ought to have had a voice in the selection of my +pattern. Enough! Now, my dear Lucie,” drawing his arm soothingly round +her waist, “I hear them moving in the next room, and Miss Pross and +I, as two formal folks of business, are anxious not to lose the final +opportunity of saying something to you that you wish to hear. You leave +your good father, my dear, in hands as earnest and as loving as your +own; he shall be taken every conceivable care of; during the next +fortnight, while you are in Warwickshire and thereabouts, even Tellson's +shall go to the wall (comparatively speaking) before him. And when, at +the fortnight's end, he comes to join you and your beloved husband, on +your other fortnight's trip in Wales, you shall say that we have sent +him to you in the best health and in the happiest frame. Now, I hear +Somebody's step coming to the door. Let me kiss my dear girl with an +old-fashioned bachelor blessing, before Somebody comes to claim his +own.” + +For a moment, he held the fair face from him to look at the +well-remembered expression on the forehead, and then laid the bright +golden hair against his little brown wig, with a genuine tenderness and +delicacy which, if such things be old-fashioned, were as old as Adam. + +The door of the Doctor's room opened, and he came out with Charles +Darnay. He was so deadly pale--which had not been the case when they +went in together--that no vestige of colour was to be seen in his face. +But, in the composure of his manner he was unaltered, except that to the +shrewd glance of Mr. Lorry it disclosed some shadowy indication that the +old air of avoidance and dread had lately passed over him, like a cold +wind. + +He gave his arm to his daughter, and took her down-stairs to the chariot +which Mr. Lorry had hired in honour of the day. The rest followed in +another carriage, and soon, in a neighbouring church, where no strange +eyes looked on, Charles Darnay and Lucie Manette were happily married. + +Besides the glancing tears that shone among the smiles of the little +group when it was done, some diamonds, very bright and sparkling, +glanced on the bride's hand, which were newly released from the +dark obscurity of one of Mr. Lorry's pockets. They returned home to +breakfast, and all went well, and in due course the golden hair that had +mingled with the poor shoemaker's white locks in the Paris garret, were +mingled with them again in the morning sunlight, on the threshold of the +door at parting. + +It was a hard parting, though it was not for long. But her father +cheered her, and said at last, gently disengaging himself from her +enfolding arms, “Take her, Charles! She is yours!” + +And her agitated hand waved to them from a chaise window, and she was +gone. + +The corner being out of the way of the idle and curious, and the +preparations having been very simple and few, the Doctor, Mr. Lorry, +and Miss Pross, were left quite alone. It was when they turned into +the welcome shade of the cool old hall, that Mr. Lorry observed a great +change to have come over the Doctor; as if the golden arm uplifted +there, had struck him a poisoned blow. + +He had naturally repressed much, and some revulsion might have been +expected in him when the occasion for repression was gone. But, it was +the old scared lost look that troubled Mr. Lorry; and through his absent +manner of clasping his head and drearily wandering away into his own +room when they got up-stairs, Mr. Lorry was reminded of Defarge the +wine-shop keeper, and the starlight ride. + +“I think,” he whispered to Miss Pross, after anxious consideration, “I +think we had best not speak to him just now, or at all disturb him. +I must look in at Tellson's; so I will go there at once and come back +presently. Then, we will take him a ride into the country, and dine +there, and all will be well.” + +It was easier for Mr. Lorry to look in at Tellson's, than to look out of +Tellson's. He was detained two hours. When he came back, he ascended the +old staircase alone, having asked no question of the servant; going thus +into the Doctor's rooms, he was stopped by a low sound of knocking. + +“Good God!” he said, with a start. “What's that?” + +Miss Pross, with a terrified face, was at his ear. “O me, O me! All is +lost!” cried she, wringing her hands. “What is to be told to Ladybird? +He doesn't know me, and is making shoes!” + +Mr. Lorry said what he could to calm her, and went himself into the +Doctor's room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it had been +when he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his head was bent +down, and he was very busy. + +“Doctor Manette. My dear friend, Doctor Manette!” + +The Doctor looked at him for a moment--half inquiringly, half as if he +were angry at being spoken to--and bent over his work again. + +He had laid aside his coat and waistcoat; his shirt was open at the +throat, as it used to be when he did that work; and even the old +haggard, faded surface of face had come back to him. He worked +hard--impatiently--as if in some sense of having been interrupted. + +Mr. Lorry glanced at the work in his hand, and observed that it was a +shoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lying by +him, and asked what it was. + +“A young lady's walking shoe,” he muttered, without looking up. “It +ought to have been finished long ago. Let it be.” + +“But, Doctor Manette. Look at me!” + +He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, without pausing in +his work. + +“You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your proper +occupation. Think, dear friend!” + +Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an instant at +a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no persuasion would extract +a word from him. He worked, and worked, and worked, in silence, and +words fell on him as they would have fallen on an echoless wall, or on +the air. The only ray of hope that Mr. Lorry could discover, was, that +he sometimes furtively looked up without being asked. In that, there +seemed a faint expression of curiosity or perplexity--as though he were +trying to reconcile some doubts in his mind. + +Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as important above +all others; the first, that this must be kept secret from Lucie; +the second, that it must be kept secret from all who knew him. In +conjunction with Miss Pross, he took immediate steps towards the latter +precaution, by giving out that the Doctor was not well, and required a +few days of complete rest. In aid of the kind deception to be practised +on his daughter, Miss Pross was to write, describing his having been +called away professionally, and referring to an imaginary letter of +two or three hurried lines in his own hand, represented to have been +addressed to her by the same post. + +These measures, advisable to be taken in any case, Mr. Lorry took in +the hope of his coming to himself. If that should happen soon, he kept +another course in reserve; which was, to have a certain opinion that he +thought the best, on the Doctor's case. + +In the hope of his recovery, and of resort to this third course +being thereby rendered practicable, Mr. Lorry resolved to watch him +attentively, with as little appearance as possible of doing so. He +therefore made arrangements to absent himself from Tellson's for the +first time in his life, and took his post by the window in the same +room. + +He was not long in discovering that it was worse than useless to speak +to him, since, on being pressed, he became worried. He abandoned that +attempt on the first day, and resolved merely to keep himself always +before him, as a silent protest against the delusion into which he had +fallen, or was falling. He remained, therefore, in his seat near the +window, reading and writing, and expressing in as many pleasant and +natural ways as he could think of, that it was a free place. + +Doctor Manette took what was given him to eat and drink, and worked on, +that first day, until it was too dark to see--worked on, half an hour +after Mr. Lorry could not have seen, for his life, to read or write. +When he put his tools aside as useless, until morning, Mr. Lorry rose +and said to him: + +“Will you go out?” + +He looked down at the floor on either side of him in the old manner, +looked up in the old manner, and repeated in the old low voice: + +“Out?” + +“Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?” + +He made no effort to say why not, and said not a word more. But, Mr. +Lorry thought he saw, as he leaned forward on his bench in the dusk, +with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, that he was in +some misty way asking himself, “Why not?” The sagacity of the man of +business perceived an advantage here, and determined to hold it. + +Miss Pross and he divided the night into two watches, and observed him +at intervals from the adjoining room. He paced up and down for a long +time before he lay down; but, when he did finally lay himself down, he +fell asleep. In the morning, he was up betimes, and went straight to his +bench and to work. + +On this second day, Mr. Lorry saluted him cheerfully by his name, +and spoke to him on topics that had been of late familiar to them. He +returned no reply, but it was evident that he heard what was said, and +that he thought about it, however confusedly. This encouraged Mr. Lorry +to have Miss Pross in with her work, several times during the day; +at those times, they quietly spoke of Lucie, and of her father then +present, precisely in the usual manner, and as if there were nothing +amiss. This was done without any demonstrative accompaniment, not long +enough, or often enough to harass him; and it lightened Mr. Lorry's +friendly heart to believe that he looked up oftener, and that he +appeared to be stirred by some perception of inconsistencies surrounding +him. + +When it fell dark again, Mr. Lorry asked him as before: + +“Dear Doctor, will you go out?” + +As before, he repeated, “Out?” + +“Yes; for a walk with me. Why not?” + +This time, Mr. Lorry feigned to go out when he could extract no answer +from him, and, after remaining absent for an hour, returned. In the +meanwhile, the Doctor had removed to the seat in the window, and had +sat there looking down at the plane-tree; but, on Mr. Lorry's return, he +slipped away to his bench. + +The time went very slowly on, and Mr. Lorry's hope darkened, and his +heart grew heavier again, and grew yet heavier and heavier every day. +The third day came and went, the fourth, the fifth. Five days, six days, +seven days, eight days, nine days. + +With a hope ever darkening, and with a heart always growing heavier and +heavier, Mr. Lorry passed through this anxious time. The secret was +well kept, and Lucie was unconscious and happy; but he could not fail to +observe that the shoemaker, whose hand had been a little out at first, +was growing dreadfully skilful, and that he had never been so intent on +his work, and that his hands had never been so nimble and expert, as in +the dusk of the ninth evening. + + + + +XIX. An Opinion + + +Worn out by anxious watching, Mr. Lorry fell asleep at his post. On the +tenth morning of his suspense, he was startled by the shining of the sun +into the room where a heavy slumber had overtaken him when it was dark +night. + +He rubbed his eyes and roused himself; but he doubted, when he had +done so, whether he was not still asleep. For, going to the door of the +Doctor's room and looking in, he perceived that the shoemaker's bench +and tools were put aside again, and that the Doctor himself sat reading +at the window. He was in his usual morning dress, and his face (which +Mr. Lorry could distinctly see), though still very pale, was calmly +studious and attentive. + +Even when he had satisfied himself that he was awake, Mr. Lorry felt +giddily uncertain for some few moments whether the late shoemaking might +not be a disturbed dream of his own; for, did not his eyes show him his +friend before him in his accustomed clothing and aspect, and employed +as usual; and was there any sign within their range, that the change of +which he had so strong an impression had actually happened? + +It was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, the +answer being obvious. If the impression were not produced by a real +corresponding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there? +How came he to have fallen asleep, in his clothes, on the sofa in Doctor +Manette's consulting-room, and to be debating these points outside the +Doctor's bedroom door in the early morning? + +Within a few minutes, Miss Pross stood whispering at his side. If he +had had any particle of doubt left, her talk would of necessity have +resolved it; but he was by that time clear-headed, and had none. +He advised that they should let the time go by until the regular +breakfast-hour, and should then meet the Doctor as if nothing unusual +had occurred. If he appeared to be in his customary state of mind, Mr. +Lorry would then cautiously proceed to seek direction and guidance from +the opinion he had been, in his anxiety, so anxious to obtain. + +Miss Pross, submitting herself to his judgment, the scheme was worked +out with care. Having abundance of time for his usual methodical +toilette, Mr. Lorry presented himself at the breakfast-hour in his usual +white linen, and with his usual neat leg. The Doctor was summoned in the +usual way, and came to breakfast. + +So far as it was possible to comprehend him without overstepping those +delicate and gradual approaches which Mr. Lorry felt to be the only safe +advance, he at first supposed that his daughter's marriage had taken +place yesterday. An incidental allusion, purposely thrown out, to +the day of the week, and the day of the month, set him thinking and +counting, and evidently made him uneasy. In all other respects, however, +he was so composedly himself, that Mr. Lorry determined to have the aid +he sought. And that aid was his own. + +Therefore, when the breakfast was done and cleared away, and he and the +Doctor were left together, Mr. Lorry said, feelingly: + +“My dear Manette, I am anxious to have your opinion, in confidence, on a +very curious case in which I am deeply interested; that is to say, it is +very curious to me; perhaps, to your better information it may be less +so.” + +Glancing at his hands, which were discoloured by his late work, the +Doctor looked troubled, and listened attentively. He had already glanced +at his hands more than once. + +“Doctor Manette,” said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on the +arm, “the case is the case of a particularly dear friend of mine. Pray +give your mind to it, and advise me well for his sake--and above all, +for his daughter's--his daughter's, my dear Manette.” + +“If I understand,” said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, “some mental +shock--?” + +“Yes!” + +“Be explicit,” said the Doctor. “Spare no detail.” + +Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded. + +“My dear Manette, it is the case of an old and a prolonged shock, +of great acuteness and severity to the affections, the feelings, +the--the--as you express it--the mind. The mind. It is the case of a +shock under which the sufferer was borne down, one cannot say for how +long, because I believe he cannot calculate the time himself, and there +are no other means of getting at it. It is the case of a shock from +which the sufferer recovered, by a process that he cannot trace +himself--as I once heard him publicly relate in a striking manner. It is +the case of a shock from which he has recovered, so completely, as to +be a highly intelligent man, capable of close application of mind, and +great exertion of body, and of constantly making fresh additions to his +stock of knowledge, which was already very large. But, unfortunately, +there has been,” he paused and took a deep breath--“a slight relapse.” + +The Doctor, in a low voice, asked, “Of how long duration?” + +“Nine days and nights.” + +“How did it show itself? I infer,” glancing at his hands again, “in the +resumption of some old pursuit connected with the shock?” + +“That is the fact.” + +“Now, did you ever see him,” asked the Doctor, distinctly and +collectedly, though in the same low voice, “engaged in that pursuit +originally?” + +“Once.” + +“And when the relapse fell on him, was he in most respects--or in all +respects--as he was then?” + +“I think in all respects.” + +“You spoke of his daughter. Does his daughter know of the relapse?” + +“No. It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from her. +It is known only to myself, and to one other who may be trusted.” + +The Doctor grasped his hand, and murmured, “That was very kind. That was +very thoughtful!” Mr. Lorry grasped his hand in return, and neither of +the two spoke for a little while. + +“Now, my dear Manette,” said Mr. Lorry, at length, in his most +considerate and most affectionate way, “I am a mere man of business, +and unfit to cope with such intricate and difficult matters. I do not +possess the kind of information necessary; I do not possess the kind of +intelligence; I want guiding. There is no man in this world on whom +I could so rely for right guidance, as on you. Tell me, how does this +relapse come about? Is there danger of another? Could a repetition of it +be prevented? How should a repetition of it be treated? How does it come +about at all? What can I do for my friend? No man ever can have been +more desirous in his heart to serve a friend, than I am to serve mine, +if I knew how. + +“But I don't know how to originate, in such a case. If your sagacity, +knowledge, and experience, could put me on the right track, I might be +able to do so much; unenlightened and undirected, I can do so little. +Pray discuss it with me; pray enable me to see it a little more clearly, +and teach me how to be a little more useful.” + +Doctor Manette sat meditating after these earnest words were spoken, and +Mr. Lorry did not press him. + +“I think it probable,” said the Doctor, breaking silence with an effort, +“that the relapse you have described, my dear friend, was not quite +unforeseen by its subject.” + +“Was it dreaded by him?” Mr. Lorry ventured to ask. + +“Very much.” He said it with an involuntary shudder. + +“You have no idea how such an apprehension weighs on the sufferer's +mind, and how difficult--how almost impossible--it is, for him to force +himself to utter a word upon the topic that oppresses him.” + +“Would he,” asked Mr. Lorry, “be sensibly relieved if he could prevail +upon himself to impart that secret brooding to any one, when it is on +him?” + +“I think so. But it is, as I have told you, next to impossible. I even +believe it--in some cases--to be quite impossible.” + +“Now,” said Mr. Lorry, gently laying his hand on the Doctor's arm again, +after a short silence on both sides, “to what would you refer this +attack?” + +“I believe,” returned Doctor Manette, “that there had been a strong and +extraordinary revival of the train of thought and remembrance that +was the first cause of the malady. Some intense associations of a most +distressing nature were vividly recalled, I think. It is probable that +there had long been a dread lurking in his mind, that those associations +would be recalled--say, under certain circumstances--say, on a +particular occasion. He tried to prepare himself in vain; perhaps the +effort to prepare himself made him less able to bear it.” + +“Would he remember what took place in the relapse?” asked Mr. Lorry, +with natural hesitation. + +The Doctor looked desolately round the room, shook his head, and +answered, in a low voice, “Not at all.” + +“Now, as to the future,” hinted Mr. Lorry. + +“As to the future,” said the Doctor, recovering firmness, “I should have +great hope. As it pleased Heaven in its mercy to restore him so soon, I +should have great hope. He, yielding under the pressure of a complicated +something, long dreaded and long vaguely foreseen and contended against, +and recovering after the cloud had burst and passed, I should hope that +the worst was over.” + +“Well, well! That's good comfort. I am thankful!” said Mr. Lorry. + +“I am thankful!” repeated the Doctor, bending his head with reverence. + +“There are two other points,” said Mr. Lorry, “on which I am anxious to +be instructed. I may go on?” + +“You cannot do your friend a better service.” The Doctor gave him his +hand. + +“To the first, then. He is of a studious habit, and unusually energetic; +he applies himself with great ardour to the acquisition of professional +knowledge, to the conducting of experiments, to many things. Now, does +he do too much?” + +“I think not. It may be the character of his mind, to be always in +singular need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; in +part, the result of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthy +things, the more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthy +direction. He may have observed himself, and made the discovery.” + +“You are sure that he is not under too great a strain?” + +“I think I am quite sure of it.” + +“My dear Manette, if he were overworked now--” + +“My dear Lorry, I doubt if that could easily be. There has been a +violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight.” + +“Excuse me, as a persistent man of business. Assuming for a moment, +that he _was_ overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of this +disorder?” + +“I do not think so. I do not think,” said Doctor Manette with the +firmness of self-conviction, “that anything but the one train of +association would renew it. I think that, henceforth, nothing but some +extraordinary jarring of that chord could renew it. After what has +happened, and after his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine any +such violent sounding of that string again. I trust, and I almost +believe, that the circumstances likely to renew it are exhausted.” + +He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thing +would overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with the +confidence of a man who had slowly won his assurance out of personal +endurance and distress. It was not for his friend to abate that +confidence. He professed himself more relieved and encouraged than he +really was, and approached his second and last point. He felt it to +be the most difficult of all; but, remembering his old Sunday morning +conversation with Miss Pross, and remembering what he had seen in the +last nine days, he knew that he must face it. + +“The occupation resumed under the influence of this passing affliction +so happily recovered from,” said Mr. Lorry, clearing his throat, “we +will call--Blacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work. We will say, to put a +case and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad +time, to work at a little forge. We will say that he was unexpectedly +found at his forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it by +him?” + +The Doctor shaded his forehead with his hand, and beat his foot +nervously on the ground. + +“He has always kept it by him,” said Mr. Lorry, with an anxious look at +his friend. “Now, would it not be better that he should let it go?” + +Still, the Doctor, with shaded forehead, beat his foot nervously on the +ground. + +“You do not find it easy to advise me?” said Mr. Lorry. “I quite +understand it to be a nice question. And yet I think--” And there he +shook his head, and stopped. + +“You see,” said Doctor Manette, turning to him after an uneasy pause, +“it is very hard to explain, consistently, the innermost workings +of this poor man's mind. He once yearned so frightfully for that +occupation, and it was so welcome when it came; no doubt it relieved +his pain so much, by substituting the perplexity of the fingers for +the perplexity of the brain, and by substituting, as he became more +practised, the ingenuity of the hands, for the ingenuity of the mental +torture; that he has never been able to bear the thought of putting it +quite out of his reach. Even now, when I believe he is more hopeful of +himself than he has ever been, and even speaks of himself with a kind +of confidence, the idea that he might need that old employment, and not +find it, gives him a sudden sense of terror, like that which one may +fancy strikes to the heart of a lost child.” + +He looked like his illustration, as he raised his eyes to Mr. Lorry's +face. + +“But may not--mind! I ask for information, as a plodding man of business +who only deals with such material objects as guineas, shillings, and +bank-notes--may not the retention of the thing involve the retention of +the idea? If the thing were gone, my dear Manette, might not the fear go +with it? In short, is it not a concession to the misgiving, to keep the +forge?” + +There was another silence. + +“You see, too,” said the Doctor, tremulously, “it is such an old +companion.” + +“I would not keep it,” said Mr. Lorry, shaking his head; for he gained +in firmness as he saw the Doctor disquieted. “I would recommend him to +sacrifice it. I only want your authority. I am sure it does no good. +Come! Give me your authority, like a dear good man. For his daughter's +sake, my dear Manette!” + +Very strange to see what a struggle there was within him! + +“In her name, then, let it be done; I sanction it. But, I would not take +it away while he was present. Let it be removed when he is not there; +let him miss his old companion after an absence.” + +Mr. Lorry readily engaged for that, and the conference was ended. They +passed the day in the country, and the Doctor was quite restored. On the +three following days he remained perfectly well, and on the fourteenth +day he went away to join Lucie and her husband. The precaution that +had been taken to account for his silence, Mr. Lorry had previously +explained to him, and he had written to Lucie in accordance with it, and +she had no suspicions. + +On the night of the day on which he left the house, Mr. Lorry went into +his room with a chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer, attended by Miss Pross +carrying a light. There, with closed doors, and in a mysterious and +guilty manner, Mr. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, while +Miss Pross held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder--for +which, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure. The +burning of the body (previously reduced to pieces convenient for the +purpose) was commenced without delay in the kitchen fire; and the tools, +shoes, and leather, were buried in the garden. So wicked do destruction +and secrecy appear to honest minds, that Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross, +while engaged in the commission of their deed and in the removal of its +traces, almost felt, and almost looked, like accomplices in a horrible +crime. + + + + +XX. A Plea + + +When the newly-married pair came home, the first person who appeared, to +offer his congratulations, was Sydney Carton. They had not been at home +many hours, when he presented himself. He was not improved in habits, or +in looks, or in manner; but there was a certain rugged air of fidelity +about him, which was new to the observation of Charles Darnay. + +He watched his opportunity of taking Darnay aside into a window, and of +speaking to him when no one overheard. + +“Mr. Darnay,” said Carton, “I wish we might be friends.” + +“We are already friends, I hope.” + +“You are good enough to say so, as a fashion of speech; but, I don't +mean any fashion of speech. Indeed, when I say I wish we might be +friends, I scarcely mean quite that, either.” + +Charles Darnay--as was natural--asked him, in all good-humour and +good-fellowship, what he did mean? + +“Upon my life,” said Carton, smiling, “I find that easier to comprehend +in my own mind, than to convey to yours. However, let me try. You +remember a certain famous occasion when I was more drunk than--than +usual?” + +“I remember a certain famous occasion when you forced me to confess that +you had been drinking.” + +“I remember it too. The curse of those occasions is heavy upon me, for I +always remember them. I hope it may be taken into account one day, +when all days are at an end for me! Don't be alarmed; I am not going to +preach.” + +“I am not at all alarmed. Earnestness in you, is anything but alarming +to me.” + +“Ah!” said Carton, with a careless wave of his hand, as if he waved that +away. “On the drunken occasion in question (one of a large number, as +you know), I was insufferable about liking you, and not liking you. I +wish you would forget it.” + +“I forgot it long ago.” + +“Fashion of speech again! But, Mr. Darnay, oblivion is not so easy to +me, as you represent it to be to you. I have by no means forgotten it, +and a light answer does not help me to forget it.” + +“If it was a light answer,” returned Darnay, “I beg your forgiveness +for it. I had no other object than to turn a slight thing, which, to my +surprise, seems to trouble you too much, aside. I declare to you, on the +faith of a gentleman, that I have long dismissed it from my mind. Good +Heaven, what was there to dismiss! Have I had nothing more important to +remember, in the great service you rendered me that day?” + +“As to the great service,” said Carton, “I am bound to avow to you, when +you speak of it in that way, that it was mere professional claptrap, I +don't know that I cared what became of you, when I rendered it.--Mind! I +say when I rendered it; I am speaking of the past.” + +“You make light of the obligation,” returned Darnay, “but I will not +quarrel with _your_ light answer.” + +“Genuine truth, Mr. Darnay, trust me! I have gone aside from my purpose; +I was speaking about our being friends. Now, you know me; you know I am +incapable of all the higher and better flights of men. If you doubt it, +ask Stryver, and he'll tell you so.” + +“I prefer to form my own opinion, without the aid of his.” + +“Well! At any rate you know me as a dissolute dog, who has never done +any good, and never will.” + +“I don't know that you 'never will.'” + +“But I do, and you must take my word for it. Well! If you could endure +to have such a worthless fellow, and a fellow of such indifferent +reputation, coming and going at odd times, I should ask that I might be +permitted to come and go as a privileged person here; that I might +be regarded as an useless (and I would add, if it were not for the +resemblance I detected between you and me, an unornamental) piece of +furniture, tolerated for its old service, and taken no notice of. I +doubt if I should abuse the permission. It is a hundred to one if I +should avail myself of it four times in a year. It would satisfy me, I +dare say, to know that I had it.” + +“Will you try?” + +“That is another way of saying that I am placed on the footing I have +indicated. I thank you, Darnay. I may use that freedom with your name?” + +“I think so, Carton, by this time.” + +They shook hands upon it, and Sydney turned away. Within a minute +afterwards, he was, to all outward appearance, as unsubstantial as ever. + +When he was gone, and in the course of an evening passed with Miss +Pross, the Doctor, and Mr. Lorry, Charles Darnay made some mention of +this conversation in general terms, and spoke of Sydney Carton as a +problem of carelessness and recklessness. He spoke of him, in short, not +bitterly or meaning to bear hard upon him, but as anybody might who saw +him as he showed himself. + +He had no idea that this could dwell in the thoughts of his fair young +wife; but, when he afterwards joined her in their own rooms, he found +her waiting for him with the old pretty lifting of the forehead strongly +marked. + +“We are thoughtful to-night!” said Darnay, drawing his arm about her. + +“Yes, dearest Charles,” with her hands on his breast, and the inquiring +and attentive expression fixed upon him; “we are rather thoughtful +to-night, for we have something on our mind to-night.” + +“What is it, my Lucie?” + +“Will you promise not to press one question on me, if I beg you not to +ask it?” + +“Will I promise? What will I not promise to my Love?” + +What, indeed, with his hand putting aside the golden hair from the +cheek, and his other hand against the heart that beat for him! + +“I think, Charles, poor Mr. Carton deserves more consideration and +respect than you expressed for him to-night.” + +“Indeed, my own? Why so?” + +“That is what you are not to ask me. But I think--I know--he does.” + +“If you know it, it is enough. What would you have me do, my Life?” + +“I would ask you, dearest, to be very generous with him always, and very +lenient on his faults when he is not by. I would ask you to believe that +he has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and that there are deep +wounds in it. My dear, I have seen it bleeding.” + +“It is a painful reflection to me,” said Charles Darnay, quite +astounded, “that I should have done him any wrong. I never thought this +of him.” + +“My husband, it is so. I fear he is not to be reclaimed; there is +scarcely a hope that anything in his character or fortunes is reparable +now. But, I am sure that he is capable of good things, gentle things, +even magnanimous things.” + +She looked so beautiful in the purity of her faith in this lost man, +that her husband could have looked at her as she was for hours. + +“And, O my dearest Love!” she urged, clinging nearer to him, laying her +head upon his breast, and raising her eyes to his, “remember how strong +we are in our happiness, and how weak he is in his misery!” + +The supplication touched him home. “I will always remember it, dear +Heart! I will remember it as long as I live.” + +He bent over the golden head, and put the rosy lips to his, and folded +her in his arms. If one forlorn wanderer then pacing the dark streets, +could have heard her innocent disclosure, and could have seen the drops +of pity kissed away by her husband from the soft blue eyes so loving of +that husband, he might have cried to the night--and the words would not +have parted from his lips for the first time-- + +“God bless her for her sweet compassion!” + + + + +XXI. Echoing Footsteps + + +A wonderful corner for echoes, it has been remarked, that corner where +the Doctor lived. Ever busily winding the golden thread which bound +her husband, and her father, and herself, and her old directress and +companion, in a life of quiet bliss, Lucie sat in the still house in +the tranquilly resounding corner, listening to the echoing footsteps of +years. + +At first, there were times, though she was a perfectly happy young wife, +when her work would slowly fall from her hands, and her eyes would be +dimmed. For, there was something coming in the echoes, something light, +afar off, and scarcely audible yet, that stirred her heart too much. +Fluttering hopes and doubts--hopes, of a love as yet unknown to her: +doubts, of her remaining upon earth, to enjoy that new delight--divided +her breast. Among the echoes then, there would arise the sound of +footsteps at her own early grave; and thoughts of the husband who would +be left so desolate, and who would mourn for her so much, swelled to her +eyes, and broke like waves. + +That time passed, and her little Lucie lay on her bosom. Then, among the +advancing echoes, there was the tread of her tiny feet and the sound of +her prattling words. Let greater echoes resound as they would, the young +mother at the cradle side could always hear those coming. They came, and +the shady house was sunny with a child's laugh, and the Divine friend of +children, to whom in her trouble she had confided hers, seemed to take +her child in his arms, as He took the child of old, and made it a sacred +joy to her. + +Ever busily winding the golden thread that bound them all together, +weaving the service of her happy influence through the tissue of all +their lives, and making it predominate nowhere, Lucie heard in the +echoes of years none but friendly and soothing sounds. Her husband's +step was strong and prosperous among them; her father's firm and equal. +Lo, Miss Pross, in harness of string, awakening the echoes, as an +unruly charger, whip-corrected, snorting and pawing the earth under the +plane-tree in the garden! + +Even when there were sounds of sorrow among the rest, they were not +harsh nor cruel. Even when golden hair, like her own, lay in a halo on a +pillow round the worn face of a little boy, and he said, with a radiant +smile, “Dear papa and mamma, I am very sorry to leave you both, and to +leave my pretty sister; but I am called, and I must go!” those were not +tears all of agony that wetted his young mother's cheek, as the spirit +departed from her embrace that had been entrusted to it. Suffer them and +forbid them not. They see my Father's face. O Father, blessed words! + +Thus, the rustling of an Angel's wings got blended with the other +echoes, and they were not wholly of earth, but had in them that breath +of Heaven. Sighs of the winds that blew over a little garden-tomb were +mingled with them also, and both were audible to Lucie, in a hushed +murmur--like the breathing of a summer sea asleep upon a sandy shore--as +the little Lucie, comically studious at the task of the morning, or +dressing a doll at her mother's footstool, chattered in the tongues of +the Two Cities that were blended in her life. + +The Echoes rarely answered to the actual tread of Sydney Carton. Some +half-dozen times a year, at most, he claimed his privilege of coming in +uninvited, and would sit among them through the evening, as he had once +done often. He never came there heated with wine. And one other thing +regarding him was whispered in the echoes, which has been whispered by +all true echoes for ages and ages. + +No man ever really loved a woman, lost her, and knew her with a +blameless though an unchanged mind, when she was a wife and a mother, +but her children had a strange sympathy with him--an instinctive +delicacy of pity for him. What fine hidden sensibilities are touched in +such a case, no echoes tell; but it is so, and it was so here. Carton +was the first stranger to whom little Lucie held out her chubby arms, +and he kept his place with her as she grew. The little boy had spoken of +him, almost at the last. “Poor Carton! Kiss him for me!” + +Mr. Stryver shouldered his way through the law, like some great engine +forcing itself through turbid water, and dragged his useful friend in +his wake, like a boat towed astern. As the boat so favoured is usually +in a rough plight, and mostly under water, so, Sydney had a swamped +life of it. But, easy and strong custom, unhappily so much easier and +stronger in him than any stimulating sense of desert or disgrace, made +it the life he was to lead; and he no more thought of emerging from his +state of lion's jackal, than any real jackal may be supposed to think of +rising to be a lion. Stryver was rich; had married a florid widow with +property and three boys, who had nothing particularly shining about them +but the straight hair of their dumpling heads. + +These three young gentlemen, Mr. Stryver, exuding patronage of the most +offensive quality from every pore, had walked before him like three +sheep to the quiet corner in Soho, and had offered as pupils to +Lucie's husband: delicately saying “Halloa! here are three lumps of +bread-and-cheese towards your matrimonial picnic, Darnay!” The polite +rejection of the three lumps of bread-and-cheese had quite bloated Mr. +Stryver with indignation, which he afterwards turned to account in the +training of the young gentlemen, by directing them to beware of the +pride of Beggars, like that tutor-fellow. He was also in the habit of +declaiming to Mrs. Stryver, over his full-bodied wine, on the arts +Mrs. Darnay had once put in practice to “catch” him, and on the +diamond-cut-diamond arts in himself, madam, which had rendered him “not +to be caught.” Some of his King's Bench familiars, who were occasionally +parties to the full-bodied wine and the lie, excused him for the +latter by saying that he had told it so often, that he believed +it himself--which is surely such an incorrigible aggravation of an +originally bad offence, as to justify any such offender's being carried +off to some suitably retired spot, and there hanged out of the way. + +These were among the echoes to which Lucie, sometimes pensive, sometimes +amused and laughing, listened in the echoing corner, until her little +daughter was six years old. How near to her heart the echoes of her +child's tread came, and those of her own dear father's, always active +and self-possessed, and those of her dear husband's, need not be told. +Nor, how the lightest echo of their united home, directed by herself +with such a wise and elegant thrift that it was more abundant than any +waste, was music to her. Nor, how there were echoes all about her, sweet +in her ears, of the many times her father had told her that he found her +more devoted to him married (if that could be) than single, and of the +many times her husband had said to her that no cares and duties seemed +to divide her love for him or her help to him, and asked her “What is +the magic secret, my darling, of your being everything to all of us, +as if there were only one of us, yet never seeming to be hurried, or to +have too much to do?” + +But, there were other echoes, from a distance, that rumbled menacingly +in the corner all through this space of time. And it was now, about +little Lucie's sixth birthday, that they began to have an awful sound, +as of a great storm in France with a dreadful sea rising. + +On a night in mid-July, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine, Mr. +Lorry came in late, from Tellson's, and sat himself down by Lucie and +her husband in the dark window. It was a hot, wild night, and they were +all three reminded of the old Sunday night when they had looked at the +lightning from the same place. + +“I began to think,” said Mr. Lorry, pushing his brown wig back, “that +I should have to pass the night at Tellson's. We have been so full of +business all day, that we have not known what to do first, or which way +to turn. There is such an uneasiness in Paris, that we have actually a +run of confidence upon us! Our customers over there, seem not to be able +to confide their property to us fast enough. There is positively a mania +among some of them for sending it to England.” + +“That has a bad look,” said Darnay-- + +“A bad look, you say, my dear Darnay? Yes, but we don't know what reason +there is in it. People are so unreasonable! Some of us at Tellson's are +getting old, and we really can't be troubled out of the ordinary course +without due occasion.” + +“Still,” said Darnay, “you know how gloomy and threatening the sky is.” + +“I know that, to be sure,” assented Mr. Lorry, trying to persuade +himself that his sweet temper was soured, and that he grumbled, “but I +am determined to be peevish after my long day's botheration. Where is +Manette?” + +“Here he is,” said the Doctor, entering the dark room at the moment. + +“I am quite glad you are at home; for these hurries and forebodings by +which I have been surrounded all day long, have made me nervous without +reason. You are not going out, I hope?” + +“No; I am going to play backgammon with you, if you like,” said the +Doctor. + +“I don't think I do like, if I may speak my mind. I am not fit to be +pitted against you to-night. Is the teaboard still there, Lucie? I can't +see.” + +“Of course, it has been kept for you.” + +“Thank ye, my dear. The precious child is safe in bed?” + +“And sleeping soundly.” + +“That's right; all safe and well! I don't know why anything should be +otherwise than safe and well here, thank God; but I have been so put out +all day, and I am not as young as I was! My tea, my dear! Thank ye. Now, +come and take your place in the circle, and let us sit quiet, and hear +the echoes about which you have your theory.” + +“Not a theory; it was a fancy.” + +“A fancy, then, my wise pet,” said Mr. Lorry, patting her hand. “They +are very numerous and very loud, though, are they not? Only hear them!” + +Headlong, mad, and dangerous footsteps to force their way into anybody's +life, footsteps not easily made clean again if once stained red, the +footsteps raging in Saint Antoine afar off, as the little circle sat in +the dark London window. + +Saint Antoine had been, that morning, a vast dusky mass of scarecrows +heaving to and fro, with frequent gleams of light above the billowy +heads, where steel blades and bayonets shone in the sun. A tremendous +roar arose from the throat of Saint Antoine, and a forest of naked arms +struggled in the air like shrivelled branches of trees in a winter wind: +all the fingers convulsively clutching at every weapon or semblance of a +weapon that was thrown up from the depths below, no matter how far off. + +Who gave them out, whence they last came, where they began, through what +agency they crookedly quivered and jerked, scores at a time, over the +heads of the crowd, like a kind of lightning, no eye in the throng could +have told; but, muskets were being distributed--so were cartridges, +powder, and ball, bars of iron and wood, knives, axes, pikes, every +weapon that distracted ingenuity could discover or devise. People who +could lay hold of nothing else, set themselves with bleeding hands to +force stones and bricks out of their places in walls. Every pulse and +heart in Saint Antoine was on high-fever strain and at high-fever heat. +Every living creature there held life as of no account, and was demented +with a passionate readiness to sacrifice it. + +As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a centre point, so, all this raging +circled round Defarge's wine-shop, and every human drop in the caldron +had a tendency to be sucked towards the vortex where Defarge himself, +already begrimed with gunpowder and sweat, issued orders, issued arms, +thrust this man back, dragged this man forward, disarmed one to arm +another, laboured and strove in the thickest of the uproar. + +“Keep near to me, Jacques Three,” cried Defarge; “and do you, Jacques +One and Two, separate and put yourselves at the head of as many of these +patriots as you can. Where is my wife?” + +“Eh, well! Here you see me!” said madame, composed as ever, but not +knitting to-day. Madame's resolute right hand was occupied with an axe, +in place of the usual softer implements, and in her girdle were a pistol +and a cruel knife. + +“Where do you go, my wife?” + +“I go,” said madame, “with you at present. You shall see me at the head +of women, by-and-bye.” + +“Come, then!” cried Defarge, in a resounding voice. “Patriots and +friends, we are ready! The Bastille!” + +With a roar that sounded as if all the breath in France had been shaped +into the detested word, the living sea rose, wave on wave, depth on +depth, and overflowed the city to that point. Alarm-bells ringing, drums +beating, the sea raging and thundering on its new beach, the attack +began. + +Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great +towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. Through the fire and through +the smoke--in the fire and in the smoke, for the sea cast him up against +a cannon, and on the instant he became a cannonier--Defarge of the +wine-shop worked like a manful soldier, Two fierce hours. + +Deep ditch, single drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great towers, +cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. One drawbridge down! “Work, comrades +all, work! Work, Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques One Thousand, Jacques +Two Thousand, Jacques Five-and-Twenty Thousand; in the name of all +the Angels or the Devils--which you prefer--work!” Thus Defarge of the +wine-shop, still at his gun, which had long grown hot. + +“To me, women!” cried madame his wife. “What! We can kill as well as +the men when the place is taken!” And to her, with a shrill thirsty +cry, trooping women variously armed, but all armed alike in hunger and +revenge. + +Cannon, muskets, fire and smoke; but, still the deep ditch, the single +drawbridge, the massive stone walls, and the eight great towers. Slight +displacements of the raging sea, made by the falling wounded. Flashing +weapons, blazing torches, smoking waggonloads of wet straw, hard work +at neighbouring barricades in all directions, shrieks, volleys, +execrations, bravery without stint, boom smash and rattle, and the +furious sounding of the living sea; but, still the deep ditch, and the +single drawbridge, and the massive stone walls, and the eight great +towers, and still Defarge of the wine-shop at his gun, grown doubly hot +by the service of Four fierce hours. + +A white flag from within the fortress, and a parley--this dimly +perceptible through the raging storm, nothing audible in it--suddenly +the sea rose immeasurably wider and higher, and swept Defarge of the +wine-shop over the lowered drawbridge, past the massive stone outer +walls, in among the eight great towers surrendered! + +So resistless was the force of the ocean bearing him on, that even to +draw his breath or turn his head was as impracticable as if he had been +struggling in the surf at the South Sea, until he was landed in the +outer courtyard of the Bastille. There, against an angle of a wall, he +made a struggle to look about him. Jacques Three was nearly at his side; +Madame Defarge, still heading some of her women, was visible in the +inner distance, and her knife was in her hand. Everywhere was tumult, +exultation, deafening and maniacal bewilderment, astounding noise, yet +furious dumb-show. + +“The Prisoners!” + +“The Records!” + +“The secret cells!” + +“The instruments of torture!” + +“The Prisoners!” + +Of all these cries, and ten thousand incoherences, “The Prisoners!” was +the cry most taken up by the sea that rushed in, as if there were an +eternity of people, as well as of time and space. When the foremost +billows rolled past, bearing the prison officers with them, and +threatening them all with instant death if any secret nook remained +undisclosed, Defarge laid his strong hand on the breast of one of +these men--a man with a grey head, who had a lighted torch in his +hand--separated him from the rest, and got him between himself and the +wall. + +“Show me the North Tower!” said Defarge. “Quick!” + +“I will faithfully,” replied the man, “if you will come with me. But +there is no one there.” + +“What is the meaning of One Hundred and Five, North Tower?” asked +Defarge. “Quick!” + +“The meaning, monsieur?” + +“Does it mean a captive, or a place of captivity? Or do you mean that I +shall strike you dead?” + +“Kill him!” croaked Jacques Three, who had come close up. + +“Monsieur, it is a cell.” + +“Show it me!” + +“Pass this way, then.” + +Jacques Three, with his usual craving on him, and evidently disappointed +by the dialogue taking a turn that did not seem to promise bloodshed, +held by Defarge's arm as he held by the turnkey's. Their three heads had +been close together during this brief discourse, and it had been as much +as they could do to hear one another, even then: so tremendous was the +noise of the living ocean, in its irruption into the Fortress, and +its inundation of the courts and passages and staircases. All around +outside, too, it beat the walls with a deep, hoarse roar, from which, +occasionally, some partial shouts of tumult broke and leaped into the +air like spray. + +Through gloomy vaults where the light of day had never shone, past +hideous doors of dark dens and cages, down cavernous flights of steps, +and again up steep rugged ascents of stone and brick, more like dry +waterfalls than staircases, Defarge, the turnkey, and Jacques Three, +linked hand and arm, went with all the speed they could make. Here and +there, especially at first, the inundation started on them and swept by; +but when they had done descending, and were winding and climbing up a +tower, they were alone. Hemmed in here by the massive thickness of walls +and arches, the storm within the fortress and without was only audible +to them in a dull, subdued way, as if the noise out of which they had +come had almost destroyed their sense of hearing. + +The turnkey stopped at a low door, put a key in a clashing lock, swung +the door slowly open, and said, as they all bent their heads and passed +in: + +“One hundred and five, North Tower!” + +There was a small, heavily-grated, unglazed window high in the wall, +with a stone screen before it, so that the sky could be only seen by +stooping low and looking up. There was a small chimney, heavily barred +across, a few feet within. There was a heap of old feathery wood-ashes +on the hearth. There was a stool, and table, and a straw bed. There were +the four blackened walls, and a rusted iron ring in one of them. + +“Pass that torch slowly along these walls, that I may see them,” said +Defarge to the turnkey. + +The man obeyed, and Defarge followed the light closely with his eyes. + +“Stop!--Look here, Jacques!” + +“A. M.!” croaked Jacques Three, as he read greedily. + +“Alexandre Manette,” said Defarge in his ear, following the letters +with his swart forefinger, deeply engrained with gunpowder. “And here he +wrote 'a poor physician.' And it was he, without doubt, who scratched +a calendar on this stone. What is that in your hand? A crowbar? Give it +me!” + +He had still the linstock of his gun in his own hand. He made a sudden +exchange of the two instruments, and turning on the worm-eaten stool and +table, beat them to pieces in a few blows. + +“Hold the light higher!” he said, wrathfully, to the turnkey. “Look +among those fragments with care, Jacques. And see! Here is my knife,” + throwing it to him; “rip open that bed, and search the straw. Hold the +light higher, you!” + +With a menacing look at the turnkey he crawled upon the hearth, and, +peering up the chimney, struck and prised at its sides with the crowbar, +and worked at the iron grating across it. In a few minutes, some mortar +and dust came dropping down, which he averted his face to avoid; and +in it, and in the old wood-ashes, and in a crevice in the chimney +into which his weapon had slipped or wrought itself, he groped with a +cautious touch. + +“Nothing in the wood, and nothing in the straw, Jacques?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Let us collect them together, in the middle of the cell. So! Light +them, you!” + +The turnkey fired the little pile, which blazed high and hot. Stooping +again to come out at the low-arched door, they left it burning, and +retraced their way to the courtyard; seeming to recover their sense +of hearing as they came down, until they were in the raging flood once +more. + +They found it surging and tossing, in quest of Defarge himself. Saint +Antoine was clamorous to have its wine-shop keeper foremost in the guard +upon the governor who had defended the Bastille and shot the people. +Otherwise, the governor would not be marched to the Hotel de Ville for +judgment. Otherwise, the governor would escape, and the people's +blood (suddenly of some value, after many years of worthlessness) be +unavenged. + +In the howling universe of passion and contention that seemed to +encompass this grim old officer conspicuous in his grey coat and red +decoration, there was but one quite steady figure, and that was a +woman's. “See, there is my husband!” she cried, pointing him out. +“See Defarge!” She stood immovable close to the grim old officer, and +remained immovable close to him; remained immovable close to him through +the streets, as Defarge and the rest bore him along; remained immovable +close to him when he was got near his destination, and began to +be struck at from behind; remained immovable close to him when the +long-gathering rain of stabs and blows fell heavy; was so close to him +when he dropped dead under it, that, suddenly animated, she put her foot +upon his neck, and with her cruel knife--long ready--hewed off his head. + +The hour was come, when Saint Antoine was to execute his horrible idea +of hoisting up men for lamps to show what he could be and do. Saint +Antoine's blood was up, and the blood of tyranny and domination by the +iron hand was down--down on the steps of the Hotel de Ville where the +governor's body lay--down on the sole of the shoe of Madame Defarge +where she had trodden on the body to steady it for mutilation. “Lower +the lamp yonder!” cried Saint Antoine, after glaring round for a new +means of death; “here is one of his soldiers to be left on guard!” The +swinging sentinel was posted, and the sea rushed on. + +The sea of black and threatening waters, and of destructive upheaving +of wave against wave, whose depths were yet unfathomed and whose forces +were yet unknown. The remorseless sea of turbulently swaying shapes, +voices of vengeance, and faces hardened in the furnaces of suffering +until the touch of pity could make no mark on them. + +But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furious expression was +in vivid life, there were two groups of faces--each seven in number--so +fixedly contrasting with the rest, that never did sea roll which bore +more memorable wrecks with it. Seven faces of prisoners, suddenly +released by the storm that had burst their tomb, were carried high +overhead: all scared, all lost, all wondering and amazed, as if the Last +Day were come, and those who rejoiced around them were lost spirits. +Other seven faces there were, carried higher, seven dead faces, whose +drooping eyelids and half-seen eyes awaited the Last Day. Impassive +faces, yet with a suspended--not an abolished--expression on them; +faces, rather, in a fearful pause, as having yet to raise the dropped +lids of the eyes, and bear witness with the bloodless lips, “THOU DIDST +IT!” + +Seven prisoners released, seven gory heads on pikes, the keys of the +accursed fortress of the eight strong towers, some discovered letters +and other memorials of prisoners of old time, long dead of broken +hearts,--such, and such--like, the loudly echoing footsteps of Saint +Antoine escort through the Paris streets in mid-July, one thousand seven +hundred and eighty-nine. Now, Heaven defeat the fancy of Lucie Darnay, +and keep these feet far out of her life! For, they are headlong, mad, +and dangerous; and in the years so long after the breaking of the cask +at Defarge's wine-shop door, they are not easily purified when once +stained red. + + + + +XXII. The Sea Still Rises + + +Haggard Saint Antoine had had only one exultant week, in which to soften +his modicum of hard and bitter bread to such extent as he could, with +the relish of fraternal embraces and congratulations, when Madame +Defarge sat at her counter, as usual, presiding over the customers. +Madame Defarge wore no rose in her head, for the great brotherhood of +Spies had become, even in one short week, extremely chary of trusting +themselves to the saint's mercies. The lamps across his streets had a +portentously elastic swing with them. + +Madame Defarge, with her arms folded, sat in the morning light and heat, +contemplating the wine-shop and the street. In both, there were several +knots of loungers, squalid and miserable, but now with a manifest sense +of power enthroned on their distress. The raggedest nightcap, awry on +the wretchedest head, had this crooked significance in it: “I know how +hard it has grown for me, the wearer of this, to support life in myself; +but do you know how easy it has grown for me, the wearer of this, to +destroy life in you?” Every lean bare arm, that had been without work +before, had this work always ready for it now, that it could strike. +The fingers of the knitting women were vicious, with the experience that +they could tear. There was a change in the appearance of Saint Antoine; +the image had been hammering into this for hundreds of years, and the +last finishing blows had told mightily on the expression. + +Madame Defarge sat observing it, with such suppressed approval as was +to be desired in the leader of the Saint Antoine women. One of her +sisterhood knitted beside her. The short, rather plump wife of a starved +grocer, and the mother of two children withal, this lieutenant had +already earned the complimentary name of The Vengeance. + +“Hark!” said The Vengeance. “Listen, then! Who comes?” + +As if a train of powder laid from the outermost bound of Saint Antoine +Quarter to the wine-shop door, had been suddenly fired, a fast-spreading +murmur came rushing along. + +“It is Defarge,” said madame. “Silence, patriots!” + +Defarge came in breathless, pulled off a red cap he wore, and looked +around him! “Listen, everywhere!” said madame again. “Listen to him!” + Defarge stood, panting, against a background of eager eyes and open +mouths, formed outside the door; all those within the wine-shop had +sprung to their feet. + +“Say then, my husband. What is it?” + +“News from the other world!” + +“How, then?” cried madame, contemptuously. “The other world?” + +“Does everybody here recall old Foulon, who told the famished people +that they might eat grass, and who died, and went to Hell?” + +“Everybody!” from all throats. + +“The news is of him. He is among us!” + +“Among us!” from the universal throat again. “And dead?” + +“Not dead! He feared us so much--and with reason--that he caused himself +to be represented as dead, and had a grand mock-funeral. But they have +found him alive, hiding in the country, and have brought him in. I have +seen him but now, on his way to the Hotel de Ville, a prisoner. I have +said that he had reason to fear us. Say all! _Had_ he reason?” + +Wretched old sinner of more than threescore years and ten, if he had +never known it yet, he would have known it in his heart of hearts if he +could have heard the answering cry. + +A moment of profound silence followed. Defarge and his wife looked +steadfastly at one another. The Vengeance stooped, and the jar of a drum +was heard as she moved it at her feet behind the counter. + +“Patriots!” said Defarge, in a determined voice, “are we ready?” + +Instantly Madame Defarge's knife was in her girdle; the drum was beating +in the streets, as if it and a drummer had flown together by magic; and +The Vengeance, uttering terrific shrieks, and flinging her arms about +her head like all the forty Furies at once, was tearing from house to +house, rousing the women. + +The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they looked +from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came pouring down into +the streets; but, the women were a sight to chill the boldest. From +such household occupations as their bare poverty yielded, from their +children, from their aged and their sick crouching on the bare ground +famished and naked, they ran out with streaming hair, urging one +another, and themselves, to madness with the wildest cries and actions. +Villain Foulon taken, my sister! Old Foulon taken, my mother! Miscreant +Foulon taken, my daughter! Then, a score of others ran into the midst of +these, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, and screaming, Foulon +alive! Foulon who told the starving people they might eat grass! Foulon +who told my old father that he might eat grass, when I had no bread +to give him! Foulon who told my baby it might suck grass, when these +breasts were dry with want! O mother of God, this Foulon! O Heaven our +suffering! Hear me, my dead baby and my withered father: I swear on my +knees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Husbands, and brothers, +and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give us the head of Foulon, +Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and soul of Foulon, Rend +Foulon to pieces, and dig him into the ground, that grass may grow from +him! With these cries, numbers of the women, lashed into blind frenzy, +whirled about, striking and tearing at their own friends until they +dropped into a passionate swoon, and were only saved by the men +belonging to them from being trampled under foot. + +Nevertheless, not a moment was lost; not a moment! This Foulon was at +the Hotel de Ville, and might be loosed. Never, if Saint Antoine knew +his own sufferings, insults, and wrongs! Armed men and women flocked out +of the Quarter so fast, and drew even these last dregs after them with +such a force of suction, that within a quarter of an hour there was not +a human creature in Saint Antoine's bosom but a few old crones and the +wailing children. + +No. They were all by that time choking the Hall of Examination where +this old man, ugly and wicked, was, and overflowing into the adjacent +open space and streets. The Defarges, husband and wife, The Vengeance, +and Jacques Three, were in the first press, and at no great distance +from him in the Hall. + +“See!” cried madame, pointing with her knife. “See the old villain bound +with ropes. That was well done to tie a bunch of grass upon his back. +Ha, ha! That was well done. Let him eat it now!” Madame put her knife +under her arm, and clapped her hands as at a play. + +The people immediately behind Madame Defarge, explaining the cause of +her satisfaction to those behind them, and those again explaining to +others, and those to others, the neighbouring streets resounded with the +clapping of hands. Similarly, during two or three hours of drawl, +and the winnowing of many bushels of words, Madame Defarge's frequent +expressions of impatience were taken up, with marvellous quickness, at +a distance: the more readily, because certain men who had by some +wonderful exercise of agility climbed up the external architecture +to look in from the windows, knew Madame Defarge well, and acted as a +telegraph between her and the crowd outside the building. + +At length the sun rose so high that it struck a kindly ray as of hope or +protection, directly down upon the old prisoner's head. The favour was +too much to bear; in an instant the barrier of dust and chaff that had +stood surprisingly long, went to the winds, and Saint Antoine had got +him! + +It was known directly, to the furthest confines of the crowd. Defarge +had but sprung over a railing and a table, and folded the miserable +wretch in a deadly embrace--Madame Defarge had but followed and turned +her hand in one of the ropes with which he was tied--The Vengeance and +Jacques Three were not yet up with them, and the men at the windows +had not yet swooped into the Hall, like birds of prey from their high +perches--when the cry seemed to go up, all over the city, “Bring him +out! Bring him to the lamp!” + +Down, and up, and head foremost on the steps of the building; now, on +his knees; now, on his feet; now, on his back; dragged, and struck at, +and stifled by the bunches of grass and straw that were thrust into his +face by hundreds of hands; torn, bruised, panting, bleeding, yet always +entreating and beseeching for mercy; now full of vehement agony of +action, with a small clear space about him as the people drew one +another back that they might see; now, a log of dead wood drawn through +a forest of legs; he was hauled to the nearest street corner where one +of the fatal lamps swung, and there Madame Defarge let him go--as a cat +might have done to a mouse--and silently and composedly looked at him +while they made ready, and while he besought her: the women passionately +screeching at him all the time, and the men sternly calling out to have +him killed with grass in his mouth. Once, he went aloft, and the rope +broke, and they caught him shrieking; twice, he went aloft, and the rope +broke, and they caught him shrieking; then, the rope was merciful, and +held him, and his head was soon upon a pike, with grass enough in the +mouth for all Saint Antoine to dance at the sight of. + +Nor was this the end of the day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so shouted +and danced his angry blood up, that it boiled again, on hearing when +the day closed in that the son-in-law of the despatched, another of the +people's enemies and insulters, was coming into Paris under a guard +five hundred strong, in cavalry alone. Saint Antoine wrote his crimes +on flaring sheets of paper, seized him--would have torn him out of the +breast of an army to bear Foulon company--set his head and heart on +pikes, and carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession +through the streets. + +Not before dark night did the men and women come back to the children, +wailing and breadless. Then, the miserable bakers' shops were beset by +long files of them, patiently waiting to buy bad bread; and while +they waited with stomachs faint and empty, they beguiled the time by +embracing one another on the triumphs of the day, and achieving them +again in gossip. Gradually, these strings of ragged people shortened and +frayed away; and then poor lights began to shine in high windows, and +slender fires were made in the streets, at which neighbours cooked in +common, afterwards supping at their doors. + +Scanty and insufficient suppers those, and innocent of meat, as of +most other sauce to wretched bread. Yet, human fellowship infused +some nourishment into the flinty viands, and struck some sparks of +cheerfulness out of them. Fathers and mothers who had had their full +share in the worst of the day, played gently with their meagre children; +and lovers, with such a world around them and before them, loved and +hoped. + +It was almost morning, when Defarge's wine-shop parted with its last +knot of customers, and Monsieur Defarge said to madame his wife, in +husky tones, while fastening the door: + +“At last it is come, my dear!” + +“Eh well!” returned madame. “Almost.” + +Saint Antoine slept, the Defarges slept: even The Vengeance slept with +her starved grocer, and the drum was at rest. The drum's was the +only voice in Saint Antoine that blood and hurry had not changed. The +Vengeance, as custodian of the drum, could have wakened him up and had +the same speech out of him as before the Bastille fell, or old Foulon +was seized; not so with the hoarse tones of the men and women in Saint +Antoine's bosom. + + + + +XXIII. Fire Rises + + +There was a change on the village where the fountain fell, and where +the mender of roads went forth daily to hammer out of the stones on the +highway such morsels of bread as might serve for patches to hold his +poor ignorant soul and his poor reduced body together. The prison on the +crag was not so dominant as of yore; there were soldiers to guard it, +but not many; there were officers to guard the soldiers, but not one of +them knew what his men would do--beyond this: that it would probably not +be what he was ordered. + +Far and wide lay a ruined country, yielding nothing but desolation. +Every green leaf, every blade of grass and blade of grain, was as +shrivelled and poor as the miserable people. Everything was bowed down, +dejected, oppressed, and broken. Habitations, fences, domesticated +animals, men, women, children, and the soil that bore them--all worn +out. + +Monseigneur (often a most worthy individual gentleman) was a national +blessing, gave a chivalrous tone to things, was a polite example of +luxurious and shining life, and a great deal more to equal purpose; +nevertheless, Monseigneur as a class had, somehow or other, brought +things to this. Strange that Creation, designed expressly for +Monseigneur, should be so soon wrung dry and squeezed out! There must +be something short-sighted in the eternal arrangements, surely! Thus it +was, however; and the last drop of blood having been extracted from the +flints, and the last screw of the rack having been turned so often that +its purchase crumbled, and it now turned and turned with nothing +to bite, Monseigneur began to run away from a phenomenon so low and +unaccountable. + +But, this was not the change on the village, and on many a village like +it. For scores of years gone by, Monseigneur had squeezed it and wrung +it, and had seldom graced it with his presence except for the pleasures +of the chase--now, found in hunting the people; now, found in hunting +the beasts, for whose preservation Monseigneur made edifying spaces +of barbarous and barren wilderness. No. The change consisted in +the appearance of strange faces of low caste, rather than in the +disappearance of the high caste, chiselled, and otherwise beautified and +beautifying features of Monseigneur. + +For, in these times, as the mender of roads worked, solitary, in the +dust, not often troubling himself to reflect that dust he was and +to dust he must return, being for the most part too much occupied in +thinking how little he had for supper and how much more he would eat if +he had it--in these times, as he raised his eyes from his lonely labour, +and viewed the prospect, he would see some rough figure approaching on +foot, the like of which was once a rarity in those parts, but was now +a frequent presence. As it advanced, the mender of roads would discern +without surprise, that it was a shaggy-haired man, of almost barbarian +aspect, tall, in wooden shoes that were clumsy even to the eyes of a +mender of roads, grim, rough, swart, steeped in the mud and dust of many +highways, dank with the marshy moisture of many low grounds, sprinkled +with the thorns and leaves and moss of many byways through woods. + +Such a man came upon him, like a ghost, at noon in the July weather, +as he sat on his heap of stones under a bank, taking such shelter as he +could get from a shower of hail. + +The man looked at him, looked at the village in the hollow, at the mill, +and at the prison on the crag. When he had identified these objects +in what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just +intelligible: + +“How goes it, Jacques?” + +“All well, Jacques.” + +“Touch then!” + +They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones. + +“No dinner?” + +“Nothing but supper now,” said the mender of roads, with a hungry face. + +“It is the fashion,” growled the man. “I meet no dinner anywhere.” + +He took out a blackened pipe, filled it, lighted it with flint and +steel, pulled at it until it was in a bright glow: then, suddenly held +it from him and dropped something into it from between his finger and +thumb, that blazed and went out in a puff of smoke. + +“Touch then.” It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this +time, after observing these operations. They again joined hands. + +“To-night?” said the mender of roads. + +“To-night,” said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth. + +“Where?” + +“Here.” + +He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently at +one another, with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy charge +of bayonets, until the sky began to clear over the village. + +“Show me!” said the traveller then, moving to the brow of the hill. + +“See!” returned the mender of roads, with extended finger. “You go down +here, and straight through the street, and past the fountain--” + +“To the Devil with all that!” interrupted the other, rolling his eye +over the landscape. “_I_ go through no streets and past no fountains. +Well?” + +“Well! About two leagues beyond the summit of that hill above the +village.” + +“Good. When do you cease to work?” + +“At sunset.” + +“Will you wake me, before departing? I have walked two nights without +resting. Let me finish my pipe, and I shall sleep like a child. Will you +wake me?” + +“Surely.” + +The wayfarer smoked his pipe out, put it in his breast, slipped off his +great wooden shoes, and lay down on his back on the heap of stones. He +was fast asleep directly. + +As the road-mender plied his dusty labour, and the hail-clouds, rolling +away, revealed bright bars and streaks of sky which were responded to +by silver gleams upon the landscape, the little man (who wore a red cap +now, in place of his blue one) seemed fascinated by the figure on the +heap of stones. His eyes were so often turned towards it, that he used +his tools mechanically, and, one would have said, to very poor account. +The bronze face, the shaggy black hair and beard, the coarse woollen +red cap, the rough medley dress of home-spun stuff and hairy skins of +beasts, the powerful frame attenuated by spare living, and the sullen +and desperate compression of the lips in sleep, inspired the mender +of roads with awe. The traveller had travelled far, and his feet were +footsore, and his ankles chafed and bleeding; his great shoes, stuffed +with leaves and grass, had been heavy to drag over the many long +leagues, and his clothes were chafed into holes, as he himself was into +sores. Stooping down beside him, the road-mender tried to get a peep at +secret weapons in his breast or where not; but, in vain, for he slept +with his arms crossed upon him, and set as resolutely as his lips. +Fortified towns with their stockades, guard-houses, gates, trenches, and +drawbridges, seemed to the mender of roads, to be so much air as against +this figure. And when he lifted his eyes from it to the horizon and +looked around, he saw in his small fancy similar figures, stopped by no +obstacle, tending to centres all over France. + +The man slept on, indifferent to showers of hail and intervals of +brightness, to sunshine on his face and shadow, to the paltering lumps +of dull ice on his body and the diamonds into which the sun changed +them, until the sun was low in the west, and the sky was glowing. Then, +the mender of roads having got his tools together and all things ready +to go down into the village, roused him. + +“Good!” said the sleeper, rising on his elbow. “Two leagues beyond the +summit of the hill?” + +“About.” + +“About. Good!” + +The mender of roads went home, with the dust going on before him +according to the set of the wind, and was soon at the fountain, +squeezing himself in among the lean kine brought there to drink, and +appearing even to whisper to them in his whispering to all the village. +When the village had taken its poor supper, it did not creep to bed, +as it usually did, but came out of doors again, and remained there. A +curious contagion of whispering was upon it, and also, when it gathered +together at the fountain in the dark, another curious contagion of +looking expectantly at the sky in one direction only. Monsieur Gabelle, +chief functionary of the place, became uneasy; went out on his house-top +alone, and looked in that direction too; glanced down from behind his +chimneys at the darkening faces by the fountain below, and sent word to +the sacristan who kept the keys of the church, that there might be need +to ring the tocsin by-and-bye. + +The night deepened. The trees environing the old chateau, keeping its +solitary state apart, moved in a rising wind, as though they threatened +the pile of building massive and dark in the gloom. Up the two terrace +flights of steps the rain ran wildly, and beat at the great door, like a +swift messenger rousing those within; uneasy rushes of wind went through +the hall, among the old spears and knives, and passed lamenting up the +stairs, and shook the curtains of the bed where the last Marquis +had slept. East, West, North, and South, through the woods, four +heavy-treading, unkempt figures crushed the high grass and cracked the +branches, striding on cautiously to come together in the courtyard. Four +lights broke out there, and moved away in different directions, and all +was black again. + +But, not for long. Presently, the chateau began to make itself strangely +visible by some light of its own, as though it were growing luminous. +Then, a flickering streak played behind the architecture of the front, +picking out transparent places, and showing where balustrades, arches, +and windows were. Then it soared higher, and grew broader and brighter. +Soon, from a score of the great windows, flames burst forth, and the +stone faces awakened, stared out of fire. + +A faint murmur arose about the house from the few people who were left +there, and there was a saddling of a horse and riding away. There was +spurring and splashing through the darkness, and bridle was drawn in the +space by the village fountain, and the horse in a foam stood at Monsieur +Gabelle's door. “Help, Gabelle! Help, every one!” The tocsin rang +impatiently, but other help (if that were any) there was none. The +mender of roads, and two hundred and fifty particular friends, stood +with folded arms at the fountain, looking at the pillar of fire in the +sky. “It must be forty feet high,” said they, grimly; and never moved. + +The rider from the chateau, and the horse in a foam, clattered away +through the village, and galloped up the stony steep, to the prison on +the crag. At the gate, a group of officers were looking at the fire; +removed from them, a group of soldiers. “Help, gentlemen--officers! The +chateau is on fire; valuable objects may be saved from the flames by +timely aid! Help, help!” The officers looked towards the soldiers who +looked at the fire; gave no orders; and answered, with shrugs and biting +of lips, “It must burn.” + +As the rider rattled down the hill again and through the street, the +village was illuminating. The mender of roads, and the two hundred and +fifty particular friends, inspired as one man and woman by the idea of +lighting up, had darted into their houses, and were putting candles in +every dull little pane of glass. The general scarcity of everything, +occasioned candles to be borrowed in a rather peremptory manner of +Monsieur Gabelle; and in a moment of reluctance and hesitation on +that functionary's part, the mender of roads, once so submissive to +authority, had remarked that carriages were good to make bonfires with, +and that post-horses would roast. + +The chateau was left to itself to flame and burn. In the roaring and +raging of the conflagration, a red-hot wind, driving straight from the +infernal regions, seemed to be blowing the edifice away. With the rising +and falling of the blaze, the stone faces showed as if they were in +torment. When great masses of stone and timber fell, the face with the +two dints in the nose became obscured: anon struggled out of the smoke +again, as if it were the face of the cruel Marquis, burning at the stake +and contending with the fire. + +The chateau burned; the nearest trees, laid hold of by the fire, +scorched and shrivelled; trees at a distance, fired by the four fierce +figures, begirt the blazing edifice with a new forest of smoke. Molten +lead and iron boiled in the marble basin of the fountain; the water ran +dry; the extinguisher tops of the towers vanished like ice before the +heat, and trickled down into four rugged wells of flame. Great rents and +splits branched out in the solid walls, like crystallisation; stupefied +birds wheeled about and dropped into the furnace; four fierce figures +trudged away, East, West, North, and South, along the night-enshrouded +roads, guided by the beacon they had lighted, towards their next +destination. The illuminated village had seized hold of the tocsin, and, +abolishing the lawful ringer, rang for joy. + +Not only that; but the village, light-headed with famine, fire, and +bell-ringing, and bethinking itself that Monsieur Gabelle had to do with +the collection of rent and taxes--though it was but a small instalment +of taxes, and no rent at all, that Gabelle had got in those latter +days--became impatient for an interview with him, and, surrounding his +house, summoned him to come forth for personal conference. Whereupon, +Monsieur Gabelle did heavily bar his door, and retire to hold counsel +with himself. The result of that conference was, that Gabelle again +withdrew himself to his housetop behind his stack of chimneys; this time +resolved, if his door were broken in (he was a small Southern man +of retaliative temperament), to pitch himself head foremost over the +parapet, and crush a man or two below. + +Probably, Monsieur Gabelle passed a long night up there, with the +distant chateau for fire and candle, and the beating at his door, +combined with the joy-ringing, for music; not to mention his having an +ill-omened lamp slung across the road before his posting-house gate, +which the village showed a lively inclination to displace in his favour. +A trying suspense, to be passing a whole summer night on the brink of +the black ocean, ready to take that plunge into it upon which Monsieur +Gabelle had resolved! But, the friendly dawn appearing at last, and the +rush-candles of the village guttering out, the people happily dispersed, +and Monsieur Gabelle came down bringing his life with him for that +while. + +Within a hundred miles, and in the light of other fires, there were +other functionaries less fortunate, that night and other nights, whom +the rising sun found hanging across once-peaceful streets, where they +had been born and bred; also, there were other villagers and townspeople +less fortunate than the mender of roads and his fellows, upon whom the +functionaries and soldiery turned with success, and whom they strung up +in their turn. But, the fierce figures were steadily wending East, West, +North, and South, be that as it would; and whosoever hung, fire burned. +The altitude of the gallows that would turn to water and quench it, +no functionary, by any stretch of mathematics, was able to calculate +successfully. + + + + +XXIV. Drawn to the Loadstone Rock + + +In such risings of fire and risings of sea--the firm earth shaken by +the rushes of an angry ocean which had now no ebb, but was always on the +flow, higher and higher, to the terror and wonder of the beholders on +the shore--three years of tempest were consumed. Three more birthdays +of little Lucie had been woven by the golden thread into the peaceful +tissue of the life of her home. + +Many a night and many a day had its inmates listened to the echoes in +the corner, with hearts that failed them when they heard the thronging +feet. For, the footsteps had become to their minds as the footsteps of +a people, tumultuous under a red flag and with their country declared in +danger, changed into wild beasts, by terrible enchantment long persisted +in. + +Monseigneur, as a class, had dissociated himself from the phenomenon of +his not being appreciated: of his being so little wanted in France, as +to incur considerable danger of receiving his dismissal from it, and +this life together. Like the fabled rustic who raised the Devil with +infinite pains, and was so terrified at the sight of him that he could +ask the Enemy no question, but immediately fled; so, Monseigneur, after +boldly reading the Lord's Prayer backwards for a great number of years, +and performing many other potent spells for compelling the Evil One, no +sooner beheld him in his terrors than he took to his noble heels. + +The shining Bull's Eye of the Court was gone, or it would have been the +mark for a hurricane of national bullets. It had never been a good +eye to see with--had long had the mote in it of Lucifer's pride, +Sardanapalus's luxury, and a mole's blindness--but it had dropped +out and was gone. The Court, from that exclusive inner circle to its +outermost rotten ring of intrigue, corruption, and dissimulation, was +all gone together. Royalty was gone; had been besieged in its Palace and +“suspended,” when the last tidings came over. + +The August of the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two was +come, and Monseigneur was by this time scattered far and wide. + +As was natural, the head-quarters and great gathering-place of +Monseigneur, in London, was Tellson's Bank. Spirits are supposed to +haunt the places where their bodies most resorted, and Monseigneur +without a guinea haunted the spot where his guineas used to be. +Moreover, it was the spot to which such French intelligence as was most +to be relied upon, came quickest. Again: Tellson's was a munificent +house, and extended great liberality to old customers who had fallen +from their high estate. Again: those nobles who had seen the coming +storm in time, and anticipating plunder or confiscation, had made +provident remittances to Tellson's, were always to be heard of there +by their needy brethren. To which it must be added that every new-comer +from France reported himself and his tidings at Tellson's, almost as +a matter of course. For such variety of reasons, Tellson's was at that +time, as to French intelligence, a kind of High Exchange; and this +was so well known to the public, and the inquiries made there were in +consequence so numerous, that Tellson's sometimes wrote the latest news +out in a line or so and posted it in the Bank windows, for all who ran +through Temple Bar to read. + +On a steaming, misty afternoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk, and Charles +Darnay stood leaning on it, talking with him in a low voice. The +penitential den once set apart for interviews with the House, was now +the news-Exchange, and was filled to overflowing. It was within half an +hour or so of the time of closing. + +“But, although you are the youngest man that ever lived,” said Charles +Darnay, rather hesitating, “I must still suggest to you--” + +“I understand. That I am too old?” said Mr. Lorry. + +“Unsettled weather, a long journey, uncertain means of travelling, a +disorganised country, a city that may not be even safe for you.” + +“My dear Charles,” said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence, “you touch +some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying away. It is safe +enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with an old fellow of hard +upon fourscore when there are so many people there much better worth +interfering with. As to its being a disorganised city, if it were not a +disorganised city there would be no occasion to send somebody from our +House here to our House there, who knows the city and the business, of +old, and is in Tellson's confidence. As to the uncertain travelling, the +long journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to submit +myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson's, after all +these years, who ought to be?” + +“I wish I were going myself,” said Charles Darnay, somewhat restlessly, +and like one thinking aloud. + +“Indeed! You are a pretty fellow to object and advise!” exclaimed Mr. +Lorry. “You wish you were going yourself? And you a Frenchman born? You +are a wise counsellor.” + +“My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that the +thought (which I did not mean to utter here, however) has passed through +my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having had some sympathy for +the miserable people, and having abandoned something to them,” he spoke +here in his former thoughtful manner, “that one might be listened to, +and might have the power to persuade to some restraint. Only last night, +after you had left us, when I was talking to Lucie--” + +“When you were talking to Lucie,” Mr. Lorry repeated. “Yes. I wonder you +are not ashamed to mention the name of Lucie! Wishing you were going to +France at this time of day!” + +“However, I am not going,” said Charles Darnay, with a smile. “It is +more to the purpose that you say you are.” + +“And I am, in plain reality. The truth is, my dear Charles,” Mr. Lorry +glanced at the distant House, and lowered his voice, “you can have no +conception of the difficulty with which our business is transacted, and +of the peril in which our books and papers over yonder are involved. The +Lord above knows what the compromising consequences would be to numbers +of people, if some of our documents were seized or destroyed; and they +might be, at any time, you know, for who can say that Paris is not set +afire to-day, or sacked to-morrow! Now, a judicious selection from these +with the least possible delay, and the burying of them, or otherwise +getting of them out of harm's way, is within the power (without loss of +precious time) of scarcely any one but myself, if any one. And shall +I hang back, when Tellson's knows this and says this--Tellson's, whose +bread I have eaten these sixty years--because I am a little stiff about +the joints? Why, I am a boy, sir, to half a dozen old codgers here!” + +“How I admire the gallantry of your youthful spirit, Mr. Lorry.” + +“Tut! Nonsense, sir!--And, my dear Charles,” said Mr. Lorry, glancing at +the House again, “you are to remember, that getting things out of +Paris at this present time, no matter what things, is next to an +impossibility. Papers and precious matters were this very day brought +to us here (I speak in strict confidence; it is not business-like to +whisper it, even to you), by the strangest bearers you can imagine, +every one of whom had his head hanging on by a single hair as he passed +the Barriers. At another time, our parcels would come and go, as easily +as in business-like Old England; but now, everything is stopped.” + +“And do you really go to-night?” + +“I really go to-night, for the case has become too pressing to admit of +delay.” + +“And do you take no one with you?” + +“All sorts of people have been proposed to me, but I will have nothing +to say to any of them. I intend to take Jerry. Jerry has been my +bodyguard on Sunday nights for a long time past and I am used to him. +Nobody will suspect Jerry of being anything but an English bull-dog, or +of having any design in his head but to fly at anybody who touches his +master.” + +“I must say again that I heartily admire your gallantry and +youthfulness.” + +“I must say again, nonsense, nonsense! When I have executed this little +commission, I shall, perhaps, accept Tellson's proposal to retire and +live at my ease. Time enough, then, to think about growing old.” + +This dialogue had taken place at Mr. Lorry's usual desk, with +Monseigneur swarming within a yard or two of it, boastful of what he +would do to avenge himself on the rascal-people before long. It was too +much the way of Monseigneur under his reverses as a refugee, and it +was much too much the way of native British orthodoxy, to talk of this +terrible Revolution as if it were the only harvest ever known under +the skies that had not been sown--as if nothing had ever been done, or +omitted to be done, that had led to it--as if observers of the wretched +millions in France, and of the misused and perverted resources that +should have made them prosperous, had not seen it inevitably coming, +years before, and had not in plain words recorded what they saw. Such +vapouring, combined with the extravagant plots of Monseigneur for the +restoration of a state of things that had utterly exhausted itself, +and worn out Heaven and earth as well as itself, was hard to be endured +without some remonstrance by any sane man who knew the truth. And it was +such vapouring all about his ears, like a troublesome confusion of blood +in his own head, added to a latent uneasiness in his mind, which had +already made Charles Darnay restless, and which still kept him so. + +Among the talkers, was Stryver, of the King's Bench Bar, far on his +way to state promotion, and, therefore, loud on the theme: broaching +to Monseigneur, his devices for blowing the people up and exterminating +them from the face of the earth, and doing without them: and for +accomplishing many similar objects akin in their nature to the abolition +of eagles by sprinkling salt on the tails of the race. Him, Darnay heard +with a particular feeling of objection; and Darnay stood divided between +going away that he might hear no more, and remaining to interpose his +word, when the thing that was to be, went on to shape itself out. + +The House approached Mr. Lorry, and laying a soiled and unopened letter +before him, asked if he had yet discovered any traces of the person to +whom it was addressed? The House laid the letter down so close to Darnay +that he saw the direction--the more quickly because it was his own right +name. The address, turned into English, ran: + +“Very pressing. To Monsieur heretofore the Marquis St. Evremonde, of +France. Confided to the cares of Messrs. Tellson and Co., Bankers, +London, England.” + +On the marriage morning, Doctor Manette had made it his one urgent and +express request to Charles Darnay, that the secret of this name should +be--unless he, the Doctor, dissolved the obligation--kept inviolate +between them. Nobody else knew it to be his name; his own wife had no +suspicion of the fact; Mr. Lorry could have none. + +“No,” said Mr. Lorry, in reply to the House; “I have referred it, +I think, to everybody now here, and no one can tell me where this +gentleman is to be found.” + +The hands of the clock verging upon the hour of closing the Bank, there +was a general set of the current of talkers past Mr. Lorry's desk. He +held the letter out inquiringly; and Monseigneur looked at it, in the +person of this plotting and indignant refugee; and Monseigneur looked at +it in the person of that plotting and indignant refugee; and This, That, +and The Other, all had something disparaging to say, in French or in +English, concerning the Marquis who was not to be found. + +“Nephew, I believe--but in any case degenerate successor--of the +polished Marquis who was murdered,” said one. “Happy to say, I never +knew him.” + +“A craven who abandoned his post,” said another--this Monseigneur had +been got out of Paris, legs uppermost and half suffocated, in a load of +hay--“some years ago.” + +“Infected with the new doctrines,” said a third, eyeing the direction +through his glass in passing; “set himself in opposition to the last +Marquis, abandoned the estates when he inherited them, and left them to +the ruffian herd. They will recompense him now, I hope, as he deserves.” + +“Hey?” cried the blatant Stryver. “Did he though? Is that the sort of +fellow? Let us look at his infamous name. D--n the fellow!” + +Darnay, unable to restrain himself any longer, touched Mr. Stryver on +the shoulder, and said: + +“I know the fellow.” + +“Do you, by Jupiter?” said Stryver. “I am sorry for it.” + +“Why?” + +“Why, Mr. Darnay? D'ye hear what he did? Don't ask, why, in these +times.” + +“But I do ask why?” + +“Then I tell you again, Mr. Darnay, I am sorry for it. I am sorry to +hear you putting any such extraordinary questions. Here is a fellow, +who, infected by the most pestilent and blasphemous code of devilry that +ever was known, abandoned his property to the vilest scum of the earth +that ever did murder by wholesale, and you ask me why I am sorry that a +man who instructs youth knows him? Well, but I'll answer you. I am sorry +because I believe there is contamination in such a scoundrel. That's +why.” + +Mindful of the secret, Darnay with great difficulty checked himself, and +said: “You may not understand the gentleman.” + +“I understand how to put _you_ in a corner, Mr. Darnay,” said Bully +Stryver, “and I'll do it. If this fellow is a gentleman, I _don't_ +understand him. You may tell him so, with my compliments. You may also +tell him, from me, that after abandoning his worldly goods and position +to this butcherly mob, I wonder he is not at the head of them. But, no, +gentlemen,” said Stryver, looking all round, and snapping his fingers, +“I know something of human nature, and I tell you that you'll never +find a fellow like this fellow, trusting himself to the mercies of such +precious _protégés_. No, gentlemen; he'll always show 'em a clean pair +of heels very early in the scuffle, and sneak away.” + +With those words, and a final snap of his fingers, Mr. Stryver +shouldered himself into Fleet-street, amidst the general approbation of +his hearers. Mr. Lorry and Charles Darnay were left alone at the desk, +in the general departure from the Bank. + +“Will you take charge of the letter?” said Mr. Lorry. “You know where to +deliver it?” + +“I do.” + +“Will you undertake to explain, that we suppose it to have been +addressed here, on the chance of our knowing where to forward it, and +that it has been here some time?” + +“I will do so. Do you start for Paris from here?” + +“From here, at eight.” + +“I will come back, to see you off.” + +Very ill at ease with himself, and with Stryver and most other men, +Darnay made the best of his way into the quiet of the Temple, opened the +letter, and read it. These were its contents: + + +“Prison of the Abbaye, Paris. + +“June 21, 1792. “MONSIEUR HERETOFORE THE MARQUIS. + +“After having long been in danger of my life at the hands of the +village, I have been seized, with great violence and indignity, and +brought a long journey on foot to Paris. On the road I have suffered a +great deal. Nor is that all; my house has been destroyed--razed to the +ground. + +“The crime for which I am imprisoned, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, +and for which I shall be summoned before the tribunal, and shall lose my +life (without your so generous help), is, they tell me, treason against +the majesty of the people, in that I have acted against them for an +emigrant. It is in vain I represent that I have acted for them, and not +against, according to your commands. It is in vain I represent that, +before the sequestration of emigrant property, I had remitted the +imposts they had ceased to pay; that I had collected no rent; that I had +had recourse to no process. The only response is, that I have acted for +an emigrant, and where is that emigrant? + +“Ah! most gracious Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, where is that +emigrant? I cry in my sleep where is he? I demand of Heaven, will he +not come to deliver me? No answer. Ah Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, +I send my desolate cry across the sea, hoping it may perhaps reach your +ears through the great bank of Tilson known at Paris! + +“For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of +your noble name, I supplicate you, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, to +succour and release me. My fault is, that I have been true to you. Oh +Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, I pray you be you true to me! + +“From this prison here of horror, whence I every hour tend nearer and +nearer to destruction, I send you, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis, the +assurance of my dolorous and unhappy service. + +“Your afflicted, + +“Gabelle.” + + +The latent uneasiness in Darnay's mind was roused to vigourous life +by this letter. The peril of an old servant and a good one, whose +only crime was fidelity to himself and his family, stared him so +reproachfully in the face, that, as he walked to and fro in the Temple +considering what to do, he almost hid his face from the passersby. + +He knew very well, that in his horror of the deed which had culminated +the bad deeds and bad reputation of the old family house, in his +resentful suspicions of his uncle, and in the aversion with which his +conscience regarded the crumbling fabric that he was supposed to uphold, +he had acted imperfectly. He knew very well, that in his love for Lucie, +his renunciation of his social place, though by no means new to his own +mind, had been hurried and incomplete. He knew that he ought to have +systematically worked it out and supervised it, and that he had meant to +do it, and that it had never been done. + +The happiness of his own chosen English home, the necessity of being +always actively employed, the swift changes and troubles of the time +which had followed on one another so fast, that the events of this week +annihilated the immature plans of last week, and the events of the week +following made all new again; he knew very well, that to the force of +these circumstances he had yielded:--not without disquiet, but still +without continuous and accumulating resistance. That he had watched +the times for a time of action, and that they had shifted and struggled +until the time had gone by, and the nobility were trooping from +France by every highway and byway, and their property was in course of +confiscation and destruction, and their very names were blotting out, +was as well known to himself as it could be to any new authority in +France that might impeach him for it. + +But, he had oppressed no man, he had imprisoned no man; he was so +far from having harshly exacted payment of his dues, that he had +relinquished them of his own will, thrown himself on a world with no +favour in it, won his own private place there, and earned his own +bread. Monsieur Gabelle had held the impoverished and involved estate +on written instructions, to spare the people, to give them what little +there was to give--such fuel as the heavy creditors would let them have +in the winter, and such produce as could be saved from the same grip in +the summer--and no doubt he had put the fact in plea and proof, for his +own safety, so that it could not but appear now. + +This favoured the desperate resolution Charles Darnay had begun to make, +that he would go to Paris. + +Yes. Like the mariner in the old story, the winds and streams had driven +him within the influence of the Loadstone Rock, and it was drawing him +to itself, and he must go. Everything that arose before his mind drifted +him on, faster and faster, more and more steadily, to the terrible +attraction. His latent uneasiness had been, that bad aims were being +worked out in his own unhappy land by bad instruments, and that he who +could not fail to know that he was better than they, was not there, +trying to do something to stay bloodshed, and assert the claims of mercy +and humanity. With this uneasiness half stifled, and half reproaching +him, he had been brought to the pointed comparison of himself with the +brave old gentleman in whom duty was so strong; upon that comparison +(injurious to himself) had instantly followed the sneers of Monseigneur, +which had stung him bitterly, and those of Stryver, which above all were +coarse and galling, for old reasons. Upon those, had followed Gabelle's +letter: the appeal of an innocent prisoner, in danger of death, to his +justice, honour, and good name. + +His resolution was made. He must go to Paris. + +Yes. The Loadstone Rock was drawing him, and he must sail on, until he +struck. He knew of no rock; he saw hardly any danger. The intention +with which he had done what he had done, even although he had left +it incomplete, presented it before him in an aspect that would be +gratefully acknowledged in France on his presenting himself to assert +it. Then, that glorious vision of doing good, which is so often the +sanguine mirage of so many good minds, arose before him, and he even +saw himself in the illusion with some influence to guide this raging +Revolution that was running so fearfully wild. + +As he walked to and fro with his resolution made, he considered that +neither Lucie nor her father must know of it until he was gone. +Lucie should be spared the pain of separation; and her father, always +reluctant to turn his thoughts towards the dangerous ground of old, +should come to the knowledge of the step, as a step taken, and not in +the balance of suspense and doubt. How much of the incompleteness of his +situation was referable to her father, through the painful anxiety +to avoid reviving old associations of France in his mind, he did not +discuss with himself. But, that circumstance too, had had its influence +in his course. + +He walked to and fro, with thoughts very busy, until it was time to +return to Tellson's and take leave of Mr. Lorry. As soon as he arrived +in Paris he would present himself to this old friend, but he must say +nothing of his intention now. + +A carriage with post-horses was ready at the Bank door, and Jerry was +booted and equipped. + +“I have delivered that letter,” said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry. “I +would not consent to your being charged with any written answer, but +perhaps you will take a verbal one?” + +“That I will, and readily,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it is not dangerous.” + +“Not at all. Though it is to a prisoner in the Abbaye.” + +“What is his name?” said Mr. Lorry, with his open pocket-book in his +hand. + +“Gabelle.” + +“Gabelle. And what is the message to the unfortunate Gabelle in prison?” + +“Simply, 'that he has received the letter, and will come.'” + +“Any time mentioned?” + +“He will start upon his journey to-morrow night.” + +“Any person mentioned?” + +“No.” + +He helped Mr. Lorry to wrap himself in a number of coats and cloaks, +and went out with him from the warm atmosphere of the old Bank, into the +misty air of Fleet-street. “My love to Lucie, and to little Lucie,” said +Mr. Lorry at parting, “and take precious care of them till I come back.” + Charles Darnay shook his head and doubtfully smiled, as the carriage +rolled away. + +That night--it was the fourteenth of August--he sat up late, and wrote +two fervent letters; one was to Lucie, explaining the strong obligation +he was under to go to Paris, and showing her, at length, the reasons +that he had, for feeling confident that he could become involved in no +personal danger there; the other was to the Doctor, confiding Lucie and +their dear child to his care, and dwelling on the same topics with the +strongest assurances. To both, he wrote that he would despatch letters +in proof of his safety, immediately after his arrival. + +It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first +reservation of their joint lives on his mind. It was a hard matter to +preserve the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly unsuspicious. +But, an affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him +resolute not to tell her what impended (he had been half moved to do it, +so strange it was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid), and +the day passed quickly. Early in the evening he embraced her, and her +scarcely less dear namesake, pretending that he would return by-and-bye +(an imaginary engagement took him out, and he had secreted a valise +of clothes ready), and so he emerged into the heavy mist of the heavy +streets, with a heavier heart. + +The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all the tides +and winds were setting straight and strong towards it. He left his +two letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour before +midnight, and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began his journey. +“For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the honour of +your noble name!” was the poor prisoner's cry with which he strengthened +his sinking heart, as he left all that was dear on earth behind him, and +floated away for the Loadstone Rock. + + +The end of the second book. + + + + + +Book the Third--the Track of a Storm + + + + +I. In Secret + + +The traveller fared slowly on his way, who fared towards Paris from +England in the autumn of the year one thousand seven hundred and +ninety-two. More than enough of bad roads, bad equipages, and bad +horses, he would have encountered to delay him, though the fallen and +unfortunate King of France had been upon his throne in all his glory; +but, the changed times were fraught with other obstacles than +these. Every town-gate and village taxing-house had its band of +citizen-patriots, with their national muskets in a most explosive state +of readiness, who stopped all comers and goers, cross-questioned them, +inspected their papers, looked for their names in lists of their own, +turned them back, or sent them on, or stopped them and laid them in +hold, as their capricious judgment or fancy deemed best for the dawning +Republic One and Indivisible, of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or +Death. + +A very few French leagues of his journey were accomplished, when Charles +Darnay began to perceive that for him along these country roads there +was no hope of return until he should have been declared a good citizen +at Paris. Whatever might befall now, he must on to his journey's end. +Not a mean village closed upon him, not a common barrier dropped across +the road behind him, but he knew it to be another iron door in +the series that was barred between him and England. The universal +watchfulness so encompassed him, that if he had been taken in a net, +or were being forwarded to his destination in a cage, he could not have +felt his freedom more completely gone. + +This universal watchfulness not only stopped him on the highway twenty +times in a stage, but retarded his progress twenty times in a day, by +riding after him and taking him back, riding before him and stopping him +by anticipation, riding with him and keeping him in charge. He had been +days upon his journey in France alone, when he went to bed tired out, in +a little town on the high road, still a long way from Paris. + +Nothing but the production of the afflicted Gabelle's letter from his +prison of the Abbaye would have got him on so far. His difficulty at the +guard-house in this small place had been such, that he felt his journey +to have come to a crisis. And he was, therefore, as little surprised as +a man could be, to find himself awakened at the small inn to which he +had been remitted until morning, in the middle of the night. + +Awakened by a timid local functionary and three armed patriots in rough +red caps and with pipes in their mouths, who sat down on the bed. + +“Emigrant,” said the functionary, “I am going to send you on to Paris, +under an escort.” + +“Citizen, I desire nothing more than to get to Paris, though I could +dispense with the escort.” + +“Silence!” growled a red-cap, striking at the coverlet with the butt-end +of his musket. “Peace, aristocrat!” + +“It is as the good patriot says,” observed the timid functionary. “You +are an aristocrat, and must have an escort--and must pay for it.” + +“I have no choice,” said Charles Darnay. + +“Choice! Listen to him!” cried the same scowling red-cap. “As if it was +not a favour to be protected from the lamp-iron!” + +“It is always as the good patriot says,” observed the functionary. “Rise +and dress yourself, emigrant.” + +Darnay complied, and was taken back to the guard-house, where other +patriots in rough red caps were smoking, drinking, and sleeping, by +a watch-fire. Here he paid a heavy price for his escort, and hence he +started with it on the wet, wet roads at three o'clock in the morning. + +The escort were two mounted patriots in red caps and tri-coloured +cockades, armed with national muskets and sabres, who rode one on either +side of him. + +The escorted governed his own horse, but a loose line was attached to +his bridle, the end of which one of the patriots kept girded round his +wrist. In this state they set forth with the sharp rain driving in their +faces: clattering at a heavy dragoon trot over the uneven town pavement, +and out upon the mire-deep roads. In this state they traversed without +change, except of horses and pace, all the mire-deep leagues that lay +between them and the capital. + +They travelled in the night, halting an hour or two after daybreak, and +lying by until the twilight fell. The escort were so wretchedly clothed, +that they twisted straw round their bare legs, and thatched their ragged +shoulders to keep the wet off. Apart from the personal discomfort of +being so attended, and apart from such considerations of present danger +as arose from one of the patriots being chronically drunk, and carrying +his musket very recklessly, Charles Darnay did not allow the restraint +that was laid upon him to awaken any serious fears in his breast; for, +he reasoned with himself that it could have no reference to the merits +of an individual case that was not yet stated, and of representations, +confirmable by the prisoner in the Abbaye, that were not yet made. + +But when they came to the town of Beauvais--which they did at eventide, +when the streets were filled with people--he could not conceal from +himself that the aspect of affairs was very alarming. An ominous crowd +gathered to see him dismount of the posting-yard, and many voices called +out loudly, “Down with the emigrant!” + +He stopped in the act of swinging himself out of his saddle, and, +resuming it as his safest place, said: + +“Emigrant, my friends! Do you not see me here, in France, of my own +will?” + +“You are a cursed emigrant,” cried a farrier, making at him in a +furious manner through the press, hammer in hand; “and you are a cursed +aristocrat!” + +The postmaster interposed himself between this man and the rider's +bridle (at which he was evidently making), and soothingly said, “Let him +be; let him be! He will be judged at Paris.” + +“Judged!” repeated the farrier, swinging his hammer. “Ay! and condemned +as a traitor.” At this the crowd roared approval. + +Checking the postmaster, who was for turning his horse's head to the +yard (the drunken patriot sat composedly in his saddle looking on, with +the line round his wrist), Darnay said, as soon as he could make his +voice heard: + +“Friends, you deceive yourselves, or you are deceived. I am not a +traitor.” + +“He lies!” cried the smith. “He is a traitor since the decree. His life +is forfeit to the people. His cursed life is not his own!” + +At the instant when Darnay saw a rush in the eyes of the crowd, which +another instant would have brought upon him, the postmaster turned his +horse into the yard, the escort rode in close upon his horse's flanks, +and the postmaster shut and barred the crazy double gates. The farrier +struck a blow upon them with his hammer, and the crowd groaned; but, no +more was done. + +“What is this decree that the smith spoke of?” Darnay asked the +postmaster, when he had thanked him, and stood beside him in the yard. + +“Truly, a decree for selling the property of emigrants.” + +“When passed?” + +“On the fourteenth.” + +“The day I left England!” + +“Everybody says it is but one of several, and that there will be +others--if there are not already--banishing all emigrants, and +condemning all to death who return. That is what he meant when he said +your life was not your own.” + +“But there are no such decrees yet?” + +“What do I know!” said the postmaster, shrugging his shoulders; “there +may be, or there will be. It is all the same. What would you have?” + +They rested on some straw in a loft until the middle of the night, and +then rode forward again when all the town was asleep. Among the many +wild changes observable on familiar things which made this wild ride +unreal, not the least was the seeming rarity of sleep. After long and +lonely spurring over dreary roads, they would come to a cluster of poor +cottages, not steeped in darkness, but all glittering with lights, and +would find the people, in a ghostly manner in the dead of the night, +circling hand in hand round a shrivelled tree of Liberty, or all drawn +up together singing a Liberty song. Happily, however, there was sleep in +Beauvais that night to help them out of it and they passed on once more +into solitude and loneliness: jingling through the untimely cold and +wet, among impoverished fields that had yielded no fruits of the earth +that year, diversified by the blackened remains of burnt houses, and by +the sudden emergence from ambuscade, and sharp reining up across their +way, of patriot patrols on the watch on all the roads. + +Daylight at last found them before the wall of Paris. The barrier was +closed and strongly guarded when they rode up to it. + +“Where are the papers of this prisoner?” demanded a resolute-looking man +in authority, who was summoned out by the guard. + +Naturally struck by the disagreeable word, Charles Darnay requested the +speaker to take notice that he was a free traveller and French citizen, +in charge of an escort which the disturbed state of the country had +imposed upon him, and which he had paid for. + +“Where,” repeated the same personage, without taking any heed of him +whatever, “are the papers of this prisoner?” + +The drunken patriot had them in his cap, and produced them. Casting his +eyes over Gabelle's letter, the same personage in authority showed some +disorder and surprise, and looked at Darnay with a close attention. + +He left escort and escorted without saying a word, however, and went +into the guard-room; meanwhile, they sat upon their horses outside the +gate. Looking about him while in this state of suspense, Charles +Darnay observed that the gate was held by a mixed guard of soldiers and +patriots, the latter far outnumbering the former; and that while ingress +into the city for peasants' carts bringing in supplies, and for similar +traffic and traffickers, was easy enough, egress, even for the homeliest +people, was very difficult. A numerous medley of men and women, not +to mention beasts and vehicles of various sorts, was waiting to issue +forth; but, the previous identification was so strict, that they +filtered through the barrier very slowly. Some of these people knew +their turn for examination to be so far off, that they lay down on the +ground to sleep or smoke, while others talked together, or loitered +about. The red cap and tri-colour cockade were universal, both among men +and women. + +When he had sat in his saddle some half-hour, taking note of these +things, Darnay found himself confronted by the same man in authority, +who directed the guard to open the barrier. Then he delivered to the +escort, drunk and sober, a receipt for the escorted, and requested him +to dismount. He did so, and the two patriots, leading his tired horse, +turned and rode away without entering the city. + +He accompanied his conductor into a guard-room, smelling of common wine +and tobacco, where certain soldiers and patriots, asleep and awake, +drunk and sober, and in various neutral states between sleeping and +waking, drunkenness and sobriety, were standing and lying about. The +light in the guard-house, half derived from the waning oil-lamps of +the night, and half from the overcast day, was in a correspondingly +uncertain condition. Some registers were lying open on a desk, and an +officer of a coarse, dark aspect, presided over these. + +“Citizen Defarge,” said he to Darnay's conductor, as he took a slip of +paper to write on. “Is this the emigrant Evremonde?” + +“This is the man.” + +“Your age, Evremonde?” + +“Thirty-seven.” + +“Married, Evremonde?” + +“Yes.” + +“Where married?” + +“In England.” + +“Without doubt. Where is your wife, Evremonde?” + +“In England.” + +“Without doubt. You are consigned, Evremonde, to the prison of La +Force.” + +“Just Heaven!” exclaimed Darnay. “Under what law, and for what offence?” + +The officer looked up from his slip of paper for a moment. + +“We have new laws, Evremonde, and new offences, since you were here.” He +said it with a hard smile, and went on writing. + +“I entreat you to observe that I have come here voluntarily, in response +to that written appeal of a fellow-countryman which lies before you. I +demand no more than the opportunity to do so without delay. Is not that +my right?” + +“Emigrants have no rights, Evremonde,” was the stolid reply. The officer +wrote until he had finished, read over to himself what he had written, +sanded it, and handed it to Defarge, with the words “In secret.” + +Defarge motioned with the paper to the prisoner that he must accompany +him. The prisoner obeyed, and a guard of two armed patriots attended +them. + +“Is it you,” said Defarge, in a low voice, as they went down the +guardhouse steps and turned into Paris, “who married the daughter of +Doctor Manette, once a prisoner in the Bastille that is no more?” + +“Yes,” replied Darnay, looking at him with surprise. + +“My name is Defarge, and I keep a wine-shop in the Quarter Saint +Antoine. Possibly you have heard of me.” + +“My wife came to your house to reclaim her father? Yes!” + +The word “wife” seemed to serve as a gloomy reminder to Defarge, to say +with sudden impatience, “In the name of that sharp female newly-born, +and called La Guillotine, why did you come to France?” + +“You heard me say why, a minute ago. Do you not believe it is the +truth?” + +“A bad truth for you,” said Defarge, speaking with knitted brows, and +looking straight before him. + +“Indeed I am lost here. All here is so unprecedented, so changed, so +sudden and unfair, that I am absolutely lost. Will you render me a +little help?” + +“None.” Defarge spoke, always looking straight before him. + +“Will you answer me a single question?” + +“Perhaps. According to its nature. You can say what it is.” + +“In this prison that I am going to so unjustly, shall I have some free +communication with the world outside?” + +“You will see.” + +“I am not to be buried there, prejudged, and without any means of +presenting my case?” + +“You will see. But, what then? Other people have been similarly buried +in worse prisons, before now.” + +“But never by me, Citizen Defarge.” + +Defarge glanced darkly at him for answer, and walked on in a steady +and set silence. The deeper he sank into this silence, the fainter hope +there was--or so Darnay thought--of his softening in any slight degree. +He, therefore, made haste to say: + +“It is of the utmost importance to me (you know, Citizen, even better +than I, of how much importance), that I should be able to communicate to +Mr. Lorry of Tellson's Bank, an English gentleman who is now in Paris, +the simple fact, without comment, that I have been thrown into the +prison of La Force. Will you cause that to be done for me?” + +“I will do,” Defarge doggedly rejoined, “nothing for you. My duty is to +my country and the People. I am the sworn servant of both, against you. +I will do nothing for you.” + +Charles Darnay felt it hopeless to entreat him further, and his pride +was touched besides. As they walked on in silence, he could not but see +how used the people were to the spectacle of prisoners passing along the +streets. The very children scarcely noticed him. A few passers turned +their heads, and a few shook their fingers at him as an aristocrat; +otherwise, that a man in good clothes should be going to prison, was no +more remarkable than that a labourer in working clothes should be +going to work. In one narrow, dark, and dirty street through which they +passed, an excited orator, mounted on a stool, was addressing an excited +audience on the crimes against the people, of the king and the royal +family. The few words that he caught from this man's lips, first made +it known to Charles Darnay that the king was in prison, and that the +foreign ambassadors had one and all left Paris. On the road (except at +Beauvais) he had heard absolutely nothing. The escort and the universal +watchfulness had completely isolated him. + +That he had fallen among far greater dangers than those which had +developed themselves when he left England, he of course knew now. That +perils had thickened about him fast, and might thicken faster and faster +yet, he of course knew now. He could not but admit to himself that he +might not have made this journey, if he could have foreseen the events +of a few days. And yet his misgivings were not so dark as, imagined by +the light of this later time, they would appear. Troubled as the future +was, it was the unknown future, and in its obscurity there was ignorant +hope. The horrible massacre, days and nights long, which, within a few +rounds of the clock, was to set a great mark of blood upon the blessed +garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his knowledge as if it had +been a hundred thousand years away. The “sharp female newly-born, and +called La Guillotine,” was hardly known to him, or to the generality +of people, by name. The frightful deeds that were to be soon done, were +probably unimagined at that time in the brains of the doers. How could +they have a place in the shadowy conceptions of a gentle mind? + +Of unjust treatment in detention and hardship, and in cruel separation +from his wife and child, he foreshadowed the likelihood, or the +certainty; but, beyond this, he dreaded nothing distinctly. With this on +his mind, which was enough to carry into a dreary prison courtyard, he +arrived at the prison of La Force. + +A man with a bloated face opened the strong wicket, to whom Defarge +presented “The Emigrant Evremonde.” + +“What the Devil! How many more of them!” exclaimed the man with the +bloated face. + +Defarge took his receipt without noticing the exclamation, and withdrew, +with his two fellow-patriots. + +“What the Devil, I say again!” exclaimed the gaoler, left with his wife. +“How many more!” + +The gaoler's wife, being provided with no answer to the question, merely +replied, “One must have patience, my dear!” Three turnkeys who entered +responsive to a bell she rang, echoed the sentiment, and one added, “For +the love of Liberty;” which sounded in that place like an inappropriate +conclusion. + +The prison of La Force was a gloomy prison, dark and filthy, and with a +horrible smell of foul sleep in it. Extraordinary how soon the noisome +flavour of imprisoned sleep, becomes manifest in all such places that +are ill cared for! + +“In secret, too,” grumbled the gaoler, looking at the written paper. “As +if I was not already full to bursting!” + +He stuck the paper on a file, in an ill-humour, and Charles Darnay +awaited his further pleasure for half an hour: sometimes, pacing to and +fro in the strong arched room: sometimes, resting on a stone seat: in +either case detained to be imprinted on the memory of the chief and his +subordinates. + +“Come!” said the chief, at length taking up his keys, “come with me, +emigrant.” + +Through the dismal prison twilight, his new charge accompanied him by +corridor and staircase, many doors clanging and locking behind them, +until they came into a large, low, vaulted chamber, crowded with +prisoners of both sexes. The women were seated at a long table, reading +and writing, knitting, sewing, and embroidering; the men were for the +most part standing behind their chairs, or lingering up and down the +room. + +In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and +disgrace, the new-comer recoiled from this company. But the crowning +unreality of his long unreal ride, was, their all at once rising to +receive him, with every refinement of manner known to the time, and with +all the engaging graces and courtesies of life. + +So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and +gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and +misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand +in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost +of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of +frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all +waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes +that were changed by the death they had died in coming there. + +It struck him motionless. The gaoler standing at his side, and the other +gaolers moving about, who would have been well enough as to appearance +in the ordinary exercise of their functions, looked so extravagantly +coarse contrasted with sorrowing mothers and blooming daughters who were +there--with the apparitions of the coquette, the young beauty, and the +mature woman delicately bred--that the inversion of all experience and +likelihood which the scene of shadows presented, was heightened to its +utmost. Surely, ghosts all. Surely, the long unreal ride some progress +of disease that had brought him to these gloomy shades! + +“In the name of the assembled companions in misfortune,” said a +gentleman of courtly appearance and address, coming forward, “I have the +honour of giving you welcome to La Force, and of condoling with you +on the calamity that has brought you among us. May it soon terminate +happily! It would be an impertinence elsewhere, but it is not so here, +to ask your name and condition?” + +Charles Darnay roused himself, and gave the required information, in +words as suitable as he could find. + +“But I hope,” said the gentleman, following the chief gaoler with his +eyes, who moved across the room, “that you are not in secret?” + +“I do not understand the meaning of the term, but I have heard them say +so.” + +“Ah, what a pity! We so much regret it! But take courage; several +members of our society have been in secret, at first, and it has lasted +but a short time.” Then he added, raising his voice, “I grieve to inform +the society--in secret.” + +There was a murmur of commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the room +to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him, and many voices--among +which, the soft and compassionate voices of women were conspicuous--gave +him good wishes and encouragement. He turned at the grated door, to +render the thanks of his heart; it closed under the gaoler's hand; and +the apparitions vanished from his sight forever. + +The wicket opened on a stone staircase, leading upward. When they had +ascended forty steps (the prisoner of half an hour already counted +them), the gaoler opened a low black door, and they passed into a +solitary cell. It struck cold and damp, but was not dark. + +“Yours,” said the gaoler. + +“Why am I confined alone?” + +“How do I know!” + +“I can buy pen, ink, and paper?” + +“Such are not my orders. You will be visited, and can ask then. At +present, you may buy your food, and nothing more.” + +There were in the cell, a chair, a table, and a straw mattress. As +the gaoler made a general inspection of these objects, and of the four +walls, before going out, a wandering fancy wandered through the mind of +the prisoner leaning against the wall opposite to him, that this gaoler +was so unwholesomely bloated, both in face and person, as to look like +a man who had been drowned and filled with water. When the gaoler was +gone, he thought in the same wandering way, “Now am I left, as if I were +dead.” Stopping then, to look down at the mattress, he turned from it +with a sick feeling, and thought, “And here in these crawling creatures +is the first condition of the body after death.” + +“Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five +paces by four and a half.” The prisoner walked to and fro in his cell, +counting its measurement, and the roar of the city arose like muffled +drums with a wild swell of voices added to them. “He made shoes, he made +shoes, he made shoes.” The prisoner counted the measurement again, and +paced faster, to draw his mind with him from that latter repetition. +“The ghosts that vanished when the wicket closed. There was one among +them, the appearance of a lady dressed in black, who was leaning in the +embrasure of a window, and she had a light shining upon her golden +hair, and she looked like * * * * Let us ride on again, for God's sake, +through the illuminated villages with the people all awake! * * * * He +made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes. * * * * Five paces by four and +a half.” With such scraps tossing and rolling upward from the depths of +his mind, the prisoner walked faster and faster, obstinately counting +and counting; and the roar of the city changed to this extent--that it +still rolled in like muffled drums, but with the wail of voices that he +knew, in the swell that rose above them. + + + + +II. The Grindstone + + +Tellson's Bank, established in the Saint Germain Quarter of Paris, was +in a wing of a large house, approached by a courtyard and shut off from +the street by a high wall and a strong gate. The house belonged to +a great nobleman who had lived in it until he made a flight from the +troubles, in his own cook's dress, and got across the borders. A +mere beast of the chase flying from hunters, he was still in his +metempsychosis no other than the same Monseigneur, the preparation +of whose chocolate for whose lips had once occupied three strong men +besides the cook in question. + +Monseigneur gone, and the three strong men absolving themselves from the +sin of having drawn his high wages, by being more than ready and +willing to cut his throat on the altar of the dawning Republic one and +indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, Monseigneur's +house had been first sequestrated, and then confiscated. For, all +things moved so fast, and decree followed decree with that fierce +precipitation, that now upon the third night of the autumn month +of September, patriot emissaries of the law were in possession of +Monseigneur's house, and had marked it with the tri-colour, and were +drinking brandy in its state apartments. + +A place of business in London like Tellson's place of business in Paris, +would soon have driven the House out of its mind and into the Gazette. +For, what would staid British responsibility and respectability have +said to orange-trees in boxes in a Bank courtyard, and even to a Cupid +over the counter? Yet such things were. Tellson's had whitewashed the +Cupid, but he was still to be seen on the ceiling, in the coolest +linen, aiming (as he very often does) at money from morning to +night. Bankruptcy must inevitably have come of this young Pagan, in +Lombard-street, London, and also of a curtained alcove in the rear of +the immortal boy, and also of a looking-glass let into the wall, and +also of clerks not at all old, who danced in public on the slightest +provocation. Yet, a French Tellson's could get on with these things +exceedingly well, and, as long as the times held together, no man had +taken fright at them, and drawn out his money. + +What money would be drawn out of Tellson's henceforth, and what would +lie there, lost and forgotten; what plate and jewels would tarnish in +Tellson's hiding-places, while the depositors rusted in prisons, +and when they should have violently perished; how many accounts with +Tellson's never to be balanced in this world, must be carried over into +the next; no man could have said, that night, any more than Mr. Jarvis +Lorry could, though he thought heavily of these questions. He sat by +a newly-lighted wood fire (the blighted and unfruitful year was +prematurely cold), and on his honest and courageous face there was a +deeper shade than the pendent lamp could throw, or any object in the +room distortedly reflect--a shade of horror. + +He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of which +he had grown to be a part, like strong root-ivy. It chanced that they +derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation of the main +building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never calculated about +that. All such circumstances were indifferent to him, so that he did +his duty. On the opposite side of the courtyard, under a colonnade, +was extensive standing--for carriages--where, indeed, some carriages +of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of the pillars were fastened two +great flaring flambeaux, and in the light of these, standing out in the +open air, was a large grindstone: a roughly mounted thing which appeared +to have hurriedly been brought there from some neighbouring smithy, +or other workshop. Rising and looking out of window at these harmless +objects, Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had +opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it, and +he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame. + +From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate, there came +the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an indescribable ring +in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted sounds of a terrible +nature were going up to Heaven. + +“Thank God,” said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, “that no one near and +dear to me is in this dreadful town to-night. May He have mercy on all +who are in danger!” + +Soon afterwards, the bell at the great gate sounded, and he thought, +“They have come back!” and sat listening. But, there was no loud +irruption into the courtyard, as he had expected, and he heard the gate +clash again, and all was quiet. + +The nervousness and dread that were upon him inspired that vague +uneasiness respecting the Bank, which a great change would naturally +awaken, with such feelings roused. It was well guarded, and he got up to +go among the trusty people who were watching it, when his door suddenly +opened, and two figures rushed in, at sight of which he fell back in +amazement. + +Lucie and her father! Lucie with her arms stretched out to him, and with +that old look of earnestness so concentrated and intensified, that it +seemed as though it had been stamped upon her face expressly to give +force and power to it in this one passage of her life. + +“What is this?” cried Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused. “What is the +matter? Lucie! Manette! What has happened? What has brought you here? +What is it?” + +With the look fixed upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she panted +out in his arms, imploringly, “O my dear friend! My husband!” + +“Your husband, Lucie?” + +“Charles.” + +“What of Charles?” + +“Here. + +“Here, in Paris?” + +“Has been here some days--three or four--I don't know how many--I can't +collect my thoughts. An errand of generosity brought him here unknown to +us; he was stopped at the barrier, and sent to prison.” + +The old man uttered an irrepressible cry. Almost at the same moment, the +bell of the great gate rang again, and a loud noise of feet and voices +came pouring into the courtyard. + +“What is that noise?” said the Doctor, turning towards the window. + +“Don't look!” cried Mr. Lorry. “Don't look out! Manette, for your life, +don't touch the blind!” + +The Doctor turned, with his hand upon the fastening of the window, and +said, with a cool, bold smile: + +“My dear friend, I have a charmed life in this city. I have been +a Bastille prisoner. There is no patriot in Paris--in Paris? In +France--who, knowing me to have been a prisoner in the Bastille, would +touch me, except to overwhelm me with embraces, or carry me in triumph. +My old pain has given me a power that has brought us through the +barrier, and gained us news of Charles there, and brought us here. I +knew it would be so; I knew I could help Charles out of all danger; I +told Lucie so.--What is that noise?” His hand was again upon the window. + +“Don't look!” cried Mr. Lorry, absolutely desperate. “No, Lucie, my +dear, nor you!” He got his arm round her, and held her. “Don't be so +terrified, my love. I solemnly swear to you that I know of no harm +having happened to Charles; that I had no suspicion even of his being in +this fatal place. What prison is he in?” + +“La Force!” + +“La Force! Lucie, my child, if ever you were brave and serviceable in +your life--and you were always both--you will compose yourself now, to +do exactly as I bid you; for more depends upon it than you can think, or +I can say. There is no help for you in any action on your part to-night; +you cannot possibly stir out. I say this, because what I must bid you +to do for Charles's sake, is the hardest thing to do of all. You must +instantly be obedient, still, and quiet. You must let me put you in a +room at the back here. You must leave your father and me alone for +two minutes, and as there are Life and Death in the world you must not +delay.” + +“I will be submissive to you. I see in your face that you know I can do +nothing else than this. I know you are true.” + +The old man kissed her, and hurried her into his room, and turned the +key; then, came hurrying back to the Doctor, and opened the window and +partly opened the blind, and put his hand upon the Doctor's arm, and +looked out with him into the courtyard. + +Looked out upon a throng of men and women: not enough in number, or near +enough, to fill the courtyard: not more than forty or fifty in all. The +people in possession of the house had let them in at the gate, and they +had rushed in to work at the grindstone; it had evidently been set up +there for their purpose, as in a convenient and retired spot. + +But, such awful workers, and such awful work! + +The grindstone had a double handle, and, turning at it madly were two +men, whose faces, as their long hair flapped back when the whirlings of +the grindstone brought their faces up, were more horrible and cruel than +the visages of the wildest savages in their most barbarous disguise. +False eyebrows and false moustaches were stuck upon them, and their +hideous countenances were all bloody and sweaty, and all awry with +howling, and all staring and glaring with beastly excitement and want of +sleep. As these ruffians turned and turned, their matted locks now flung +forward over their eyes, now flung backward over their necks, some women +held wine to their mouths that they might drink; and what with dropping +blood, and what with dropping wine, and what with the stream of sparks +struck out of the stone, all their wicked atmosphere seemed gore and +fire. The eye could not detect one creature in the group free from +the smear of blood. Shouldering one another to get next at the +sharpening-stone, were men stripped to the waist, with the stain all +over their limbs and bodies; men in all sorts of rags, with the stain +upon those rags; men devilishly set off with spoils of women's lace +and silk and ribbon, with the stain dyeing those trifles through +and through. Hatchets, knives, bayonets, swords, all brought to be +sharpened, were all red with it. Some of the hacked swords were tied to +the wrists of those who carried them, with strips of linen and fragments +of dress: ligatures various in kind, but all deep of the one colour. And +as the frantic wielders of these weapons snatched them from the stream +of sparks and tore away into the streets, the same red hue was red in +their frenzied eyes;--eyes which any unbrutalised beholder would have +given twenty years of life, to petrify with a well-directed gun. + +All this was seen in a moment, as the vision of a drowning man, or of +any human creature at any very great pass, could see a world if it +were there. They drew back from the window, and the Doctor looked for +explanation in his friend's ashy face. + +“They are,” Mr. Lorry whispered the words, glancing fearfully round at +the locked room, “murdering the prisoners. If you are sure of what you +say; if you really have the power you think you have--as I believe you +have--make yourself known to these devils, and get taken to La Force. It +may be too late, I don't know, but let it not be a minute later!” + +Doctor Manette pressed his hand, hastened bareheaded out of the room, +and was in the courtyard when Mr. Lorry regained the blind. + +His streaming white hair, his remarkable face, and the impetuous +confidence of his manner, as he put the weapons aside like water, +carried him in an instant to the heart of the concourse at the stone. +For a few moments there was a pause, and a hurry, and a murmur, and +the unintelligible sound of his voice; and then Mr. Lorry saw him, +surrounded by all, and in the midst of a line of twenty men long, all +linked shoulder to shoulder, and hand to shoulder, hurried out with +cries of--“Live the Bastille prisoner! Help for the Bastille prisoner's +kindred in La Force! Room for the Bastille prisoner in front there! Save +the prisoner Evremonde at La Force!” and a thousand answering shouts. + +He closed the lattice again with a fluttering heart, closed the window +and the curtain, hastened to Lucie, and told her that her father was +assisted by the people, and gone in search of her husband. He found +her child and Miss Pross with her; but, it never occurred to him to be +surprised by their appearance until a long time afterwards, when he sat +watching them in such quiet as the night knew. + +Lucie had, by that time, fallen into a stupor on the floor at his feet, +clinging to his hand. Miss Pross had laid the child down on his own +bed, and her head had gradually fallen on the pillow beside her pretty +charge. O the long, long night, with the moans of the poor wife! And O +the long, long night, with no return of her father and no tidings! + +Twice more in the darkness the bell at the great gate sounded, and the +irruption was repeated, and the grindstone whirled and spluttered. +“What is it?” cried Lucie, affrighted. “Hush! The soldiers' swords are +sharpened there,” said Mr. Lorry. “The place is national property now, +and used as a kind of armoury, my love.” + +Twice more in all; but, the last spell of work was feeble and fitful. +Soon afterwards the day began to dawn, and he softly detached himself +from the clasping hand, and cautiously looked out again. A man, so +besmeared that he might have been a sorely wounded soldier creeping back +to consciousness on a field of slain, was rising from the pavement by +the side of the grindstone, and looking about him with a vacant air. +Shortly, this worn-out murderer descried in the imperfect light one of +the carriages of Monseigneur, and, staggering to that gorgeous vehicle, +climbed in at the door, and shut himself up to take his rest on its +dainty cushions. + +The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, +and the sun was red on the courtyard. But, the lesser grindstone stood +alone there in the calm morning air, with a red upon it that the sun had +never given, and would never take away. + + + + +III. The Shadow + + +One of the first considerations which arose in the business mind of Mr. +Lorry when business hours came round, was this:--that he had no right to +imperil Tellson's by sheltering the wife of an emigrant prisoner under +the Bank roof. His own possessions, safety, life, he would have hazarded +for Lucie and her child, without a moment's demur; but the great trust +he held was not his own, and as to that business charge he was a strict +man of business. + +At first, his mind reverted to Defarge, and he thought of finding out +the wine-shop again and taking counsel with its master in reference to +the safest dwelling-place in the distracted state of the city. But, the +same consideration that suggested him, repudiated him; he lived in the +most violent Quarter, and doubtless was influential there, and deep in +its dangerous workings. + +Noon coming, and the Doctor not returning, and every minute's delay +tending to compromise Tellson's, Mr. Lorry advised with Lucie. She said +that her father had spoken of hiring a lodging for a short term, in that +Quarter, near the Banking-house. As there was no business objection to +this, and as he foresaw that even if it were all well with Charles, and +he were to be released, he could not hope to leave the city, Mr. Lorry +went out in quest of such a lodging, and found a suitable one, high up +in a removed by-street where the closed blinds in all the other windows +of a high melancholy square of buildings marked deserted homes. + +To this lodging he at once removed Lucie and her child, and Miss Pross: +giving them what comfort he could, and much more than he had himself. +He left Jerry with them, as a figure to fill a doorway that would bear +considerable knocking on the head, and returned to his own occupations. +A disturbed and doleful mind he brought to bear upon them, and slowly +and heavily the day lagged on with him. + +It wore itself out, and wore him out with it, until the Bank closed. He +was again alone in his room of the previous night, considering what to +do next, when he heard a foot upon the stair. In a few moments, a +man stood in his presence, who, with a keenly observant look at him, +addressed him by his name. + +“Your servant,” said Mr. Lorry. “Do you know me?” + +He was a strongly made man with dark curling hair, from forty-five +to fifty years of age. For answer he repeated, without any change of +emphasis, the words: + +“Do you know me?” + +“I have seen you somewhere.” + +“Perhaps at my wine-shop?” + +Much interested and agitated, Mr. Lorry said: “You come from Doctor +Manette?” + +“Yes. I come from Doctor Manette.” + +“And what says he? What does he send me?” + +Defarge gave into his anxious hand, an open scrap of paper. It bore the +words in the Doctor's writing: + + “Charles is safe, but I cannot safely leave this place yet. + I have obtained the favour that the bearer has a short note + from Charles to his wife. Let the bearer see his wife.” + +It was dated from La Force, within an hour. + +“Will you accompany me,” said Mr. Lorry, joyfully relieved after reading +this note aloud, “to where his wife resides?” + +“Yes,” returned Defarge. + +Scarcely noticing as yet, in what a curiously reserved and mechanical +way Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into the +courtyard. There, they found two women; one, knitting. + +“Madame Defarge, surely!” said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactly +the same attitude some seventeen years ago. + +“It is she,” observed her husband. + +“Does Madame go with us?” inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she moved as +they moved. + +“Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the persons. +It is for their safety.” + +Beginning to be struck by Defarge's manner, Mr. Lorry looked dubiously +at him, and led the way. Both the women followed; the second woman being +The Vengeance. + +They passed through the intervening streets as quickly as they might, +ascended the staircase of the new domicile, were admitted by Jerry, +and found Lucie weeping, alone. She was thrown into a transport by the +tidings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husband, and clasped the hand that +delivered his note--little thinking what it had been doing near him in +the night, and might, but for a chance, have done to him. + + “DEAREST,--Take courage. I am well, and your father has + influence around me. You cannot answer this. + Kiss our child for me.” + +That was all the writing. It was so much, however, to her who received +it, that she turned from Defarge to his wife, and kissed one of the +hands that knitted. It was a passionate, loving, thankful, womanly +action, but the hand made no response--dropped cold and heavy, and took +to its knitting again. + +There was something in its touch that gave Lucie a check. She stopped in +the act of putting the note in her bosom, and, with her hands yet at her +neck, looked terrified at Madame Defarge. Madame Defarge met the lifted +eyebrows and forehead with a cold, impassive stare. + +“My dear,” said Mr. Lorry, striking in to explain; “there are frequent +risings in the streets; and, although it is not likely they will ever +trouble you, Madame Defarge wishes to see those whom she has the power +to protect at such times, to the end that she may know them--that she +may identify them. I believe,” said Mr. Lorry, rather halting in his +reassuring words, as the stony manner of all the three impressed itself +upon him more and more, “I state the case, Citizen Defarge?” + +Defarge looked gloomily at his wife, and gave no other answer than a +gruff sound of acquiescence. + +“You had better, Lucie,” said Mr. Lorry, doing all he could to +propitiate, by tone and manner, “have the dear child here, and our +good Pross. Our good Pross, Defarge, is an English lady, and knows no +French.” + +The lady in question, whose rooted conviction that she was more than a +match for any foreigner, was not to be shaken by distress and, danger, +appeared with folded arms, and observed in English to The Vengeance, +whom her eyes first encountered, “Well, I am sure, Boldface! I hope +_you_ are pretty well!” She also bestowed a British cough on Madame +Defarge; but, neither of the two took much heed of her. + +“Is that his child?” said Madame Defarge, stopping in her work for the +first time, and pointing her knitting-needle at little Lucie as if it +were the finger of Fate. + +“Yes, madame,” answered Mr. Lorry; “this is our poor prisoner's darling +daughter, and only child.” + +The shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed to fall so +threatening and dark on the child, that her mother instinctively +kneeled on the ground beside her, and held her to her breast. The +shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed then to fall, +threatening and dark, on both the mother and the child. + +“It is enough, my husband,” said Madame Defarge. “I have seen them. We +may go.” + +But, the suppressed manner had enough of menace in it--not visible and +presented, but indistinct and withheld--to alarm Lucie into saying, as +she laid her appealing hand on Madame Defarge's dress: + +“You will be good to my poor husband. You will do him no harm. You will +help me to see him if you can?” + +“Your husband is not my business here,” returned Madame Defarge, looking +down at her with perfect composure. “It is the daughter of your father +who is my business here.” + +“For my sake, then, be merciful to my husband. For my child's sake! She +will put her hands together and pray you to be merciful. We are more +afraid of you than of these others.” + +Madame Defarge received it as a compliment, and looked at her husband. +Defarge, who had been uneasily biting his thumb-nail and looking at her, +collected his face into a sterner expression. + +“What is it that your husband says in that little letter?” asked Madame +Defarge, with a lowering smile. “Influence; he says something touching +influence?” + +“That my father,” said Lucie, hurriedly taking the paper from her +breast, but with her alarmed eyes on her questioner and not on it, “has +much influence around him.” + +“Surely it will release him!” said Madame Defarge. “Let it do so.” + +“As a wife and mother,” cried Lucie, most earnestly, “I implore you to +have pity on me and not to exercise any power that you possess, against +my innocent husband, but to use it in his behalf. O sister-woman, think +of me. As a wife and mother!” + +Madame Defarge looked, coldly as ever, at the suppliant, and said, +turning to her friend The Vengeance: + +“The wives and mothers we have been used to see, since we were as little +as this child, and much less, have not been greatly considered? We have +known _their_ husbands and fathers laid in prison and kept from them, +often enough? All our lives, we have seen our sister-women suffer, in +themselves and in their children, poverty, nakedness, hunger, thirst, +sickness, misery, oppression and neglect of all kinds?” + +“We have seen nothing else,” returned The Vengeance. + +“We have borne this a long time,” said Madame Defarge, turning her eyes +again upon Lucie. “Judge you! Is it likely that the trouble of one wife +and mother would be much to us now?” + +She resumed her knitting and went out. The Vengeance followed. Defarge +went last, and closed the door. + +“Courage, my dear Lucie,” said Mr. Lorry, as he raised her. “Courage, +courage! So far all goes well with us--much, much better than it has of +late gone with many poor souls. Cheer up, and have a thankful heart.” + +“I am not thankless, I hope, but that dreadful woman seems to throw a +shadow on me and on all my hopes.” + +“Tut, tut!” said Mr. Lorry; “what is this despondency in the brave +little breast? A shadow indeed! No substance in it, Lucie.” + +But the shadow of the manner of these Defarges was dark upon himself, +for all that, and in his secret mind it troubled him greatly. + + + + +IV. Calm in Storm + + +Doctor Manette did not return until the morning of the fourth day of his +absence. So much of what had happened in that dreadful time as could be +kept from the knowledge of Lucie was so well concealed from her, that +not until long afterwards, when France and she were far apart, did she +know that eleven hundred defenceless prisoners of both sexes and all +ages had been killed by the populace; that four days and nights had been +darkened by this deed of horror; and that the air around her had been +tainted by the slain. She only knew that there had been an attack upon +the prisons, that all political prisoners had been in danger, and that +some had been dragged out by the crowd and murdered. + +To Mr. Lorry, the Doctor communicated under an injunction of secrecy on +which he had no need to dwell, that the crowd had taken him through a +scene of carnage to the prison of La Force. That, in the prison he had +found a self-appointed Tribunal sitting, before which the prisoners were +brought singly, and by which they were rapidly ordered to be put forth +to be massacred, or to be released, or (in a few cases) to be sent back +to their cells. That, presented by his conductors to this Tribunal, he +had announced himself by name and profession as having been for eighteen +years a secret and unaccused prisoner in the Bastille; that, one of the +body so sitting in judgment had risen and identified him, and that this +man was Defarge. + +That, hereupon he had ascertained, through the registers on the table, +that his son-in-law was among the living prisoners, and had pleaded hard +to the Tribunal--of whom some members were asleep and some awake, some +dirty with murder and some clean, some sober and some not--for his life +and liberty. That, in the first frantic greetings lavished on himself as +a notable sufferer under the overthrown system, it had been accorded +to him to have Charles Darnay brought before the lawless Court, and +examined. That, he seemed on the point of being at once released, when +the tide in his favour met with some unexplained check (not intelligible +to the Doctor), which led to a few words of secret conference. That, +the man sitting as President had then informed Doctor Manette that +the prisoner must remain in custody, but should, for his sake, be held +inviolate in safe custody. That, immediately, on a signal, the prisoner +was removed to the interior of the prison again; but, that he, the +Doctor, had then so strongly pleaded for permission to remain and +assure himself that his son-in-law was, through no malice or mischance, +delivered to the concourse whose murderous yells outside the gate had +often drowned the proceedings, that he had obtained the permission, and +had remained in that Hall of Blood until the danger was over. + +The sights he had seen there, with brief snatches of food and sleep by +intervals, shall remain untold. The mad joy over the prisoners who were +saved, had astounded him scarcely less than the mad ferocity against +those who were cut to pieces. One prisoner there was, he said, who had +been discharged into the street free, but at whom a mistaken savage had +thrust a pike as he passed out. Being besought to go to him and dress +the wound, the Doctor had passed out at the same gate, and had found him +in the arms of a company of Samaritans, who were seated on the bodies +of their victims. With an inconsistency as monstrous as anything in this +awful nightmare, they had helped the healer, and tended the wounded man +with the gentlest solicitude--had made a litter for him and escorted him +carefully from the spot--had then caught up their weapons and plunged +anew into a butchery so dreadful, that the Doctor had covered his eyes +with his hands, and swooned away in the midst of it. + +As Mr. Lorry received these confidences, and as he watched the face of +his friend now sixty-two years of age, a misgiving arose within him that +such dread experiences would revive the old danger. + +But, he had never seen his friend in his present aspect: he had never +at all known him in his present character. For the first time the Doctor +felt, now, that his suffering was strength and power. For the first time +he felt that in that sharp fire, he had slowly forged the iron which +could break the prison door of his daughter's husband, and deliver him. +“It all tended to a good end, my friend; it was not mere waste and ruin. +As my beloved child was helpful in restoring me to myself, I will be +helpful now in restoring the dearest part of herself to her; by the aid +of Heaven I will do it!” Thus, Doctor Manette. And when Jarvis Lorry saw +the kindled eyes, the resolute face, the calm strong look and bearing +of the man whose life always seemed to him to have been stopped, like a +clock, for so many years, and then set going again with an energy which +had lain dormant during the cessation of its usefulness, he believed. + +Greater things than the Doctor had at that time to contend with, would +have yielded before his persevering purpose. While he kept himself +in his place, as a physician, whose business was with all degrees +of mankind, bond and free, rich and poor, bad and good, he used his +personal influence so wisely, that he was soon the inspecting physician +of three prisons, and among them of La Force. He could now assure Lucie +that her husband was no longer confined alone, but was mixed with the +general body of prisoners; he saw her husband weekly, and brought sweet +messages to her, straight from his lips; sometimes her husband himself +sent a letter to her (though never by the Doctor's hand), but she was +not permitted to write to him: for, among the many wild suspicions of +plots in the prisons, the wildest of all pointed at emigrants who were +known to have made friends or permanent connections abroad. + +This new life of the Doctor's was an anxious life, no doubt; still, the +sagacious Mr. Lorry saw that there was a new sustaining pride in it. +Nothing unbecoming tinged the pride; it was a natural and worthy one; +but he observed it as a curiosity. The Doctor knew, that up to that +time, his imprisonment had been associated in the minds of his daughter +and his friend, with his personal affliction, deprivation, and weakness. +Now that this was changed, and he knew himself to be invested through +that old trial with forces to which they both looked for Charles's +ultimate safety and deliverance, he became so far exalted by the change, +that he took the lead and direction, and required them as the weak, to +trust to him as the strong. The preceding relative positions of himself +and Lucie were reversed, yet only as the liveliest gratitude and +affection could reverse them, for he could have had no pride but in +rendering some service to her who had rendered so much to him. “All +curious to see,” thought Mr. Lorry, in his amiably shrewd way, “but all +natural and right; so, take the lead, my dear friend, and keep it; it +couldn't be in better hands.” + +But, though the Doctor tried hard, and never ceased trying, to get +Charles Darnay set at liberty, or at least to get him brought to trial, +the public current of the time set too strong and fast for him. The new +era began; the king was tried, doomed, and beheaded; the Republic of +Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death, declared for victory or death +against the world in arms; the black flag waved night and day from the +great towers of Notre Dame; three hundred thousand men, summoned to rise +against the tyrants of the earth, rose from all the varying soils +of France, as if the dragon's teeth had been sown broadcast, and +had yielded fruit equally on hill and plain, on rock, in gravel, and +alluvial mud, under the bright sky of the South and under the clouds of +the North, in fell and forest, in the vineyards and the olive-grounds +and among the cropped grass and the stubble of the corn, along the +fruitful banks of the broad rivers, and in the sand of the sea-shore. +What private solicitude could rear itself against the deluge of the Year +One of Liberty--the deluge rising from below, not falling from above, +and with the windows of Heaven shut, not opened! + +There was no pause, no pity, no peace, no interval of relenting rest, no +measurement of time. Though days and nights circled as regularly as when +time was young, and the evening and morning were the first day, other +count of time there was none. Hold of it was lost in the raging fever +of a nation, as it is in the fever of one patient. Now, breaking the +unnatural silence of a whole city, the executioner showed the people the +head of the king--and now, it seemed almost in the same breath, the +head of his fair wife which had had eight weary months of imprisoned +widowhood and misery, to turn it grey. + +And yet, observing the strange law of contradiction which obtains in +all such cases, the time was long, while it flamed by so fast. A +revolutionary tribunal in the capital, and forty or fifty thousand +revolutionary committees all over the land; a law of the Suspected, +which struck away all security for liberty or life, and delivered over +any good and innocent person to any bad and guilty one; prisons gorged +with people who had committed no offence, and could obtain no hearing; +these things became the established order and nature of appointed +things, and seemed to be ancient usage before they were many weeks old. +Above all, one hideous figure grew as familiar as if it had been before +the general gaze from the foundations of the world--the figure of the +sharp female called La Guillotine. + +It was the popular theme for jests; it was the best cure for headache, +it infallibly prevented the hair from turning grey, it imparted a +peculiar delicacy to the complexion, it was the National Razor which +shaved close: who kissed La Guillotine, looked through the little window +and sneezed into the sack. It was the sign of the regeneration of the +human race. It superseded the Cross. Models of it were worn on breasts +from which the Cross was discarded, and it was bowed down to and +believed in where the Cross was denied. + +It sheared off heads so many, that it, and the ground it most polluted, +were a rotten red. It was taken to pieces, like a toy-puzzle for a young +Devil, and was put together again when the occasion wanted it. It hushed +the eloquent, struck down the powerful, abolished the beautiful and +good. Twenty-two friends of high public mark, twenty-one living and one +dead, it had lopped the heads off, in one morning, in as many minutes. +The name of the strong man of Old Scripture had descended to the chief +functionary who worked it; but, so armed, he was stronger than his +namesake, and blinder, and tore away the gates of God's own Temple every +day. + +Among these terrors, and the brood belonging to them, the Doctor walked +with a steady head: confident in his power, cautiously persistent in his +end, never doubting that he would save Lucie's husband at last. Yet the +current of the time swept by, so strong and deep, and carried the time +away so fiercely, that Charles had lain in prison one year and three +months when the Doctor was thus steady and confident. So much more +wicked and distracted had the Revolution grown in that December month, +that the rivers of the South were encumbered with the bodies of the +violently drowned by night, and prisoners were shot in lines and squares +under the southern wintry sun. Still, the Doctor walked among the +terrors with a steady head. No man better known than he, in Paris at +that day; no man in a stranger situation. Silent, humane, indispensable +in hospital and prison, using his art equally among assassins and +victims, he was a man apart. In the exercise of his skill, the +appearance and the story of the Bastille Captive removed him from all +other men. He was not suspected or brought in question, any more than if +he had indeed been recalled to life some eighteen years before, or were +a Spirit moving among mortals. + + + + +V. The Wood-Sawyer + + +One year and three months. During all that time Lucie was never +sure, from hour to hour, but that the Guillotine would strike off her +husband's head next day. Every day, through the stony streets, the +tumbrils now jolted heavily, filled with Condemned. Lovely girls; bright +women, brown-haired, black-haired, and grey; youths; stalwart men and +old; gentle born and peasant born; all red wine for La Guillotine, all +daily brought into light from the dark cellars of the loathsome prisons, +and carried to her through the streets to slake her devouring thirst. +Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death;--the last, much the easiest to +bestow, O Guillotine! + +If the suddenness of her calamity, and the whirling wheels of the time, +had stunned the Doctor's daughter into awaiting the result in idle +despair, it would but have been with her as it was with many. But, from +the hour when she had taken the white head to her fresh young bosom in +the garret of Saint Antoine, she had been true to her duties. She was +truest to them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good +will always be. + +As soon as they were established in their new residence, and her father +had entered on the routine of his avocations, she arranged the little +household as exactly as if her husband had been there. Everything had +its appointed place and its appointed time. Little Lucie she taught, +as regularly, as if they had all been united in their English home. The +slight devices with which she cheated herself into the show of a belief +that they would soon be reunited--the little preparations for his speedy +return, the setting aside of his chair and his books--these, and the +solemn prayer at night for one dear prisoner especially, among the many +unhappy souls in prison and the shadow of death--were almost the only +outspoken reliefs of her heavy mind. + +She did not greatly alter in appearance. The plain dark dresses, akin to +mourning dresses, which she and her child wore, were as neat and as well +attended to as the brighter clothes of happy days. She lost her colour, +and the old and intent expression was a constant, not an occasional, +thing; otherwise, she remained very pretty and comely. Sometimes, at +night on kissing her father, she would burst into the grief she had +repressed all day, and would say that her sole reliance, under Heaven, +was on him. He always resolutely answered: “Nothing can happen to him +without my knowledge, and I know that I can save him, Lucie.” + +They had not made the round of their changed life many weeks, when her +father said to her, on coming home one evening: + +“My dear, there is an upper window in the prison, to which Charles can +sometimes gain access at three in the afternoon. When he can get to +it--which depends on many uncertainties and incidents--he might see you +in the street, he thinks, if you stood in a certain place that I can +show you. But you will not be able to see him, my poor child, and even +if you could, it would be unsafe for you to make a sign of recognition.” + +“O show me the place, my father, and I will go there every day.” + +From that time, in all weathers, she waited there two hours. As the +clock struck two, she was there, and at four she turned resignedly away. +When it was not too wet or inclement for her child to be with her, they +went together; at other times she was alone; but, she never missed a +single day. + +It was the dark and dirty corner of a small winding street. The hovel +of a cutter of wood into lengths for burning, was the only house at that +end; all else was wall. On the third day of her being there, he noticed +her. + +“Good day, citizeness.” + +“Good day, citizen.” + +This mode of address was now prescribed by decree. It had been +established voluntarily some time ago, among the more thorough patriots; +but, was now law for everybody. + +“Walking here again, citizeness?” + +“You see me, citizen!” + +The wood-sawyer, who was a little man with a redundancy of gesture (he +had once been a mender of roads), cast a glance at the prison, pointed +at the prison, and putting his ten fingers before his face to represent +bars, peeped through them jocosely. + +“But it's not my business,” said he. And went on sawing his wood. + +Next day he was looking out for her, and accosted her the moment she +appeared. + +“What? Walking here again, citizeness?” + +“Yes, citizen.” + +“Ah! A child too! Your mother, is it not, my little citizeness?” + +“Do I say yes, mamma?” whispered little Lucie, drawing close to her. + +“Yes, dearest.” + +“Yes, citizen.” + +“Ah! But it's not my business. My work is my business. See my saw! I +call it my Little Guillotine. La, la, la; La, la, la! And off his head +comes!” + +The billet fell as he spoke, and he threw it into a basket. + +“I call myself the Samson of the firewood guillotine. See here again! +Loo, loo, loo; Loo, loo, loo! And off _her_ head comes! Now, a child. +Tickle, tickle; Pickle, pickle! And off _its_ head comes. All the +family!” + +Lucie shuddered as he threw two more billets into his basket, but it was +impossible to be there while the wood-sawyer was at work, and not be in +his sight. Thenceforth, to secure his good will, she always spoke to him +first, and often gave him drink-money, which he readily received. + +He was an inquisitive fellow, and sometimes when she had quite forgotten +him in gazing at the prison roof and grates, and in lifting her heart +up to her husband, she would come to herself to find him looking at her, +with his knee on his bench and his saw stopped in its work. “But it's +not my business!” he would generally say at those times, and would +briskly fall to his sawing again. + +In all weathers, in the snow and frost of winter, in the bitter winds of +spring, in the hot sunshine of summer, in the rains of autumn, and again +in the snow and frost of winter, Lucie passed two hours of every day at +this place; and every day on leaving it, she kissed the prison wall. +Her husband saw her (so she learned from her father) it might be once in +five or six times: it might be twice or thrice running: it might be, not +for a week or a fortnight together. It was enough that he could and did +see her when the chances served, and on that possibility she would have +waited out the day, seven days a week. + +These occupations brought her round to the December month, wherein her +father walked among the terrors with a steady head. On a lightly-snowing +afternoon she arrived at the usual corner. It was a day of some wild +rejoicing, and a festival. She had seen the houses, as she came along, +decorated with little pikes, and with little red caps stuck upon them; +also, with tricoloured ribbons; also, with the standard inscription +(tricoloured letters were the favourite), Republic One and Indivisible. +Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death! + +The miserable shop of the wood-sawyer was so small, that its whole +surface furnished very indifferent space for this legend. He had got +somebody to scrawl it up for him, however, who had squeezed Death in +with most inappropriate difficulty. On his house-top, he displayed pike +and cap, as a good citizen must, and in a window he had stationed his +saw inscribed as his “Little Sainte Guillotine”--for the great sharp +female was by that time popularly canonised. His shop was shut and he +was not there, which was a relief to Lucie, and left her quite alone. + +But, he was not far off, for presently she heard a troubled movement +and a shouting coming along, which filled her with fear. A moment +afterwards, and a throng of people came pouring round the corner by the +prison wall, in the midst of whom was the wood-sawyer hand in hand with +The Vengeance. There could not be fewer than five hundred people, and +they were dancing like five thousand demons. There was no other music +than their own singing. They danced to the popular Revolution song, +keeping a ferocious time that was like a gnashing of teeth in unison. +Men and women danced together, women danced together, men danced +together, as hazard had brought them together. At first, they were a +mere storm of coarse red caps and coarse woollen rags; but, as they +filled the place, and stopped to dance about Lucie, some ghastly +apparition of a dance-figure gone raving mad arose among them. They +advanced, retreated, struck at one another's hands, clutched at one +another's heads, spun round alone, caught one another and spun round +in pairs, until many of them dropped. While those were down, the rest +linked hand in hand, and all spun round together: then the ring broke, +and in separate rings of two and four they turned and turned until they +all stopped at once, began again, struck, clutched, and tore, and then +reversed the spin, and all spun round another way. Suddenly they stopped +again, paused, struck out the time afresh, formed into lines the width +of the public way, and, with their heads low down and their hands high +up, swooped screaming off. No fight could have been half so terrible +as this dance. It was so emphatically a fallen sport--a something, once +innocent, delivered over to all devilry--a healthy pastime changed into +a means of angering the blood, bewildering the senses, and steeling the +heart. Such grace as was visible in it, made it the uglier, showing how +warped and perverted all things good by nature were become. The maidenly +bosom bared to this, the pretty almost-child's head thus distracted, the +delicate foot mincing in this slough of blood and dirt, were types of +the disjointed time. + +This was the Carmagnole. As it passed, leaving Lucie frightened and +bewildered in the doorway of the wood-sawyer's house, the feathery snow +fell as quietly and lay as white and soft, as if it had never been. + +“O my father!” for he stood before her when she lifted up the eyes she +had momentarily darkened with her hand; “such a cruel, bad sight.” + +“I know, my dear, I know. I have seen it many times. Don't be +frightened! Not one of them would harm you.” + +“I am not frightened for myself, my father. But when I think of my +husband, and the mercies of these people--” + +“We will set him above their mercies very soon. I left him climbing to +the window, and I came to tell you. There is no one here to see. You may +kiss your hand towards that highest shelving roof.” + +“I do so, father, and I send him my Soul with it!” + +“You cannot see him, my poor dear?” + +“No, father,” said Lucie, yearning and weeping as she kissed her hand, +“no.” + +A footstep in the snow. Madame Defarge. “I salute you, citizeness,” + from the Doctor. “I salute you, citizen.” This in passing. Nothing more. +Madame Defarge gone, like a shadow over the white road. + +“Give me your arm, my love. Pass from here with an air of cheerfulness +and courage, for his sake. That was well done;” they had left the spot; +“it shall not be in vain. Charles is summoned for to-morrow.” + +“For to-morrow!” + +“There is no time to lose. I am well prepared, but there are precautions +to be taken, that could not be taken until he was actually summoned +before the Tribunal. He has not received the notice yet, but I know +that he will presently be summoned for to-morrow, and removed to the +Conciergerie; I have timely information. You are not afraid?” + +She could scarcely answer, “I trust in you.” + +“Do so, implicitly. Your suspense is nearly ended, my darling; he shall +be restored to you within a few hours; I have encompassed him with every +protection. I must see Lorry.” + +He stopped. There was a heavy lumbering of wheels within hearing. They +both knew too well what it meant. One. Two. Three. Three tumbrils faring +away with their dread loads over the hushing snow. + +“I must see Lorry,” the Doctor repeated, turning her another way. + +The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left it. He +and his books were in frequent requisition as to property confiscated +and made national. What he could save for the owners, he saved. No +better man living to hold fast by what Tellson's had in keeping, and to +hold his peace. + +A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine, denoted +the approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they arrived at the +Bank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was altogether blighted and +deserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes in the court, ran the letters: +National Property. Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, +Fraternity, or Death! + +Who could that be with Mr. Lorry--the owner of the riding-coat upon the +chair--who must not be seen? From whom newly arrived, did he come out, +agitated and surprised, to take his favourite in his arms? To whom did +he appear to repeat her faltering words, when, raising his voice and +turning his head towards the door of the room from which he had issued, +he said: “Removed to the Conciergerie, and summoned for to-morrow?” + + + + +VI. Triumph + + +The dread tribunal of five Judges, Public Prosecutor, and determined +Jury, sat every day. Their lists went forth every evening, and were +read out by the gaolers of the various prisons to their prisoners. The +standard gaoler-joke was, “Come out and listen to the Evening Paper, you +inside there!” + +“Charles Evremonde, called Darnay!” + +So at last began the Evening Paper at La Force. + +When a name was called, its owner stepped apart into a spot reserved +for those who were announced as being thus fatally recorded. Charles +Evremonde, called Darnay, had reason to know the usage; he had seen +hundreds pass away so. + +His bloated gaoler, who wore spectacles to read with, glanced over them +to assure himself that he had taken his place, and went through the +list, making a similar short pause at each name. There were twenty-three +names, but only twenty were responded to; for one of the prisoners so +summoned had died in gaol and been forgotten, and two had already been +guillotined and forgotten. The list was read, in the vaulted chamber +where Darnay had seen the associated prisoners on the night of his +arrival. Every one of those had perished in the massacre; every human +creature he had since cared for and parted with, had died on the +scaffold. + +There were hurried words of farewell and kindness, but the parting was +soon over. It was the incident of every day, and the society of La Force +were engaged in the preparation of some games of forfeits and a little +concert, for that evening. They crowded to the grates and shed tears +there; but, twenty places in the projected entertainments had to be +refilled, and the time was, at best, short to the lock-up hour, when the +common rooms and corridors would be delivered over to the great dogs +who kept watch there through the night. The prisoners were far from +insensible or unfeeling; their ways arose out of the condition of the +time. Similarly, though with a subtle difference, a species of fervour +or intoxication, known, without doubt, to have led some persons to +brave the guillotine unnecessarily, and to die by it, was not mere +boastfulness, but a wild infection of the wildly shaken public mind. In +seasons of pestilence, some of us will have a secret attraction to the +disease--a terrible passing inclination to die of it. And all of us have +like wonders hidden in our breasts, only needing circumstances to evoke +them. + +The passage to the Conciergerie was short and dark; the night in its +vermin-haunted cells was long and cold. Next day, fifteen prisoners were +put to the bar before Charles Darnay's name was called. All the fifteen +were condemned, and the trials of the whole occupied an hour and a half. + +“Charles Evremonde, called Darnay,” was at length arraigned. + +His judges sat upon the Bench in feathered hats; but the rough red cap +and tricoloured cockade was the head-dress otherwise prevailing. Looking +at the Jury and the turbulent audience, he might have thought that the +usual order of things was reversed, and that the felons were trying the +honest men. The lowest, cruelest, and worst populace of a city, never +without its quantity of low, cruel, and bad, were the directing +spirits of the scene: noisily commenting, applauding, disapproving, +anticipating, and precipitating the result, without a check. Of the men, +the greater part were armed in various ways; of the women, some wore +knives, some daggers, some ate and drank as they looked on, many +knitted. Among these last, was one, with a spare piece of knitting under +her arm as she worked. She was in a front row, by the side of a man whom +he had never seen since his arrival at the Barrier, but whom he directly +remembered as Defarge. He noticed that she once or twice whispered in +his ear, and that she seemed to be his wife; but, what he most noticed +in the two figures was, that although they were posted as close to +himself as they could be, they never looked towards him. They seemed to +be waiting for something with a dogged determination, and they looked at +the Jury, but at nothing else. Under the President sat Doctor Manette, +in his usual quiet dress. As well as the prisoner could see, he and Mr. +Lorry were the only men there, unconnected with the Tribunal, who +wore their usual clothes, and had not assumed the coarse garb of the +Carmagnole. + +Charles Evremonde, called Darnay, was accused by the public prosecutor +as an emigrant, whose life was forfeit to the Republic, under the decree +which banished all emigrants on pain of Death. It was nothing that the +decree bore date since his return to France. There he was, and there was +the decree; he had been taken in France, and his head was demanded. + +“Take off his head!” cried the audience. “An enemy to the Republic!” + +The President rang his bell to silence those cries, and asked the +prisoner whether it was not true that he had lived many years in +England? + +Undoubtedly it was. + +Was he not an emigrant then? What did he call himself? + +Not an emigrant, he hoped, within the sense and spirit of the law. + +Why not? the President desired to know. + +Because he had voluntarily relinquished a title that was distasteful +to him, and a station that was distasteful to him, and had left +his country--he submitted before the word emigrant in the present +acceptation by the Tribunal was in use--to live by his own industry in +England, rather than on the industry of the overladen people of France. + +What proof had he of this? + +He handed in the names of two witnesses; Theophile Gabelle, and +Alexandre Manette. + +But he had married in England? the President reminded him. + +True, but not an English woman. + +A citizeness of France? + +Yes. By birth. + +Her name and family? + +“Lucie Manette, only daughter of Doctor Manette, the good physician who +sits there.” + +This answer had a happy effect upon the audience. Cries in exaltation +of the well-known good physician rent the hall. So capriciously were +the people moved, that tears immediately rolled down several ferocious +countenances which had been glaring at the prisoner a moment before, as +if with impatience to pluck him out into the streets and kill him. + +On these few steps of his dangerous way, Charles Darnay had set his foot +according to Doctor Manette's reiterated instructions. The same cautious +counsel directed every step that lay before him, and had prepared every +inch of his road. + +The President asked, why had he returned to France when he did, and not +sooner? + +He had not returned sooner, he replied, simply because he had no means +of living in France, save those he had resigned; whereas, in England, +he lived by giving instruction in the French language and literature. +He had returned when he did, on the pressing and written entreaty of +a French citizen, who represented that his life was endangered by his +absence. He had come back, to save a citizen's life, and to bear his +testimony, at whatever personal hazard, to the truth. Was that criminal +in the eyes of the Republic? + +The populace cried enthusiastically, “No!” and the President rang his +bell to quiet them. Which it did not, for they continued to cry “No!” + until they left off, of their own will. + +The President required the name of that citizen. The accused explained +that the citizen was his first witness. He also referred with confidence +to the citizen's letter, which had been taken from him at the Barrier, +but which he did not doubt would be found among the papers then before +the President. + +The Doctor had taken care that it should be there--had assured him that +it would be there--and at this stage of the proceedings it was produced +and read. Citizen Gabelle was called to confirm it, and did so. Citizen +Gabelle hinted, with infinite delicacy and politeness, that in the +pressure of business imposed on the Tribunal by the multitude of +enemies of the Republic with which it had to deal, he had been slightly +overlooked in his prison of the Abbaye--in fact, had rather passed out +of the Tribunal's patriotic remembrance--until three days ago; when he +had been summoned before it, and had been set at liberty on the Jury's +declaring themselves satisfied that the accusation against him was +answered, as to himself, by the surrender of the citizen Evremonde, +called Darnay. + +Doctor Manette was next questioned. His high personal popularity, +and the clearness of his answers, made a great impression; but, as he +proceeded, as he showed that the Accused was his first friend on his +release from his long imprisonment; that, the accused had remained in +England, always faithful and devoted to his daughter and himself in +their exile; that, so far from being in favour with the Aristocrat +government there, he had actually been tried for his life by it, as +the foe of England and friend of the United States--as he brought these +circumstances into view, with the greatest discretion and with the +straightforward force of truth and earnestness, the Jury and the +populace became one. At last, when he appealed by name to Monsieur +Lorry, an English gentleman then and there present, who, like himself, +had been a witness on that English trial and could corroborate his +account of it, the Jury declared that they had heard enough, and that +they were ready with their votes if the President were content to +receive them. + +At every vote (the Jurymen voted aloud and individually), the populace +set up a shout of applause. All the voices were in the prisoner's +favour, and the President declared him free. + +Then, began one of those extraordinary scenes with which the populace +sometimes gratified their fickleness, or their better impulses towards +generosity and mercy, or which they regarded as some set-off against +their swollen account of cruel rage. No man can decide now to which of +these motives such extraordinary scenes were referable; it is probable, +to a blending of all the three, with the second predominating. No sooner +was the acquittal pronounced, than tears were shed as freely as blood +at another time, and such fraternal embraces were bestowed upon the +prisoner by as many of both sexes as could rush at him, that after +his long and unwholesome confinement he was in danger of fainting from +exhaustion; none the less because he knew very well, that the very same +people, carried by another current, would have rushed at him with +the very same intensity, to rend him to pieces and strew him over the +streets. + +His removal, to make way for other accused persons who were to be tried, +rescued him from these caresses for the moment. Five were to be tried +together, next, as enemies of the Republic, forasmuch as they had not +assisted it by word or deed. So quick was the Tribunal to compensate +itself and the nation for a chance lost, that these five came down to +him before he left the place, condemned to die within twenty-four +hours. The first of them told him so, with the customary prison sign +of Death--a raised finger--and they all added in words, “Long live the +Republic!” + +The five had had, it is true, no audience to lengthen their proceedings, +for when he and Doctor Manette emerged from the gate, there was a great +crowd about it, in which there seemed to be every face he had seen in +Court--except two, for which he looked in vain. On his coming out, the +concourse made at him anew, weeping, embracing, and shouting, all by +turns and all together, until the very tide of the river on the bank of +which the mad scene was acted, seemed to run mad, like the people on the +shore. + +They put him into a great chair they had among them, and which they had +taken either out of the Court itself, or one of its rooms or passages. +Over the chair they had thrown a red flag, and to the back of it they +had bound a pike with a red cap on its top. In this car of triumph, not +even the Doctor's entreaties could prevent his being carried to his home +on men's shoulders, with a confused sea of red caps heaving about him, +and casting up to sight from the stormy deep such wrecks of faces, that +he more than once misdoubted his mind being in confusion, and that he +was in the tumbril on his way to the Guillotine. + +In wild dreamlike procession, embracing whom they met and pointing +him out, they carried him on. Reddening the snowy streets with the +prevailing Republican colour, in winding and tramping through them, as +they had reddened them below the snow with a deeper dye, they carried +him thus into the courtyard of the building where he lived. Her father +had gone on before, to prepare her, and when her husband stood upon his +feet, she dropped insensible in his arms. + +As he held her to his heart and turned her beautiful head between his +face and the brawling crowd, so that his tears and her lips might come +together unseen, a few of the people fell to dancing. Instantly, all the +rest fell to dancing, and the courtyard overflowed with the Carmagnole. +Then, they elevated into the vacant chair a young woman from the +crowd to be carried as the Goddess of Liberty, and then swelling and +overflowing out into the adjacent streets, and along the river's bank, +and over the bridge, the Carmagnole absorbed them every one and whirled +them away. + +After grasping the Doctor's hand, as he stood victorious and proud +before him; after grasping the hand of Mr. Lorry, who came panting in +breathless from his struggle against the waterspout of the Carmagnole; +after kissing little Lucie, who was lifted up to clasp her arms round +his neck; and after embracing the ever zealous and faithful Pross who +lifted her; he took his wife in his arms, and carried her up to their +rooms. + +“Lucie! My own! I am safe.” + +“O dearest Charles, let me thank God for this on my knees as I have +prayed to Him.” + +They all reverently bowed their heads and hearts. When she was again in +his arms, he said to her: + +“And now speak to your father, dearest. No other man in all this France +could have done what he has done for me.” + +She laid her head upon her father's breast, as she had laid his poor +head on her own breast, long, long ago. He was happy in the return he +had made her, he was recompensed for his suffering, he was proud of his +strength. “You must not be weak, my darling,” he remonstrated; “don't +tremble so. I have saved him.” + + + + +VII. A Knock at the Door + + +“I have saved him.” It was not another of the dreams in which he had +often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a +vague but heavy fear was upon her. + +All the air round was so thick and dark, the people were so passionately +revengeful and fitful, the innocent were so constantly put to death on +vague suspicion and black malice, it was so impossible to forget that +many as blameless as her husband and as dear to others as he was to +her, every day shared the fate from which he had been clutched, that her +heart could not be as lightened of its load as she felt it ought to be. +The shadows of the wintry afternoon were beginning to fall, and even now +the dreadful carts were rolling through the streets. Her mind pursued +them, looking for him among the Condemned; and then she clung closer to +his real presence and trembled more. + +Her father, cheering her, showed a compassionate superiority to this +woman's weakness, which was wonderful to see. No garret, no shoemaking, +no One Hundred and Five, North Tower, now! He had accomplished the task +he had set himself, his promise was redeemed, he had saved Charles. Let +them all lean upon him. + +Their housekeeping was of a very frugal kind: not only because that was +the safest way of life, involving the least offence to the people, but +because they were not rich, and Charles, throughout his imprisonment, +had had to pay heavily for his bad food, and for his guard, and towards +the living of the poorer prisoners. Partly on this account, and +partly to avoid a domestic spy, they kept no servant; the citizen and +citizeness who acted as porters at the courtyard gate, rendered them +occasional service; and Jerry (almost wholly transferred to them by +Mr. Lorry) had become their daily retainer, and had his bed there every +night. + +It was an ordinance of the Republic One and Indivisible of Liberty, +Equality, Fraternity, or Death, that on the door or doorpost of every +house, the name of every inmate must be legibly inscribed in letters +of a certain size, at a certain convenient height from the ground. Mr. +Jerry Cruncher's name, therefore, duly embellished the doorpost down +below; and, as the afternoon shadows deepened, the owner of that name +himself appeared, from overlooking a painter whom Doctor Manette had +employed to add to the list the name of Charles Evremonde, called +Darnay. + +In the universal fear and distrust that darkened the time, all the usual +harmless ways of life were changed. In the Doctor's little household, as +in very many others, the articles of daily consumption that were wanted +were purchased every evening, in small quantities and at various small +shops. To avoid attracting notice, and to give as little occasion as +possible for talk and envy, was the general desire. + +For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr. Cruncher had discharged the +office of purveyors; the former carrying the money; the latter, the +basket. Every afternoon at about the time when the public lamps were +lighted, they fared forth on this duty, and made and brought home +such purchases as were needful. Although Miss Pross, through her long +association with a French family, might have known as much of their +language as of her own, if she had had a mind, she had no mind in that +direction; consequently she knew no more of that “nonsense” (as she was +pleased to call it) than Mr. Cruncher did. So her manner of marketing +was to plump a noun-substantive at the head of a shopkeeper without any +introduction in the nature of an article, and, if it happened not to be +the name of the thing she wanted, to look round for that thing, lay hold +of it, and hold on by it until the bargain was concluded. She always +made a bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement of its just price, +one finger less than the merchant held up, whatever his number might be. + +“Now, Mr. Cruncher,” said Miss Pross, whose eyes were red with felicity; +“if you are ready, I am.” + +Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss Pross's service. He had worn +all his rust off long ago, but nothing would file his spiky head down. + +“There's all manner of things wanted,” said Miss Pross, “and we shall +have a precious time of it. We want wine, among the rest. Nice toasts +these Redheads will be drinking, wherever we buy it.” + +“It will be much the same to your knowledge, miss, I should think,” + retorted Jerry, “whether they drink your health or the Old Un's.” + +“Who's he?” said Miss Pross. + +Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained himself as meaning “Old +Nick's.” + +“Ha!” said Miss Pross, “it doesn't need an interpreter to explain the +meaning of these creatures. They have but one, and it's Midnight Murder, +and Mischief.” + +“Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!” cried Lucie. + +“Yes, yes, yes, I'll be cautious,” said Miss Pross; “but I may say +among ourselves, that I do hope there will be no oniony and tobaccoey +smotherings in the form of embracings all round, going on in the +streets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir from that fire till I come back! +Take care of the dear husband you have recovered, and don't move your +pretty head from his shoulder as you have it now, till you see me again! +May I ask a question, Doctor Manette, before I go?” + +“I think you may take that liberty,” the Doctor answered, smiling. + +“For gracious sake, don't talk about Liberty; we have quite enough of +that,” said Miss Pross. + +“Hush, dear! Again?” Lucie remonstrated. + +“Well, my sweet,” said Miss Pross, nodding her head emphatically, “the +short and the long of it is, that I am a subject of His Most Gracious +Majesty King George the Third;” Miss Pross curtseyed at the name; “and +as such, my maxim is, Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish +tricks, On him our hopes we fix, God save the King!” + +Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loyalty, growlingly repeated the words +after Miss Pross, like somebody at church. + +“I am glad you have so much of the Englishman in you, though I wish you +had never taken that cold in your voice,” said Miss Pross, approvingly. +“But the question, Doctor Manette. Is there”--it was the good creature's +way to affect to make light of anything that was a great anxiety +with them all, and to come at it in this chance manner--“is there any +prospect yet, of our getting out of this place?” + +“I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for Charles yet.” + +“Heigh-ho-hum!” said Miss Pross, cheerfully repressing a sigh as she +glanced at her darling's golden hair in the light of the fire, “then we +must have patience and wait: that's all. We must hold up our heads and +fight low, as my brother Solomon used to say. Now, Mr. Cruncher!--Don't +you move, Ladybird!” + +They went out, leaving Lucie, and her husband, her father, and the +child, by a bright fire. Mr. Lorry was expected back presently from the +Banking House. Miss Pross had lighted the lamp, but had put it aside in +a corner, that they might enjoy the fire-light undisturbed. Little Lucie +sat by her grandfather with her hands clasped through his arm: and he, +in a tone not rising much above a whisper, began to tell her a story of +a great and powerful Fairy who had opened a prison-wall and let out +a captive who had once done the Fairy a service. All was subdued and +quiet, and Lucie was more at ease than she had been. + +“What is that?” she cried, all at once. + +“My dear!” said her father, stopping in his story, and laying his hand +on hers, “command yourself. What a disordered state you are in! The +least thing--nothing--startles you! _You_, your father's daughter!” + +“I thought, my father,” said Lucie, excusing herself, with a pale face +and in a faltering voice, “that I heard strange feet upon the stairs.” + +“My love, the staircase is as still as Death.” + +As he said the word, a blow was struck upon the door. + +“Oh father, father. What can this be! Hide Charles. Save him!” + +“My child,” said the Doctor, rising, and laying his hand upon her +shoulder, “I _have_ saved him. What weakness is this, my dear! Let me go +to the door.” + +He took the lamp in his hand, crossed the two intervening outer rooms, +and opened it. A rude clattering of feet over the floor, and four rough +men in red caps, armed with sabres and pistols, entered the room. + +“The Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay,” said the first. + +“Who seeks him?” answered Darnay. + +“I seek him. We seek him. I know you, Evremonde; I saw you before the +Tribunal to-day. You are again the prisoner of the Republic.” + +The four surrounded him, where he stood with his wife and child clinging +to him. + +“Tell me how and why am I again a prisoner?” + +“It is enough that you return straight to the Conciergerie, and will +know to-morrow. You are summoned for to-morrow.” + +Doctor Manette, whom this visitation had so turned into stone, that he +stood with the lamp in his hand, as if he were a statue made to hold it, +moved after these words were spoken, put the lamp down, and confronting +the speaker, and taking him, not ungently, by the loose front of his red +woollen shirt, said: + +“You know him, you have said. Do you know me?” + +“Yes, I know you, Citizen Doctor.” + +“We all know you, Citizen Doctor,” said the other three. + +He looked abstractedly from one to another, and said, in a lower voice, +after a pause: + +“Will you answer his question to me then? How does this happen?” + +“Citizen Doctor,” said the first, reluctantly, “he has been denounced to +the Section of Saint Antoine. This citizen,” pointing out the second who +had entered, “is from Saint Antoine.” + +The citizen here indicated nodded his head, and added: + +“He is accused by Saint Antoine.” + +“Of what?” asked the Doctor. + +“Citizen Doctor,” said the first, with his former reluctance, “ask no +more. If the Republic demands sacrifices from you, without doubt you as +a good patriot will be happy to make them. The Republic goes before all. +The People is supreme. Evremonde, we are pressed.” + +“One word,” the Doctor entreated. “Will you tell me who denounced him?” + +“It is against rule,” answered the first; “but you can ask Him of Saint +Antoine here.” + +The Doctor turned his eyes upon that man. Who moved uneasily on his +feet, rubbed his beard a little, and at length said: + +“Well! Truly it is against rule. But he is denounced--and gravely--by +the Citizen and Citizeness Defarge. And by one other.” + +“What other?” + +“Do _you_ ask, Citizen Doctor?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then,” said he of Saint Antoine, with a strange look, “you will be +answered to-morrow. Now, I am dumb!” + + + + +VIII. A Hand at Cards + + +Happily unconscious of the new calamity at home, Miss Pross threaded her +way along the narrow streets and crossed the river by the bridge of the +Pont-Neuf, reckoning in her mind the number of indispensable purchases +she had to make. Mr. Cruncher, with the basket, walked at her side. They +both looked to the right and to the left into most of the shops they +passed, had a wary eye for all gregarious assemblages of people, and +turned out of their road to avoid any very excited group of talkers. It +was a raw evening, and the misty river, blurred to the eye with blazing +lights and to the ear with harsh noises, showed where the barges were +stationed in which the smiths worked, making guns for the Army of the +Republic. Woe to the man who played tricks with _that_ Army, or got +undeserved promotion in it! Better for him that his beard had never +grown, for the National Razor shaved him close. + +Having purchased a few small articles of grocery, and a measure of oil +for the lamp, Miss Pross bethought herself of the wine they wanted. +After peeping into several wine-shops, she stopped at the sign of the +Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, not far from the National Palace, +once (and twice) the Tuileries, where the aspect of things rather +took her fancy. It had a quieter look than any other place of the same +description they had passed, and, though red with patriotic caps, was +not so red as the rest. Sounding Mr. Cruncher, and finding him of her +opinion, Miss Pross resorted to the Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, +attended by her cavalier. + +Slightly observant of the smoky lights; of the people, pipe in mouth, +playing with limp cards and yellow dominoes; of the one bare-breasted, +bare-armed, soot-begrimed workman reading a journal aloud, and of +the others listening to him; of the weapons worn, or laid aside to be +resumed; of the two or three customers fallen forward asleep, who in the +popular high-shouldered shaggy black spencer looked, in that attitude, +like slumbering bears or dogs; the two outlandish customers approached +the counter, and showed what they wanted. + +As their wine was measuring out, a man parted from another man in a +corner, and rose to depart. In going, he had to face Miss Pross. No +sooner did he face her, than Miss Pross uttered a scream, and clapped +her hands. + +In a moment, the whole company were on their feet. That somebody was +assassinated by somebody vindicating a difference of opinion was the +likeliest occurrence. Everybody looked to see somebody fall, but only +saw a man and a woman standing staring at each other; the man with all +the outward aspect of a Frenchman and a thorough Republican; the woman, +evidently English. + +What was said in this disappointing anti-climax, by the disciples of the +Good Republican Brutus of Antiquity, except that it was something very +voluble and loud, would have been as so much Hebrew or Chaldean to Miss +Pross and her protector, though they had been all ears. But, they had no +ears for anything in their surprise. For, it must be recorded, that +not only was Miss Pross lost in amazement and agitation, but, +Mr. Cruncher--though it seemed on his own separate and individual +account--was in a state of the greatest wonder. + +“What is the matter?” said the man who had caused Miss Pross to scream; +speaking in a vexed, abrupt voice (though in a low tone), and in +English. + +“Oh, Solomon, dear Solomon!” cried Miss Pross, clapping her hands again. +“After not setting eyes upon you or hearing of you for so long a time, +do I find you here!” + +“Don't call me Solomon. Do you want to be the death of me?” asked the +man, in a furtive, frightened way. + +“Brother, brother!” cried Miss Pross, bursting into tears. “Have I ever +been so hard with you that you ask me such a cruel question?” + +“Then hold your meddlesome tongue,” said Solomon, “and come out, if you +want to speak to me. Pay for your wine, and come out. Who's this man?” + +Miss Pross, shaking her loving and dejected head at her by no means +affectionate brother, said through her tears, “Mr. Cruncher.” + +“Let him come out too,” said Solomon. “Does he think me a ghost?” + +Apparently, Mr. Cruncher did, to judge from his looks. He said not a +word, however, and Miss Pross, exploring the depths of her reticule +through her tears with great difficulty paid for her wine. As she did +so, Solomon turned to the followers of the Good Republican Brutus +of Antiquity, and offered a few words of explanation in the French +language, which caused them all to relapse into their former places and +pursuits. + +“Now,” said Solomon, stopping at the dark street corner, “what do you +want?” + +“How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever turned my love away +from!” cried Miss Pross, “to give me such a greeting, and show me no +affection.” + +“There. Confound it! There,” said Solomon, making a dab at Miss Pross's +lips with his own. “Now are you content?” + +Miss Pross only shook her head and wept in silence. + +“If you expect me to be surprised,” said her brother Solomon, “I am not +surprised; I knew you were here; I know of most people who are here. If +you really don't want to endanger my existence--which I half believe you +do--go your ways as soon as possible, and let me go mine. I am busy. I +am an official.” + +“My English brother Solomon,” mourned Miss Pross, casting up her +tear-fraught eyes, “that had the makings in him of one of the best and +greatest of men in his native country, an official among foreigners, and +such foreigners! I would almost sooner have seen the dear boy lying in +his--” + +“I said so!” cried her brother, interrupting. “I knew it. You want to be +the death of me. I shall be rendered Suspected, by my own sister. Just +as I am getting on!” + +“The gracious and merciful Heavens forbid!” cried Miss Pross. “Far +rather would I never see you again, dear Solomon, though I have ever +loved you truly, and ever shall. Say but one affectionate word to me, +and tell me there is nothing angry or estranged between us, and I will +detain you no longer.” + +Good Miss Pross! As if the estrangement between them had come of any +culpability of hers. As if Mr. Lorry had not known it for a fact, years +ago, in the quiet corner in Soho, that this precious brother had spent +her money and left her! + +He was saying the affectionate word, however, with a far more grudging +condescension and patronage than he could have shown if their relative +merits and positions had been reversed (which is invariably the case, +all the world over), when Mr. Cruncher, touching him on the shoulder, +hoarsely and unexpectedly interposed with the following singular +question: + +“I say! Might I ask the favour? As to whether your name is John Solomon, +or Solomon John?” + +The official turned towards him with sudden distrust. He had not +previously uttered a word. + +“Come!” said Mr. Cruncher. “Speak out, you know.” (Which, by the way, +was more than he could do himself.) “John Solomon, or Solomon John? She +calls you Solomon, and she must know, being your sister. And _I_ know +you're John, you know. Which of the two goes first? And regarding that +name of Pross, likewise. That warn't your name over the water.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Well, I don't know all I mean, for I can't call to mind what your name +was, over the water.” + +“No?” + +“No. But I'll swear it was a name of two syllables.” + +“Indeed?” + +“Yes. T'other one's was one syllable. I know you. You was a spy--witness +at the Bailey. What, in the name of the Father of Lies, own father to +yourself, was you called at that time?” + +“Barsad,” said another voice, striking in. + +“That's the name for a thousand pound!” cried Jerry. + +The speaker who struck in, was Sydney Carton. He had his hands behind +him under the skirts of his riding-coat, and he stood at Mr. Cruncher's +elbow as negligently as he might have stood at the Old Bailey itself. + +“Don't be alarmed, my dear Miss Pross. I arrived at Mr. Lorry's, to his +surprise, yesterday evening; we agreed that I would not present myself +elsewhere until all was well, or unless I could be useful; I present +myself here, to beg a little talk with your brother. I wish you had a +better employed brother than Mr. Barsad. I wish for your sake Mr. Barsad +was not a Sheep of the Prisons.” + +Sheep was a cant word of the time for a spy, under the gaolers. The spy, +who was pale, turned paler, and asked him how he dared-- + +“I'll tell you,” said Sydney. “I lighted on you, Mr. Barsad, coming out +of the prison of the Conciergerie while I was contemplating the walls, +an hour or more ago. You have a face to be remembered, and I remember +faces well. Made curious by seeing you in that connection, and having +a reason, to which you are no stranger, for associating you with +the misfortunes of a friend now very unfortunate, I walked in your +direction. I walked into the wine-shop here, close after you, and +sat near you. I had no difficulty in deducing from your unreserved +conversation, and the rumour openly going about among your admirers, the +nature of your calling. And gradually, what I had done at random, seemed +to shape itself into a purpose, Mr. Barsad.” + +“What purpose?” the spy asked. + +“It would be troublesome, and might be dangerous, to explain in the +street. Could you favour me, in confidence, with some minutes of your +company--at the office of Tellson's Bank, for instance?” + +“Under a threat?” + +“Oh! Did I say that?” + +“Then, why should I go there?” + +“Really, Mr. Barsad, I can't say, if you can't.” + +“Do you mean that you won't say, sir?” the spy irresolutely asked. + +“You apprehend me very clearly, Mr. Barsad. I won't.” + +Carton's negligent recklessness of manner came powerfully in aid of his +quickness and skill, in such a business as he had in his secret mind, +and with such a man as he had to do with. His practised eye saw it, and +made the most of it. + +“Now, I told you so,” said the spy, casting a reproachful look at his +sister; “if any trouble comes of this, it's your doing.” + +“Come, come, Mr. Barsad!” exclaimed Sydney. “Don't be ungrateful. +But for my great respect for your sister, I might not have led up so +pleasantly to a little proposal that I wish to make for our mutual +satisfaction. Do you go with me to the Bank?” + +“I'll hear what you have got to say. Yes, I'll go with you.” + +“I propose that we first conduct your sister safely to the corner of her +own street. Let me take your arm, Miss Pross. This is not a good city, +at this time, for you to be out in, unprotected; and as your escort +knows Mr. Barsad, I will invite him to Mr. Lorry's with us. Are we +ready? Come then!” + +Miss Pross recalled soon afterwards, and to the end of her life +remembered, that as she pressed her hands on Sydney's arm and looked up +in his face, imploring him to do no hurt to Solomon, there was a braced +purpose in the arm and a kind of inspiration in the eyes, which not only +contradicted his light manner, but changed and raised the man. She was +too much occupied then with fears for the brother who so little deserved +her affection, and with Sydney's friendly reassurances, adequately to +heed what she observed. + +They left her at the corner of the street, and Carton led the way to Mr. +Lorry's, which was within a few minutes' walk. John Barsad, or Solomon +Pross, walked at his side. + +Mr. Lorry had just finished his dinner, and was sitting before a cheery +little log or two of fire--perhaps looking into their blaze for the +picture of that younger elderly gentleman from Tellson's, who had looked +into the red coals at the Royal George at Dover, now a good many years +ago. He turned his head as they entered, and showed the surprise with +which he saw a stranger. + +“Miss Pross's brother, sir,” said Sydney. “Mr. Barsad.” + +“Barsad?” repeated the old gentleman, “Barsad? I have an association +with the name--and with the face.” + +“I told you you had a remarkable face, Mr. Barsad,” observed Carton, +coolly. “Pray sit down.” + +As he took a chair himself, he supplied the link that Mr. Lorry wanted, +by saying to him with a frown, “Witness at that trial.” Mr. Lorry +immediately remembered, and regarded his new visitor with an undisguised +look of abhorrence. + +“Mr. Barsad has been recognised by Miss Pross as the affectionate +brother you have heard of,” said Sydney, “and has acknowledged the +relationship. I pass to worse news. Darnay has been arrested again.” + +Struck with consternation, the old gentleman exclaimed, “What do you +tell me! I left him safe and free within these two hours, and am about +to return to him!” + +“Arrested for all that. When was it done, Mr. Barsad?” + +“Just now, if at all.” + +“Mr. Barsad is the best authority possible, sir,” said Sydney, “and I +have it from Mr. Barsad's communication to a friend and brother Sheep +over a bottle of wine, that the arrest has taken place. He left the +messengers at the gate, and saw them admitted by the porter. There is no +earthly doubt that he is retaken.” + +Mr. Lorry's business eye read in the speaker's face that it was loss +of time to dwell upon the point. Confused, but sensible that something +might depend on his presence of mind, he commanded himself, and was +silently attentive. + +“Now, I trust,” said Sydney to him, “that the name and influence of +Doctor Manette may stand him in as good stead to-morrow--you said he +would be before the Tribunal again to-morrow, Mr. Barsad?--” + +“Yes; I believe so.” + +“--In as good stead to-morrow as to-day. But it may not be so. I own +to you, I am shaken, Mr. Lorry, by Doctor Manette's not having had the +power to prevent this arrest.” + +“He may not have known of it beforehand,” said Mr. Lorry. + +“But that very circumstance would be alarming, when we remember how +identified he is with his son-in-law.” + +“That's true,” Mr. Lorry acknowledged, with his troubled hand at his +chin, and his troubled eyes on Carton. + +“In short,” said Sydney, “this is a desperate time, when desperate games +are played for desperate stakes. Let the Doctor play the winning game; I +will play the losing one. No man's life here is worth purchase. Any one +carried home by the people to-day, may be condemned tomorrow. Now, the +stake I have resolved to play for, in case of the worst, is a friend +in the Conciergerie. And the friend I purpose to myself to win, is Mr. +Barsad.” + +“You need have good cards, sir,” said the spy. + +“I'll run them over. I'll see what I hold,--Mr. Lorry, you know what a +brute I am; I wish you'd give me a little brandy.” + +It was put before him, and he drank off a glassful--drank off another +glassful--pushed the bottle thoughtfully away. + +“Mr. Barsad,” he went on, in the tone of one who really was looking +over a hand at cards: “Sheep of the prisons, emissary of Republican +committees, now turnkey, now prisoner, always spy and secret informer, +so much the more valuable here for being English that an Englishman +is less open to suspicion of subornation in those characters than a +Frenchman, represents himself to his employers under a false name. +That's a very good card. Mr. Barsad, now in the employ of the republican +French government, was formerly in the employ of the aristocratic +English government, the enemy of France and freedom. That's an excellent +card. Inference clear as day in this region of suspicion, that Mr. +Barsad, still in the pay of the aristocratic English government, is the +spy of Pitt, the treacherous foe of the Republic crouching in its bosom, +the English traitor and agent of all mischief so much spoken of and so +difficult to find. That's a card not to be beaten. Have you followed my +hand, Mr. Barsad?” + +“Not to understand your play,” returned the spy, somewhat uneasily. + +“I play my Ace, Denunciation of Mr. Barsad to the nearest Section +Committee. Look over your hand, Mr. Barsad, and see what you have. Don't +hurry.” + +He drew the bottle near, poured out another glassful of brandy, and +drank it off. He saw that the spy was fearful of his drinking himself +into a fit state for the immediate denunciation of him. Seeing it, he +poured out and drank another glassful. + +“Look over your hand carefully, Mr. Barsad. Take time.” + +It was a poorer hand than he suspected. Mr. Barsad saw losing cards +in it that Sydney Carton knew nothing of. Thrown out of his honourable +employment in England, through too much unsuccessful hard swearing +there--not because he was not wanted there; our English reasons for +vaunting our superiority to secrecy and spies are of very modern +date--he knew that he had crossed the Channel, and accepted service in +France: first, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among his own countrymen +there: gradually, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among the natives. He +knew that under the overthrown government he had been a spy upon Saint +Antoine and Defarge's wine-shop; had received from the watchful police +such heads of information concerning Doctor Manette's imprisonment, +release, and history, as should serve him for an introduction to +familiar conversation with the Defarges; and tried them on Madame +Defarge, and had broken down with them signally. He always remembered +with fear and trembling, that that terrible woman had knitted when he +talked with her, and had looked ominously at him as her fingers moved. +He had since seen her, in the Section of Saint Antoine, over and over +again produce her knitted registers, and denounce people whose lives the +guillotine then surely swallowed up. He knew, as every one employed as +he was did, that he was never safe; that flight was impossible; that +he was tied fast under the shadow of the axe; and that in spite of +his utmost tergiversation and treachery in furtherance of the reigning +terror, a word might bring it down upon him. Once denounced, and on such +grave grounds as had just now been suggested to his mind, he foresaw +that the dreadful woman of whose unrelenting character he had seen many +proofs, would produce against him that fatal register, and would quash +his last chance of life. Besides that all secret men are men soon +terrified, here were surely cards enough of one black suit, to justify +the holder in growing rather livid as he turned them over. + +“You scarcely seem to like your hand,” said Sydney, with the greatest +composure. “Do you play?” + +“I think, sir,” said the spy, in the meanest manner, as he turned to Mr. +Lorry, “I may appeal to a gentleman of your years and benevolence, to +put it to this other gentleman, so much your junior, whether he can +under any circumstances reconcile it to his station to play that Ace +of which he has spoken. I admit that _I_ am a spy, and that it is +considered a discreditable station--though it must be filled by +somebody; but this gentleman is no spy, and why should he so demean +himself as to make himself one?” + +“I play my Ace, Mr. Barsad,” said Carton, taking the answer on himself, +and looking at his watch, “without any scruple, in a very few minutes.” + +“I should have hoped, gentlemen both,” said the spy, always striving to +hook Mr. Lorry into the discussion, “that your respect for my sister--” + +“I could not better testify my respect for your sister than by finally +relieving her of her brother,” said Sydney Carton. + +“You think not, sir?” + +“I have thoroughly made up my mind about it.” + +The smooth manner of the spy, curiously in dissonance with his +ostentatiously rough dress, and probably with his usual demeanour, +received such a check from the inscrutability of Carton,--who was a +mystery to wiser and honester men than he,--that it faltered here and +failed him. While he was at a loss, Carton said, resuming his former air +of contemplating cards: + +“And indeed, now I think again, I have a strong impression that I +have another good card here, not yet enumerated. That friend and +fellow-Sheep, who spoke of himself as pasturing in the country prisons; +who was he?” + +“French. You don't know him,” said the spy, quickly. + +“French, eh?” repeated Carton, musing, and not appearing to notice him +at all, though he echoed his word. “Well; he may be.” + +“Is, I assure you,” said the spy; “though it's not important.” + +“Though it's not important,” repeated Carton, in the same mechanical +way--“though it's not important--No, it's not important. No. Yet I know +the face.” + +“I think not. I am sure not. It can't be,” said the spy. + +“It-can't-be,” muttered Sydney Carton, retrospectively, and idling his +glass (which fortunately was a small one) again. “Can't-be. Spoke good +French. Yet like a foreigner, I thought?” + +“Provincial,” said the spy. + +“No. Foreign!” cried Carton, striking his open hand on the table, as a +light broke clearly on his mind. “Cly! Disguised, but the same man. We +had that man before us at the Old Bailey.” + +“Now, there you are hasty, sir,” said Barsad, with a smile that gave his +aquiline nose an extra inclination to one side; “there you really give +me an advantage over you. Cly (who I will unreservedly admit, at this +distance of time, was a partner of mine) has been dead several years. I +attended him in his last illness. He was buried in London, at the church +of Saint Pancras-in-the-Fields. His unpopularity with the blackguard +multitude at the moment prevented my following his remains, but I helped +to lay him in his coffin.” + +Here, Mr. Lorry became aware, from where he sat, of a most remarkable +goblin shadow on the wall. Tracing it to its source, he discovered it +to be caused by a sudden extraordinary rising and stiffening of all the +risen and stiff hair on Mr. Cruncher's head. + +“Let us be reasonable,” said the spy, “and let us be fair. To show you +how mistaken you are, and what an unfounded assumption yours is, I will +lay before you a certificate of Cly's burial, which I happened to have +carried in my pocket-book,” with a hurried hand he produced and opened +it, “ever since. There it is. Oh, look at it, look at it! You may take +it in your hand; it's no forgery.” + +Here, Mr. Lorry perceived the reflection on the wall to elongate, and +Mr. Cruncher rose and stepped forward. His hair could not have been more +violently on end, if it had been that moment dressed by the Cow with the +crumpled horn in the house that Jack built. + +Unseen by the spy, Mr. Cruncher stood at his side, and touched him on +the shoulder like a ghostly bailiff. + +“That there Roger Cly, master,” said Mr. Cruncher, with a taciturn and +iron-bound visage. “So _you_ put him in his coffin?” + +“I did.” + +“Who took him out of it?” + +Barsad leaned back in his chair, and stammered, “What do you mean?” + +“I mean,” said Mr. Cruncher, “that he warn't never in it. No! Not he! +I'll have my head took off, if he was ever in it.” + +The spy looked round at the two gentlemen; they both looked in +unspeakable astonishment at Jerry. + +“I tell you,” said Jerry, “that you buried paving-stones and earth in +that there coffin. Don't go and tell me that you buried Cly. It was a +take in. Me and two more knows it.” + +“How do you know it?” + +“What's that to you? Ecod!” growled Mr. Cruncher, “it's you I have got a +old grudge again, is it, with your shameful impositions upon tradesmen! +I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a guinea.” + +Sydney Carton, who, with Mr. Lorry, had been lost in amazement at +this turn of the business, here requested Mr. Cruncher to moderate and +explain himself. + +“At another time, sir,” he returned, evasively, “the present time is +ill-conwenient for explainin'. What I stand to, is, that he knows well +wot that there Cly was never in that there coffin. Let him say he was, +in so much as a word of one syllable, and I'll either catch hold of his +throat and choke him for half a guinea;” Mr. Cruncher dwelt upon this as +quite a liberal offer; “or I'll out and announce him.” + +“Humph! I see one thing,” said Carton. “I hold another card, Mr. Barsad. +Impossible, here in raging Paris, with Suspicion filling the air, for +you to outlive denunciation, when you are in communication with another +aristocratic spy of the same antecedents as yourself, who, moreover, has +the mystery about him of having feigned death and come to life again! +A plot in the prisons, of the foreigner against the Republic. A strong +card--a certain Guillotine card! Do you play?” + +“No!” returned the spy. “I throw up. I confess that we were so unpopular +with the outrageous mob, that I only got away from England at the risk +of being ducked to death, and that Cly was so ferreted up and down, that +he never would have got away at all but for that sham. Though how this +man knows it was a sham, is a wonder of wonders to me.” + +“Never you trouble your head about this man,” retorted the contentious +Mr. Cruncher; “you'll have trouble enough with giving your attention to +that gentleman. And look here! Once more!”--Mr. Cruncher could not +be restrained from making rather an ostentatious parade of his +liberality--“I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a +guinea.” + +The Sheep of the prisons turned from him to Sydney Carton, and said, +with more decision, “It has come to a point. I go on duty soon, and +can't overstay my time. You told me you had a proposal; what is it? +Now, it is of no use asking too much of me. Ask me to do anything in my +office, putting my head in great extra danger, and I had better trust my +life to the chances of a refusal than the chances of consent. In short, +I should make that choice. You talk of desperation. We are all desperate +here. Remember! I may denounce you if I think proper, and I can swear my +way through stone walls, and so can others. Now, what do you want with +me?” + +“Not very much. You are a turnkey at the Conciergerie?” + +“I tell you once for all, there is no such thing as an escape possible,” + said the spy, firmly. + +“Why need you tell me what I have not asked? You are a turnkey at the +Conciergerie?” + +“I am sometimes.” + +“You can be when you choose?” + +“I can pass in and out when I choose.” + +Sydney Carton filled another glass with brandy, poured it slowly out +upon the hearth, and watched it as it dropped. It being all spent, he +said, rising: + +“So far, we have spoken before these two, because it was as well that +the merits of the cards should not rest solely between you and me. Come +into the dark room here, and let us have one final word alone.” + + + + +IX. The Game Made + + +While Sydney Carton and the Sheep of the prisons were in the adjoining +dark room, speaking so low that not a sound was heard, Mr. Lorry looked +at Jerry in considerable doubt and mistrust. That honest tradesman's +manner of receiving the look, did not inspire confidence; he changed the +leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of those limbs, +and were trying them all; he examined his finger-nails with a very +questionable closeness of attention; and whenever Mr. Lorry's eye caught +his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the +hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an +infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character. + +“Jerry,” said Mr. Lorry. “Come here.” + +Mr. Cruncher came forward sideways, with one of his shoulders in advance +of him. + +“What have you been, besides a messenger?” + +After some cogitation, accompanied with an intent look at his patron, +Mr. Cruncher conceived the luminous idea of replying, “Agicultooral +character.” + +“My mind misgives me much,” said Mr. Lorry, angrily shaking a forefinger +at him, “that you have used the respectable and great house of Tellson's +as a blind, and that you have had an unlawful occupation of an infamous +description. If you have, don't expect me to befriend you when you +get back to England. If you have, don't expect me to keep your secret. +Tellson's shall not be imposed upon.” + +“I hope, sir,” pleaded the abashed Mr. Cruncher, “that a gentleman like +yourself wot I've had the honour of odd jobbing till I'm grey at it, +would think twice about harming of me, even if it wos so--I don't say it +is, but even if it wos. And which it is to be took into account that if +it wos, it wouldn't, even then, be all o' one side. There'd be two sides +to it. There might be medical doctors at the present hour, a picking +up their guineas where a honest tradesman don't pick up his +fardens--fardens! no, nor yet his half fardens--half fardens! no, nor +yet his quarter--a banking away like smoke at Tellson's, and a cocking +their medical eyes at that tradesman on the sly, a going in and going +out to their own carriages--ah! equally like smoke, if not more so. +Well, that 'ud be imposing, too, on Tellson's. For you cannot sarse the +goose and not the gander. And here's Mrs. Cruncher, or leastways wos +in the Old England times, and would be to-morrow, if cause given, +a floppin' again the business to that degree as is ruinating--stark +ruinating! Whereas them medical doctors' wives don't flop--catch 'em at +it! Or, if they flop, their floppings goes in favour of more patients, +and how can you rightly have one without t'other? Then, wot with +undertakers, and wot with parish clerks, and wot with sextons, and wot +with private watchmen (all awaricious and all in it), a man wouldn't get +much by it, even if it wos so. And wot little a man did get, would never +prosper with him, Mr. Lorry. He'd never have no good of it; he'd want +all along to be out of the line, if he, could see his way out, being +once in--even if it wos so.” + +“Ugh!” cried Mr. Lorry, rather relenting, nevertheless, “I am shocked at +the sight of you.” + +“Now, what I would humbly offer to you, sir,” pursued Mr. Cruncher, +“even if it wos so, which I don't say it is--” + +“Don't prevaricate,” said Mr. Lorry. + +“No, I will _not_, sir,” returned Mr. Crunches as if nothing were +further from his thoughts or practice--“which I don't say it is--wot I +would humbly offer to you, sir, would be this. Upon that there stool, at +that there Bar, sets that there boy of mine, brought up and growed up to +be a man, wot will errand you, message you, general-light-job you, till +your heels is where your head is, if such should be your wishes. If it +wos so, which I still don't say it is (for I will not prewaricate to +you, sir), let that there boy keep his father's place, and take care of +his mother; don't blow upon that boy's father--do not do it, sir--and +let that father go into the line of the reg'lar diggin', and make amends +for what he would have undug--if it wos so--by diggin' of 'em in with +a will, and with conwictions respectin' the futur' keepin' of 'em safe. +That, Mr. Lorry,” said Mr. Cruncher, wiping his forehead with his +arm, as an announcement that he had arrived at the peroration of his +discourse, “is wot I would respectfully offer to you, sir. A man don't +see all this here a goin' on dreadful round him, in the way of Subjects +without heads, dear me, plentiful enough fur to bring the price down +to porterage and hardly that, without havin' his serious thoughts of +things. And these here would be mine, if it wos so, entreatin' of you +fur to bear in mind that wot I said just now, I up and said in the good +cause when I might have kep' it back.” + +“That at least is true,” said Mr. Lorry. “Say no more now. It may be +that I shall yet stand your friend, if you deserve it, and repent in +action--not in words. I want no more words.” + +Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forehead, as Sydney Carton and the spy +returned from the dark room. “Adieu, Mr. Barsad,” said the former; “our +arrangement thus made, you have nothing to fear from me.” + +He sat down in a chair on the hearth, over against Mr. Lorry. When they +were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done? + +“Not much. If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured access +to him, once.” + +Mr. Lorry's countenance fell. + +“It is all I could do,” said Carton. “To propose too much, would be +to put this man's head under the axe, and, as he himself said, nothing +worse could happen to him if he were denounced. It was obviously the +weakness of the position. There is no help for it.” + +“But access to him,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it should go ill before the +Tribunal, will not save him.” + +“I never said it would.” + +Mr. Lorry's eyes gradually sought the fire; his sympathy with his +darling, and the heavy disappointment of his second arrest, gradually +weakened them; he was an old man now, overborne with anxiety of late, +and his tears fell. + +“You are a good man and a true friend,” said Carton, in an altered +voice. “Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could not see my +father weep, and sit by, careless. And I could not respect your +sorrow more, if you were my father. You are free from that misfortune, +however.” + +Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual manner, there +was a true feeling and respect both in his tone and in his touch, +that Mr. Lorry, who had never seen the better side of him, was wholly +unprepared for. He gave him his hand, and Carton gently pressed it. + +“To return to poor Darnay,” said Carton. “Don't tell Her of this +interview, or this arrangement. It would not enable Her to go to see +him. She might think it was contrived, in case of the worse, to convey +to him the means of anticipating the sentence.” + +Mr. Lorry had not thought of that, and he looked quickly at Carton to +see if it were in his mind. It seemed to be; he returned the look, and +evidently understood it. + +“She might think a thousand things,” Carton said, “and any of them would +only add to her trouble. Don't speak of me to her. As I said to you when +I first came, I had better not see her. I can put my hand out, to do any +little helpful work for her that my hand can find to do, without that. +You are going to her, I hope? She must be very desolate to-night.” + +“I am going now, directly.” + +“I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and reliance +on you. How does she look?” + +“Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful.” + +“Ah!” + +It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh--almost like a sob. It +attracted Mr. Lorry's eyes to Carton's face, which was turned to the +fire. A light, or a shade (the old gentleman could not have said which), +passed from it as swiftly as a change will sweep over a hill-side on a +wild bright day, and he lifted his foot to put back one of the little +flaming logs, which was tumbling forward. He wore the white riding-coat +and top-boots, then in vogue, and the light of the fire touching their +light surfaces made him look very pale, with his long brown hair, +all untrimmed, hanging loose about him. His indifference to fire was +sufficiently remarkable to elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; +his boot was still upon the hot embers of the flaming log, when it had +broken under the weight of his foot. + +“I forgot it,” he said. + +Mr. Lorry's eyes were again attracted to his face. Taking note of the +wasted air which clouded the naturally handsome features, and having +the expression of prisoners' faces fresh in his mind, he was strongly +reminded of that expression. + +“And your duties here have drawn to an end, sir?” said Carton, turning +to him. + +“Yes. As I was telling you last night when Lucie came in so +unexpectedly, I have at length done all that I can do here. I hoped to +have left them in perfect safety, and then to have quitted Paris. I have +my Leave to Pass. I was ready to go.” + +They were both silent. + +“Yours is a long life to look back upon, sir?” said Carton, wistfully. + +“I am in my seventy-eighth year.” + +“You have been useful all your life; steadily and constantly occupied; +trusted, respected, and looked up to?” + +“I have been a man of business, ever since I have been a man. Indeed, I +may say that I was a man of business when a boy.” + +“See what a place you fill at seventy-eight. How many people will miss +you when you leave it empty!” + +“A solitary old bachelor,” answered Mr. Lorry, shaking his head. “There +is nobody to weep for me.” + +“How can you say that? Wouldn't She weep for you? Wouldn't her child?” + +“Yes, yes, thank God. I didn't quite mean what I said.” + +“It _is_ a thing to thank God for; is it not?” + +“Surely, surely.” + +“If you could say, with truth, to your own solitary heart, to-night, +'I have secured to myself the love and attachment, the gratitude or +respect, of no human creature; I have won myself a tender place in no +regard; I have done nothing good or serviceable to be remembered by!' +your seventy-eight years would be seventy-eight heavy curses; would they +not?” + +“You say truly, Mr. Carton; I think they would be.” + +Sydney turned his eyes again upon the fire, and, after a silence of a +few moments, said: + +“I should like to ask you:--Does your childhood seem far off? Do the +days when you sat at your mother's knee, seem days of very long ago?” + +Responding to his softened manner, Mr. Lorry answered: + +“Twenty years back, yes; at this time of my life, no. For, as I draw +closer and closer to the end, I travel in the circle, nearer and +nearer to the beginning. It seems to be one of the kind smoothings and +preparings of the way. My heart is touched now, by many remembrances +that had long fallen asleep, of my pretty young mother (and I so old!), +and by many associations of the days when what we call the World was not +so real with me, and my faults were not confirmed in me.” + +“I understand the feeling!” exclaimed Carton, with a bright flush. “And +you are the better for it?” + +“I hope so.” + +Carton terminated the conversation here, by rising to help him on with +his outer coat; “But you,” said Mr. Lorry, reverting to the theme, “you +are young.” + +“Yes,” said Carton. “I am not old, but my young way was never the way to +age. Enough of me.” + +“And of me, I am sure,” said Mr. Lorry. “Are you going out?” + +“I'll walk with you to her gate. You know my vagabond and restless +habits. If I should prowl about the streets a long time, don't be +uneasy; I shall reappear in the morning. You go to the Court to-morrow?” + +“Yes, unhappily.” + +“I shall be there, but only as one of the crowd. My Spy will find a +place for me. Take my arm, sir.” + +Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in the streets. A +few minutes brought them to Mr. Lorry's destination. Carton left him +there; but lingered at a little distance, and turned back to the gate +again when it was shut, and touched it. He had heard of her going to +the prison every day. “She came out here,” he said, looking about him, +“turned this way, must have trod on these stones often. Let me follow in +her steps.” + +It was ten o'clock at night when he stood before the prison of La Force, +where she had stood hundreds of times. A little wood-sawyer, having +closed his shop, was smoking his pipe at his shop-door. + +“Good night, citizen,” said Sydney Carton, pausing in going by; for, the +man eyed him inquisitively. + +“Good night, citizen.” + +“How goes the Republic?” + +“You mean the Guillotine. Not ill. Sixty-three to-day. We shall mount +to a hundred soon. Samson and his men complain sometimes, of being +exhausted. Ha, ha, ha! He is so droll, that Samson. Such a Barber!” + +“Do you often go to see him--” + +“Shave? Always. Every day. What a barber! You have seen him at work?” + +“Never.” + +“Go and see him when he has a good batch. Figure this to yourself, +citizen; he shaved the sixty-three to-day, in less than two pipes! Less +than two pipes. Word of honour!” + +As the grinning little man held out the pipe he was smoking, to explain +how he timed the executioner, Carton was so sensible of a rising desire +to strike the life out of him, that he turned away. + +“But you are not English,” said the wood-sawyer, “though you wear +English dress?” + +“Yes,” said Carton, pausing again, and answering over his shoulder. + +“You speak like a Frenchman.” + +“I am an old student here.” + +“Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good night, Englishman.” + +“Good night, citizen.” + +“But go and see that droll dog,” the little man persisted, calling after +him. “And take a pipe with you!” + +Sydney had not gone far out of sight, when he stopped in the middle of +the street under a glimmering lamp, and wrote with his pencil on a scrap +of paper. Then, traversing with the decided step of one who remembered +the way well, several dark and dirty streets--much dirtier than usual, +for the best public thoroughfares remained uncleansed in those times of +terror--he stopped at a chemist's shop, which the owner was closing with +his own hands. A small, dim, crooked shop, kept in a tortuous, up-hill +thoroughfare, by a small, dim, crooked man. + +Giving this citizen, too, good night, as he confronted him at his +counter, he laid the scrap of paper before him. “Whew!” the chemist +whistled softly, as he read it. “Hi! hi! hi!” + +Sydney Carton took no heed, and the chemist said: + +“For you, citizen?” + +“For me.” + +“You will be careful to keep them separate, citizen? You know the +consequences of mixing them?” + +“Perfectly.” + +Certain small packets were made and given to him. He put them, one by +one, in the breast of his inner coat, counted out the money for them, +and deliberately left the shop. “There is nothing more to do,” said he, +glancing upward at the moon, “until to-morrow. I can't sleep.” + +It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words +aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of +negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who +had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into +his road and saw its end. + +Long ago, when he had been famous among his earliest competitors as a +youth of great promise, he had followed his father to the grave. His +mother had died, years before. These solemn words, which had been +read at his father's grave, arose in his mind as he went down the dark +streets, among the heavy shadows, with the moon and the clouds sailing +on high above him. “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: +he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and +whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.” + +In a city dominated by the axe, alone at night, with natural sorrow +rising in him for the sixty-three who had been that day put to death, +and for to-morrow's victims then awaiting their doom in the prisons, +and still of to-morrow's and to-morrow's, the chain of association that +brought the words home, like a rusty old ship's anchor from the deep, +might have been easily found. He did not seek it, but repeated them and +went on. + +With a solemn interest in the lighted windows where the people were +going to rest, forgetful through a few calm hours of the horrors +surrounding them; in the towers of the churches, where no prayers +were said, for the popular revulsion had even travelled that length +of self-destruction from years of priestly impostors, plunderers, and +profligates; in the distant burial-places, reserved, as they wrote upon +the gates, for Eternal Sleep; in the abounding gaols; and in the streets +along which the sixties rolled to a death which had become so common and +material, that no sorrowful story of a haunting Spirit ever arose among +the people out of all the working of the Guillotine; with a solemn +interest in the whole life and death of the city settling down to its +short nightly pause in fury; Sydney Carton crossed the Seine again for +the lighter streets. + +Few coaches were abroad, for riders in coaches were liable to be +suspected, and gentility hid its head in red nightcaps, and put on heavy +shoes, and trudged. But, the theatres were all well filled, and the +people poured cheerfully out as he passed, and went chatting home. At +one of the theatre doors, there was a little girl with a mother, looking +for a way across the street through the mud. He carried the child over, +and before the timid arm was loosed from his neck asked her for a kiss. + +“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth +in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and +believeth in me, shall never die.” + +Now, that the streets were quiet, and the night wore on, the words +were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm +and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he +heard them always. + +The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the +water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the +picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light +of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the +sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, +and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to +Death's dominion. + +But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden +of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. +And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light +appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river +sparkled under it. + +The strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial +friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from the +houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the +bank. When he awoke and was afoot again, he lingered there yet a little +longer, watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the +stream absorbed it, and carried it on to the sea.--“Like me.” + +A trading-boat, with a sail of the softened colour of a dead leaf, then +glided into his view, floated by him, and died away. As its silent track +in the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken up out of his heart +for a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, +ended in the words, “I am the resurrection and the life.” + +Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back, and it was easy to surmise +where the good old man was gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing but a +little coffee, ate some bread, and, having washed and changed to refresh +himself, went out to the place of trial. + +The court was all astir and a-buzz, when the black sheep--whom many fell +away from in dread--pressed him into an obscure corner among the crowd. +Mr. Lorry was there, and Doctor Manette was there. She was there, +sitting beside her father. + +When her husband was brought in, she turned a look upon him, so +sustaining, so encouraging, so full of admiring love and pitying +tenderness, yet so courageous for his sake, that it called the healthy +blood into his face, brightened his glance, and animated his heart. If +there had been any eyes to notice the influence of her look, on Sydney +Carton, it would have been seen to be the same influence exactly. + +Before that unjust Tribunal, there was little or no order of procedure, +ensuring to any accused person any reasonable hearing. There could have +been no such Revolution, if all laws, forms, and ceremonies, had not +first been so monstrously abused, that the suicidal vengeance of the +Revolution was to scatter them all to the winds. + +Every eye was turned to the jury. The same determined patriots and good +republicans as yesterday and the day before, and to-morrow and the day +after. Eager and prominent among them, one man with a craving face, and +his fingers perpetually hovering about his lips, whose appearance +gave great satisfaction to the spectators. A life-thirsting, +cannibal-looking, bloody-minded juryman, the Jacques Three of St. +Antoine. The whole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try the deer. + +Every eye then turned to the five judges and the public prosecutor. +No favourable leaning in that quarter to-day. A fell, uncompromising, +murderous business-meaning there. Every eye then sought some other eye +in the crowd, and gleamed at it approvingly; and heads nodded at one +another, before bending forward with a strained attention. + +Charles Evremonde, called Darnay. Released yesterday. Reaccused and +retaken yesterday. Indictment delivered to him last night. Suspected and +Denounced enemy of the Republic, Aristocrat, one of a family of tyrants, +one of a race proscribed, for that they had used their abolished +privileges to the infamous oppression of the people. Charles Evremonde, +called Darnay, in right of such proscription, absolutely Dead in Law. + +To this effect, in as few or fewer words, the Public Prosecutor. + +The President asked, was the Accused openly denounced or secretly? + +“Openly, President.” + +“By whom?” + +“Three voices. Ernest Defarge, wine-vendor of St. Antoine.” + +“Good.” + +“Therese Defarge, his wife.” + +“Good.” + +“Alexandre Manette, physician.” + +A great uproar took place in the court, and in the midst of it, Doctor +Manette was seen, pale and trembling, standing where he had been seated. + +“President, I indignantly protest to you that this is a forgery and +a fraud. You know the accused to be the husband of my daughter. My +daughter, and those dear to her, are far dearer to me than my life. Who +and where is the false conspirator who says that I denounce the husband +of my child!” + +“Citizen Manette, be tranquil. To fail in submission to the authority of +the Tribunal would be to put yourself out of Law. As to what is dearer +to you than life, nothing can be so dear to a good citizen as the +Republic.” + +Loud acclamations hailed this rebuke. The President rang his bell, and +with warmth resumed. + +“If the Republic should demand of you the sacrifice of your child +herself, you would have no duty but to sacrifice her. Listen to what is +to follow. In the meanwhile, be silent!” + +Frantic acclamations were again raised. Doctor Manette sat down, with +his eyes looking around, and his lips trembling; his daughter drew +closer to him. The craving man on the jury rubbed his hands together, +and restored the usual hand to his mouth. + +Defarge was produced, when the court was quiet enough to admit of his +being heard, and rapidly expounded the story of the imprisonment, and of +his having been a mere boy in the Doctor's service, and of the release, +and of the state of the prisoner when released and delivered to him. +This short examination followed, for the court was quick with its work. + +“You did good service at the taking of the Bastille, citizen?” + +“I believe so.” + +Here, an excited woman screeched from the crowd: “You were one of the +best patriots there. Why not say so? You were a cannonier that day +there, and you were among the first to enter the accursed fortress when +it fell. Patriots, I speak the truth!” + +It was The Vengeance who, amidst the warm commendations of the audience, +thus assisted the proceedings. The President rang his bell; but, The +Vengeance, warming with encouragement, shrieked, “I defy that bell!” + wherein she was likewise much commended. + +“Inform the Tribunal of what you did that day within the Bastille, +citizen.” + +“I knew,” said Defarge, looking down at his wife, who stood at the +bottom of the steps on which he was raised, looking steadily up at him; +“I knew that this prisoner, of whom I speak, had been confined in a cell +known as One Hundred and Five, North Tower. I knew it from himself. He +knew himself by no other name than One Hundred and Five, North Tower, +when he made shoes under my care. As I serve my gun that day, I resolve, +when the place shall fall, to examine that cell. It falls. I mount to +the cell, with a fellow-citizen who is one of the Jury, directed by a +gaoler. I examine it, very closely. In a hole in the chimney, where a +stone has been worked out and replaced, I find a written paper. This is +that written paper. I have made it my business to examine some specimens +of the writing of Doctor Manette. This is the writing of Doctor Manette. +I confide this paper, in the writing of Doctor Manette, to the hands of +the President.” + +“Let it be read.” + +In a dead silence and stillness--the prisoner under trial looking +lovingly at his wife, his wife only looking from him to look with +solicitude at her father, Doctor Manette keeping his eyes fixed on the +reader, Madame Defarge never taking hers from the prisoner, Defarge +never taking his from his feasting wife, and all the other eyes there +intent upon the Doctor, who saw none of them--the paper was read, as +follows. + + + + +X. The Substance of the Shadow + + +“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and +afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful +cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write +it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it +in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a +place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I +and my sorrows are dust. + +“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with +difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed +with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope +has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have +noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I +solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right +mind--that my memory is exact and circumstantial--and that I write the +truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they +be ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat. + +“One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the +twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired +part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, +at an hour's distance from my place of residence in the Street of the +School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very +fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it +might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a +voice called to the driver to stop. + +“The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, +and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage +was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the +door and alight before I came up with it. + +“I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to +conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, +I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather +younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, +and (as far as I could see) face too. + +“'You are Doctor Manette?' said one. + +“I am.” + +“'Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,' said the other; 'the young +physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two +has made a rising reputation in Paris?' + +“'Gentlemen,' I returned, 'I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so +graciously.' + +“'We have been to your residence,' said the first, 'and not being +so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were +probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of +overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?' + +“The manner of both was imperious, and they both moved, as these words +were spoken, so as to place me between themselves and the carriage door. +They were armed. I was not. + +“'Gentlemen,' said I, 'pardon me; but I usually inquire who does me +the honour to seek my assistance, and what is the nature of the case to +which I am summoned.' + +“The reply to this was made by him who had spoken second. 'Doctor, +your clients are people of condition. As to the nature of the case, +our confidence in your skill assures us that you will ascertain it for +yourself better than we can describe it. Enough. Will you please to +enter the carriage?' + +“I could do nothing but comply, and I entered it in silence. They both +entered after me--the last springing in, after putting up the steps. The +carriage turned about, and drove on at its former speed. + +“I repeat this conversation exactly as it occurred. I have no doubt that +it is, word for word, the same. I describe everything exactly as it took +place, constraining my mind not to wander from the task. Where I make +the broken marks that follow here, I leave off for the time, and put my +paper in its hiding-place. + + ***** + +“The carriage left the streets behind, passed the North Barrier, and +emerged upon the country road. At two-thirds of a league from the +Barrier--I did not estimate the distance at that time, but afterwards +when I traversed it--it struck out of the main avenue, and presently +stopped at a solitary house, We all three alighted, and walked, by +a damp soft footpath in a garden where a neglected fountain had +overflowed, to the door of the house. It was not opened immediately, in +answer to the ringing of the bell, and one of my two conductors struck +the man who opened it, with his heavy riding glove, across the face. + +“There was nothing in this action to attract my particular attention, +for I had seen common people struck more commonly than dogs. But, the +other of the two, being angry likewise, struck the man in like manner +with his arm; the look and bearing of the brothers were then so exactly +alike, that I then first perceived them to be twin brothers. + +“From the time of our alighting at the outer gate (which we found +locked, and which one of the brothers had opened to admit us, and had +relocked), I had heard cries proceeding from an upper chamber. I was +conducted to this chamber straight, the cries growing louder as we +ascended the stairs, and I found a patient in a high fever of the brain, +lying on a bed. + +“The patient was a woman of great beauty, and young; assuredly not much +past twenty. Her hair was torn and ragged, and her arms were bound to +her sides with sashes and handkerchiefs. I noticed that these bonds were +all portions of a gentleman's dress. On one of them, which was a fringed +scarf for a dress of ceremony, I saw the armorial bearings of a Noble, +and the letter E. + +“I saw this, within the first minute of my contemplation of the patient; +for, in her restless strivings she had turned over on her face on the +edge of the bed, had drawn the end of the scarf into her mouth, and was +in danger of suffocation. My first act was to put out my hand to relieve +her breathing; and in moving the scarf aside, the embroidery in the +corner caught my sight. + +“I turned her gently over, placed my hands upon her breast to calm her +and keep her down, and looked into her face. Her eyes were dilated and +wild, and she constantly uttered piercing shrieks, and repeated the +words, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and then counted up to +twelve, and said, 'Hush!' For an instant, and no more, she would pause +to listen, and then the piercing shrieks would begin again, and she +would repeat the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' and +would count up to twelve, and say, 'Hush!' There was no variation in the +order, or the manner. There was no cessation, but the regular moment's +pause, in the utterance of these sounds. + +“'How long,' I asked, 'has this lasted?' + +“To distinguish the brothers, I will call them the elder and the +younger; by the elder, I mean him who exercised the most authority. It +was the elder who replied, 'Since about this hour last night.' + +“'She has a husband, a father, and a brother?' + +“'A brother.' + +“'I do not address her brother?' + +“He answered with great contempt, 'No.' + +“'She has some recent association with the number twelve?' + +“The younger brother impatiently rejoined, 'With twelve o'clock?' + +“'See, gentlemen,' said I, still keeping my hands upon her breast, 'how +useless I am, as you have brought me! If I had known what I was coming +to see, I could have come provided. As it is, time must be lost. There +are no medicines to be obtained in this lonely place.' + +“The elder brother looked to the younger, who said haughtily, 'There is +a case of medicines here;' and brought it from a closet, and put it on +the table. + + ***** + +“I opened some of the bottles, smelt them, and put the stoppers to my +lips. If I had wanted to use anything save narcotic medicines that were +poisons in themselves, I would not have administered any of those. + +“'Do you doubt them?' asked the younger brother. + +“'You see, monsieur, I am going to use them,' I replied, and said no +more. + +“I made the patient swallow, with great difficulty, and after many +efforts, the dose that I desired to give. As I intended to repeat it +after a while, and as it was necessary to watch its influence, I then +sat down by the side of the bed. There was a timid and suppressed woman +in attendance (wife of the man down-stairs), who had retreated into +a corner. The house was damp and decayed, indifferently +furnished--evidently, recently occupied and temporarily used. Some thick +old hangings had been nailed up before the windows, to deaden the +sound of the shrieks. They continued to be uttered in their regular +succession, with the cry, 'My husband, my father, and my brother!' the +counting up to twelve, and 'Hush!' The frenzy was so violent, that I had +not unfastened the bandages restraining the arms; but, I had looked to +them, to see that they were not painful. The only spark of encouragement +in the case, was, that my hand upon the sufferer's breast had this much +soothing influence, that for minutes at a time it tranquillised the +figure. It had no effect upon the cries; no pendulum could be more +regular. + +“For the reason that my hand had this effect (I assume), I had sat by +the side of the bed for half an hour, with the two brothers looking on, +before the elder said: + +“'There is another patient.' + +“I was startled, and asked, 'Is it a pressing case?' + +“'You had better see,' he carelessly answered; and took up a light. + + ***** + +“The other patient lay in a back room across a second staircase, which +was a species of loft over a stable. There was a low plastered ceiling +to a part of it; the rest was open, to the ridge of the tiled roof, and +there were beams across. Hay and straw were stored in that portion of +the place, fagots for firing, and a heap of apples in sand. I had to +pass through that part, to get at the other. My memory is circumstantial +and unshaken. I try it with these details, and I see them all, in +this my cell in the Bastille, near the close of the tenth year of my +captivity, as I saw them all that night. + +“On some hay on the ground, with a cushion thrown under his head, lay a +handsome peasant boy--a boy of not more than seventeen at the most. +He lay on his back, with his teeth set, his right hand clenched on his +breast, and his glaring eyes looking straight upward. I could not see +where his wound was, as I kneeled on one knee over him; but, I could see +that he was dying of a wound from a sharp point. + +“'I am a doctor, my poor fellow,' said I. 'Let me examine it.' + +“'I do not want it examined,' he answered; 'let it be.' + +“It was under his hand, and I soothed him to let me move his hand away. +The wound was a sword-thrust, received from twenty to twenty-four hours +before, but no skill could have saved him if it had been looked to +without delay. He was then dying fast. As I turned my eyes to the elder +brother, I saw him looking down at this handsome boy whose life was +ebbing out, as if he were a wounded bird, or hare, or rabbit; not at all +as if he were a fellow-creature. + +“'How has this been done, monsieur?' said I. + +“'A crazed young common dog! A serf! Forced my brother to draw upon him, +and has fallen by my brother's sword--like a gentleman.' + +“There was no touch of pity, sorrow, or kindred humanity, in this +answer. The speaker seemed to acknowledge that it was inconvenient to +have that different order of creature dying there, and that it would +have been better if he had died in the usual obscure routine of his +vermin kind. He was quite incapable of any compassionate feeling about +the boy, or about his fate. + +“The boy's eyes had slowly moved to him as he had spoken, and they now +slowly moved to me. + +“'Doctor, they are very proud, these Nobles; but we common dogs are +proud too, sometimes. They plunder us, outrage us, beat us, kill us; but +we have a little pride left, sometimes. She--have you seen her, Doctor?' + +“The shrieks and the cries were audible there, though subdued by the +distance. He referred to them, as if she were lying in our presence. + +“I said, 'I have seen her.' + +“'She is my sister, Doctor. They have had their shameful rights, these +Nobles, in the modesty and virtue of our sisters, many years, but we +have had good girls among us. I know it, and have heard my father say +so. She was a good girl. She was betrothed to a good young man, too: a +tenant of his. We were all tenants of his--that man's who stands there. +The other is his brother, the worst of a bad race.' + +“It was with the greatest difficulty that the boy gathered bodily force +to speak; but, his spirit spoke with a dreadful emphasis. + +“'We were so robbed by that man who stands there, as all we common dogs +are by those superior Beings--taxed by him without mercy, obliged to +work for him without pay, obliged to grind our corn at his mill, obliged +to feed scores of his tame birds on our wretched crops, and forbidden +for our lives to keep a single tame bird of our own, pillaged and +plundered to that degree that when we chanced to have a bit of meat, we +ate it in fear, with the door barred and the shutters closed, that his +people should not see it and take it from us--I say, we were so robbed, +and hunted, and were made so poor, that our father told us it was a +dreadful thing to bring a child into the world, and that what we should +most pray for, was, that our women might be barren and our miserable +race die out!' + +“I had never before seen the sense of being oppressed, bursting forth +like a fire. I had supposed that it must be latent in the people +somewhere; but, I had never seen it break out, until I saw it in the +dying boy. + +“'Nevertheless, Doctor, my sister married. He was ailing at that time, +poor fellow, and she married her lover, that she might tend and comfort +him in our cottage--our dog-hut, as that man would call it. She had not +been married many weeks, when that man's brother saw her and admired +her, and asked that man to lend her to him--for what are husbands among +us! He was willing enough, but my sister was good and virtuous, and +hated his brother with a hatred as strong as mine. What did the two +then, to persuade her husband to use his influence with her, to make her +willing?' + +“The boy's eyes, which had been fixed on mine, slowly turned to the +looker-on, and I saw in the two faces that all he said was true. The two +opposing kinds of pride confronting one another, I can see, even in this +Bastille; the gentleman's, all negligent indifference; the peasant's, all +trodden-down sentiment, and passionate revenge. + +“'You know, Doctor, that it is among the Rights of these Nobles to +harness us common dogs to carts, and drive us. They so harnessed him and +drove him. You know that it is among their Rights to keep us in their +grounds all night, quieting the frogs, in order that their noble sleep +may not be disturbed. They kept him out in the unwholesome mists at +night, and ordered him back into his harness in the day. But he was +not persuaded. No! Taken out of harness one day at noon, to feed--if he +could find food--he sobbed twelve times, once for every stroke of the +bell, and died on her bosom.' + +“Nothing human could have held life in the boy but his determination to +tell all his wrong. He forced back the gathering shadows of death, as +he forced his clenched right hand to remain clenched, and to cover his +wound. + +“'Then, with that man's permission and even with his aid, his +brother took her away; in spite of what I know she must have told his +brother--and what that is, will not be long unknown to you, Doctor, if +it is now--his brother took her away--for his pleasure and diversion, +for a little while. I saw her pass me on the road. When I took the +tidings home, our father's heart burst; he never spoke one of the words +that filled it. I took my young sister (for I have another) to a place +beyond the reach of this man, and where, at least, she will never be +_his_ vassal. Then, I tracked the brother here, and last night climbed +in--a common dog, but sword in hand.--Where is the loft window? It was +somewhere here?' + +“The room was darkening to his sight; the world was narrowing around +him. I glanced about me, and saw that the hay and straw were trampled +over the floor, as if there had been a struggle. + +“'She heard me, and ran in. I told her not to come near us till he was +dead. He came in and first tossed me some pieces of money; then struck +at me with a whip. But I, though a common dog, so struck at him as to +make him draw. Let him break into as many pieces as he will, the sword +that he stained with my common blood; he drew to defend himself--thrust +at me with all his skill for his life.' + +“My glance had fallen, but a few moments before, on the fragments of +a broken sword, lying among the hay. That weapon was a gentleman's. In +another place, lay an old sword that seemed to have been a soldier's. + +“'Now, lift me up, Doctor; lift me up. Where is he?' + +“'He is not here,' I said, supporting the boy, and thinking that he +referred to the brother. + +“'He! Proud as these nobles are, he is afraid to see me. Where is the +man who was here? Turn my face to him.' + +“I did so, raising the boy's head against my knee. But, invested for the +moment with extraordinary power, he raised himself completely: obliging +me to rise too, or I could not have still supported him. + +“'Marquis,' said the boy, turned to him with his eyes opened wide, and +his right hand raised, 'in the days when all these things are to be +answered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, to +answer for them. I mark this cross of blood upon you, as a sign that +I do it. In the days when all these things are to be answered for, +I summon your brother, the worst of the bad race, to answer for them +separately. I mark this cross of blood upon him, as a sign that I do +it.' + +“Twice, he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with his +forefinger drew a cross in the air. He stood for an instant with the +finger yet raised, and as it dropped, he dropped with it, and I laid him +down dead. + + ***** + +“When I returned to the bedside of the young woman, I found her raving +in precisely the same order of continuity. I knew that this might last +for many hours, and that it would probably end in the silence of the +grave. + +“I repeated the medicines I had given her, and I sat at the side of +the bed until the night was far advanced. She never abated the piercing +quality of her shrieks, never stumbled in the distinctness or the order +of her words. They were always 'My husband, my father, and my brother! +One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, +twelve. Hush!' + +“This lasted twenty-six hours from the time when I first saw her. I had +come and gone twice, and was again sitting by her, when she began to +falter. I did what little could be done to assist that opportunity, and +by-and-bye she sank into a lethargy, and lay like the dead. + +“It was as if the wind and rain had lulled at last, after a long and +fearful storm. I released her arms, and called the woman to assist me to +compose her figure and the dress she had torn. It was then that I knew +her condition to be that of one in whom the first expectations of being +a mother have arisen; and it was then that I lost the little hope I had +had of her. + +“'Is she dead?' asked the Marquis, whom I will still describe as the +elder brother, coming booted into the room from his horse. + +“'Not dead,' said I; 'but like to die.' + +“'What strength there is in these common bodies!' he said, looking down +at her with some curiosity. + +“'There is prodigious strength,' I answered him, 'in sorrow and +despair.' + +“He first laughed at my words, and then frowned at them. He moved a +chair with his foot near to mine, ordered the woman away, and said in a +subdued voice, + +“'Doctor, finding my brother in this difficulty with these hinds, I +recommended that your aid should be invited. Your reputation is high, +and, as a young man with your fortune to make, you are probably mindful +of your interest. The things that you see here, are things to be seen, +and not spoken of.' + +“I listened to the patient's breathing, and avoided answering. + +“'Do you honour me with your attention, Doctor?' + +“'Monsieur,' said I, 'in my profession, the communications of patients +are always received in confidence.' I was guarded in my answer, for I +was troubled in my mind with what I had heard and seen. + +“Her breathing was so difficult to trace, that I carefully tried the +pulse and the heart. There was life, and no more. Looking round as I +resumed my seat, I found both the brothers intent upon me. + + ***** + +“I write with so much difficulty, the cold is so severe, I am so +fearful of being detected and consigned to an underground cell and total +darkness, that I must abridge this narrative. There is no confusion or +failure in my memory; it can recall, and could detail, every word that +was ever spoken between me and those brothers. + +“She lingered for a week. Towards the last, I could understand some few +syllables that she said to me, by placing my ear close to her lips. She +asked me where she was, and I told her; who I was, and I told her. It +was in vain that I asked her for her family name. She faintly shook her +head upon the pillow, and kept her secret, as the boy had done. + +“I had no opportunity of asking her any question, until I had told the +brothers she was sinking fast, and could not live another day. Until +then, though no one was ever presented to her consciousness save the +woman and myself, one or other of them had always jealously sat behind +the curtain at the head of the bed when I was there. But when it came to +that, they seemed careless what communication I might hold with her; as +if--the thought passed through my mind--I were dying too. + +“I always observed that their pride bitterly resented the younger +brother's (as I call him) having crossed swords with a peasant, and that +peasant a boy. The only consideration that appeared to affect the mind +of either of them was the consideration that this was highly degrading +to the family, and was ridiculous. As often as I caught the younger +brother's eyes, their expression reminded me that he disliked me deeply, +for knowing what I knew from the boy. He was smoother and more polite to +me than the elder; but I saw this. I also saw that I was an incumbrance +in the mind of the elder, too. + +“My patient died, two hours before midnight--at a time, by my watch, +answering almost to the minute when I had first seen her. I was alone +with her, when her forlorn young head drooped gently on one side, and +all her earthly wrongs and sorrows ended. + +“The brothers were waiting in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride +away. I had heard them, alone at the bedside, striking their boots with +their riding-whips, and loitering up and down. + +“'At last she is dead?' said the elder, when I went in. + +“'She is dead,' said I. + +“'I congratulate you, my brother,' were his words as he turned round. + +“He had before offered me money, which I had postponed taking. He now +gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it on +the table. I had considered the question, and had resolved to accept +nothing. + +“'Pray excuse me,' said I. 'Under the circumstances, no.' + +“They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to +them, and we parted without another word on either side. + + ***** + +“I am weary, weary, weary--worn down by misery. I cannot read what I +have written with this gaunt hand. + +“Early in the morning, the rouleau of gold was left at my door in a +little box, with my name on the outside. From the first, I had anxiously +considered what I ought to do. I decided, that day, to write privately +to the Minister, stating the nature of the two cases to which I had been +summoned, and the place to which I had gone: in effect, stating all the +circumstances. I knew what Court influence was, and what the immunities +of the Nobles were, and I expected that the matter would never be +heard of; but, I wished to relieve my own mind. I had kept the matter a +profound secret, even from my wife; and this, too, I resolved to state +in my letter. I had no apprehension whatever of my real danger; but +I was conscious that there might be danger for others, if others were +compromised by possessing the knowledge that I possessed. + +“I was much engaged that day, and could not complete my letter that +night. I rose long before my usual time next morning to finish it. +It was the last day of the year. The letter was lying before me just +completed, when I was told that a lady waited, who wished to see me. + + ***** + +“I am growing more and more unequal to the task I have set myself. It is +so cold, so dark, my senses are so benumbed, and the gloom upon me is so +dreadful. + +“The lady was young, engaging, and handsome, but not marked for long +life. She was in great agitation. She presented herself to me as the +wife of the Marquis St. Evremonde. I connected the title by which the +boy had addressed the elder brother, with the initial letter embroidered +on the scarf, and had no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that I +had seen that nobleman very lately. + +“My memory is still accurate, but I cannot write the words of our +conversation. I suspect that I am watched more closely than I was, and I +know not at what times I may be watched. She had in part suspected, and +in part discovered, the main facts of the cruel story, of her husband's +share in it, and my being resorted to. She did not know that the girl +was dead. Her hope had been, she said in great distress, to show her, +in secret, a woman's sympathy. Her hope had been to avert the wrath of +Heaven from a House that had long been hateful to the suffering many. + +“She had reasons for believing that there was a young sister living, and +her greatest desire was, to help that sister. I could tell her nothing +but that there was such a sister; beyond that, I knew nothing. Her +inducement to come to me, relying on my confidence, had been the hope +that I could tell her the name and place of abode. Whereas, to this +wretched hour I am ignorant of both. + + ***** + +“These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warning, +yesterday. I must finish my record to-day. + +“She was a good, compassionate lady, and not happy in her marriage. How +could she be! The brother distrusted and disliked her, and his influence +was all opposed to her; she stood in dread of him, and in dread of her +husband too. When I handed her down to the door, there was a child, a +pretty boy from two to three years old, in her carriage. + +“'For his sake, Doctor,' she said, pointing to him in tears, 'I would do +all I can to make what poor amends I can. He will never prosper in his +inheritance otherwise. I have a presentiment that if no other innocent +atonement is made for this, it will one day be required of him. What +I have left to call my own--it is little beyond the worth of a few +jewels--I will make it the first charge of his life to bestow, with the +compassion and lamenting of his dead mother, on this injured family, if +the sister can be discovered.' + +“She kissed the boy, and said, caressing him, 'It is for thine own dear +sake. Thou wilt be faithful, little Charles?' The child answered her +bravely, 'Yes!' I kissed her hand, and she took him in her arms, and +went away caressing him. I never saw her more. + +“As she had mentioned her husband's name in the faith that I knew it, +I added no mention of it to my letter. I sealed my letter, and, not +trusting it out of my own hands, delivered it myself that day. + +“That night, the last night of the year, towards nine o'clock, a man in +a black dress rang at my gate, demanded to see me, and softly followed +my servant, Ernest Defarge, a youth, up-stairs. When my servant came +into the room where I sat with my wife--O my wife, beloved of my heart! +My fair young English wife!--we saw the man, who was supposed to be at +the gate, standing silent behind him. + +“An urgent case in the Rue St. Honore, he said. It would not detain me, +he had a coach in waiting. + +“It brought me here, it brought me to my grave. When I was clear of the +house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from behind, and +my arms were pinioned. The two brothers crossed the road from a dark +corner, and identified me with a single gesture. The Marquis took from +his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the light +of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot. +Not a word was spoken. I was brought here, I was brought to my living +grave. + +“If it had pleased _God_ to put it in the hard heart of either of the +brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of +my dearest wife--so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or +dead--I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them. But, +now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that +they have no part in His mercies. And them and their descendants, to the +last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last +night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times +when all these things shall be answered for. I denounce them to Heaven +and to earth.” + +A terrible sound arose when the reading of this document was done. A +sound of craving and eagerness that had nothing articulate in it but +blood. The narrative called up the most revengeful passions of the time, +and there was not a head in the nation but must have dropped before it. + +Little need, in presence of that tribunal and that auditory, to show +how the Defarges had not made the paper public, with the other captured +Bastille memorials borne in procession, and had kept it, biding their +time. Little need to show that this detested family name had long been +anathematised by Saint Antoine, and was wrought into the fatal register. +The man never trod ground whose virtues and services would have +sustained him in that place that day, against such denunciation. + +And all the worse for the doomed man, that the denouncer was a +well-known citizen, his own attached friend, the father of his wife. One +of the frenzied aspirations of the populace was, for imitations of +the questionable public virtues of antiquity, and for sacrifices and +self-immolations on the people's altar. Therefore when the President +said (else had his own head quivered on his shoulders), that the good +physician of the Republic would deserve better still of the Republic by +rooting out an obnoxious family of Aristocrats, and would doubtless feel +a sacred glow and joy in making his daughter a widow and her child an +orphan, there was wild excitement, patriotic fervour, not a touch of +human sympathy. + +“Much influence around him, has that Doctor?” murmured Madame Defarge, +smiling to The Vengeance. “Save him now, my Doctor, save him!” + +At every juryman's vote, there was a roar. Another and another. Roar and +roar. + +Unanimously voted. At heart and by descent an Aristocrat, an enemy +of the Republic, a notorious oppressor of the People. Back to the +Conciergerie, and Death within four-and-twenty hours! + + + + +XI. Dusk + + +The wretched wife of the innocent man thus doomed to die, fell under +the sentence, as if she had been mortally stricken. But, she uttered no +sound; and so strong was the voice within her, representing that it was +she of all the world who must uphold him in his misery and not augment +it, that it quickly raised her, even from that shock. + +The Judges having to take part in a public demonstration out of doors, +the Tribunal adjourned. The quick noise and movement of the court's +emptying itself by many passages had not ceased, when Lucie stood +stretching out her arms towards her husband, with nothing in her face +but love and consolation. + +“If I might touch him! If I might embrace him once! O, good citizens, if +you would have so much compassion for us!” + +There was but a gaoler left, along with two of the four men who had +taken him last night, and Barsad. The people had all poured out to the +show in the streets. Barsad proposed to the rest, “Let her embrace +him then; it is but a moment.” It was silently acquiesced in, and they +passed her over the seats in the hall to a raised place, where he, by +leaning over the dock, could fold her in his arms. + +“Farewell, dear darling of my soul. My parting blessing on my love. We +shall meet again, where the weary are at rest!” + +They were her husband's words, as he held her to his bosom. + +“I can bear it, dear Charles. I am supported from above: don't suffer +for me. A parting blessing for our child.” + +“I send it to her by you. I kiss her by you. I say farewell to her by +you.” + +“My husband. No! A moment!” He was tearing himself apart from her. +“We shall not be separated long. I feel that this will break my heart +by-and-bye; but I will do my duty while I can, and when I leave her, God +will raise up friends for her, as He did for me.” + +Her father had followed her, and would have fallen on his knees to both +of them, but that Darnay put out a hand and seized him, crying: + +“No, no! What have you done, what have you done, that you should kneel +to us! We know now, what a struggle you made of old. We know, now what +you underwent when you suspected my descent, and when you knew it. We +know now, the natural antipathy you strove against, and conquered, for +her dear sake. We thank you with all our hearts, and all our love and +duty. Heaven be with you!” + +Her father's only answer was to draw his hands through his white hair, +and wring them with a shriek of anguish. + +“It could not be otherwise,” said the prisoner. “All things have worked +together as they have fallen out. It was the always-vain endeavour to +discharge my poor mother's trust that first brought my fatal presence +near you. Good could never come of such evil, a happier end was not in +nature to so unhappy a beginning. Be comforted, and forgive me. Heaven +bless you!” + +As he was drawn away, his wife released him, and stood looking after him +with her hands touching one another in the attitude of prayer, and +with a radiant look upon her face, in which there was even a comforting +smile. As he went out at the prisoners' door, she turned, laid her head +lovingly on her father's breast, tried to speak to him, and fell at his +feet. + +Then, issuing from the obscure corner from which he had never moved, +Sydney Carton came and took her up. Only her father and Mr. Lorry were +with her. His arm trembled as it raised her, and supported her head. +Yet, there was an air about him that was not all of pity--that had a +flush of pride in it. + +“Shall I take her to a coach? I shall never feel her weight.” + +He carried her lightly to the door, and laid her tenderly down in a +coach. Her father and their old friend got into it, and he took his seat +beside the driver. + +When they arrived at the gateway where he had paused in the dark not +many hours before, to picture to himself on which of the rough stones of +the street her feet had trodden, he lifted her again, and carried her up +the staircase to their rooms. There, he laid her down on a couch, where +her child and Miss Pross wept over her. + +“Don't recall her to herself,” he said, softly, to the latter, “she is +better so. Don't revive her to consciousness, while she only faints.” + +“Oh, Carton, Carton, dear Carton!” cried little Lucie, springing up and +throwing her arms passionately round him, in a burst of grief. “Now that +you have come, I think you will do something to help mamma, something to +save papa! O, look at her, dear Carton! Can you, of all the people who +love her, bear to see her so?” + +He bent over the child, and laid her blooming cheek against his face. He +put her gently from him, and looked at her unconscious mother. + +“Before I go,” he said, and paused--“I may kiss her?” + +It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her face +with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest to +him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was a +handsome old lady, that she heard him say, “A life you love.” + +When he had gone out into the next room, he turned suddenly on Mr. Lorry +and her father, who were following, and said to the latter: + +“You had great influence but yesterday, Doctor Manette; let it at least +be tried. These judges, and all the men in power, are very friendly to +you, and very recognisant of your services; are they not?” + +“Nothing connected with Charles was concealed from me. I had the +strongest assurances that I should save him; and I did.” He returned the +answer in great trouble, and very slowly. + +“Try them again. The hours between this and to-morrow afternoon are few +and short, but try.” + +“I intend to try. I will not rest a moment.” + +“That's well. I have known such energy as yours do great things before +now--though never,” he added, with a smile and a sigh together, “such +great things as this. But try! Of little worth as life is when we misuse +it, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if it +were not.” + +“I will go,” said Doctor Manette, “to the Prosecutor and the President +straight, and I will go to others whom it is better not to name. I will +write too, and--But stay! There is a Celebration in the streets, and no +one will be accessible until dark.” + +“That's true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not much the +forlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to know how you +speed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you likely to have seen +these dread powers, Doctor Manette?” + +“Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two from +this.” + +“It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two. If I +go to Mr. Lorry's at nine, shall I hear what you have done, either from +our friend or from yourself?” + +“Yes.” + +“May you prosper!” + +Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on the +shoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn. + +“I have no hope,” said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper. + +“Nor have I.” + +“If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to spare +him--which is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any man's +to them!--I doubt if they durst spare him after the demonstration in the +court.” + +“And so do I. I heard the fall of the axe in that sound.” + +Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post, and bowed his face upon it. + +“Don't despond,” said Carton, very gently; “don't grieve. I encouraged +Doctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it might one day be +consolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think 'his life was wantonly +thrown away or wasted,' and that might trouble her.” + +“Yes, yes, yes,” returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, “you are right. +But he will perish; there is no real hope.” + +“Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope,” echoed Carton. + +And walked with a settled step, down-stairs. + + + + +XII. Darkness + + +Sydney Carton paused in the street, not quite decided where to go. “At +Tellson's banking-house at nine,” he said, with a musing face. “Shall I +do well, in the mean time, to show myself? I think so. It is best that +these people should know there is such a man as I here; it is a sound +precaution, and may be a necessary preparation. But care, care, care! +Let me think it out!” + +Checking his steps which had begun to tend towards an object, he took a +turn or two in the already darkening street, and traced the thought +in his mind to its possible consequences. His first impression was +confirmed. “It is best,” he said, finally resolved, “that these people +should know there is such a man as I here.” And he turned his face +towards Saint Antoine. + +Defarge had described himself, that day, as the keeper of a wine-shop in +the Saint Antoine suburb. It was not difficult for one who knew the city +well, to find his house without asking any question. Having ascertained +its situation, Carton came out of those closer streets again, and dined +at a place of refreshment and fell sound asleep after dinner. For the +first time in many years, he had no strong drink. Since last night he +had taken nothing but a little light thin wine, and last night he had +dropped the brandy slowly down on Mr. Lorry's hearth like a man who had +done with it. + +It was as late as seven o'clock when he awoke refreshed, and went out +into the streets again. As he passed along towards Saint Antoine, he +stopped at a shop-window where there was a mirror, and slightly altered +the disordered arrangement of his loose cravat, and his coat-collar, and +his wild hair. This done, he went on direct to Defarge's, and went in. + +There happened to be no customer in the shop but Jacques Three, of the +restless fingers and the croaking voice. This man, whom he had seen upon +the Jury, stood drinking at the little counter, in conversation with the +Defarges, man and wife. The Vengeance assisted in the conversation, like +a regular member of the establishment. + +As Carton walked in, took his seat and asked (in very indifferent +French) for a small measure of wine, Madame Defarge cast a careless +glance at him, and then a keener, and then a keener, and then advanced +to him herself, and asked him what it was he had ordered. + +He repeated what he had already said. + +“English?” asked Madame Defarge, inquisitively raising her dark +eyebrows. + +After looking at her, as if the sound of even a single French word were +slow to express itself to him, he answered, in his former strong foreign +accent. “Yes, madame, yes. I am English!” + +Madame Defarge returned to her counter to get the wine, and, as he +took up a Jacobin journal and feigned to pore over it puzzling out its +meaning, he heard her say, “I swear to you, like Evremonde!” + +Defarge brought him the wine, and gave him Good Evening. + +“How?” + +“Good evening.” + +“Oh! Good evening, citizen,” filling his glass. “Ah! and good wine. I +drink to the Republic.” + +Defarge went back to the counter, and said, “Certainly, a little like.” + Madame sternly retorted, “I tell you a good deal like.” Jacques Three +pacifically remarked, “He is so much in your mind, see you, madame.” + The amiable Vengeance added, with a laugh, “Yes, my faith! And you +are looking forward with so much pleasure to seeing him once more +to-morrow!” + +Carton followed the lines and words of his paper, with a slow +forefinger, and with a studious and absorbed face. They were all leaning +their arms on the counter close together, speaking low. After a silence +of a few moments, during which they all looked towards him without +disturbing his outward attention from the Jacobin editor, they resumed +their conversation. + +“It is true what madame says,” observed Jacques Three. “Why stop? There +is great force in that. Why stop?” + +“Well, well,” reasoned Defarge, “but one must stop somewhere. After all, +the question is still where?” + +“At extermination,” said madame. + +“Magnificent!” croaked Jacques Three. The Vengeance, also, highly +approved. + +“Extermination is good doctrine, my wife,” said Defarge, rather +troubled; “in general, I say nothing against it. But this Doctor has +suffered much; you have seen him to-day; you have observed his face when +the paper was read.” + +“I have observed his face!” repeated madame, contemptuously and angrily. +“Yes. I have observed his face. I have observed his face to be not the +face of a true friend of the Republic. Let him take care of his face!” + +“And you have observed, my wife,” said Defarge, in a deprecatory manner, +“the anguish of his daughter, which must be a dreadful anguish to him!” + +“I have observed his daughter,” repeated madame; “yes, I have observed +his daughter, more times than one. I have observed her to-day, and I +have observed her other days. I have observed her in the court, and +I have observed her in the street by the prison. Let me but lift my +finger--!” She seemed to raise it (the listener's eyes were always on +his paper), and to let it fall with a rattle on the ledge before her, as +if the axe had dropped. + +“The citizeness is superb!” croaked the Juryman. + +“She is an Angel!” said The Vengeance, and embraced her. + +“As to thee,” pursued madame, implacably, addressing her husband, “if it +depended on thee--which, happily, it does not--thou wouldst rescue this +man even now.” + +“No!” protested Defarge. “Not if to lift this glass would do it! But I +would leave the matter there. I say, stop there.” + +“See you then, Jacques,” said Madame Defarge, wrathfully; “and see you, +too, my little Vengeance; see you both! Listen! For other crimes as +tyrants and oppressors, I have this race a long time on my register, +doomed to destruction and extermination. Ask my husband, is that so.” + +“It is so,” assented Defarge, without being asked. + +“In the beginning of the great days, when the Bastille falls, he finds +this paper of to-day, and he brings it home, and in the middle of the +night when this place is clear and shut, we read it, here on this spot, +by the light of this lamp. Ask him, is that so.” + +“It is so,” assented Defarge. + +“That night, I tell him, when the paper is read through, and the lamp is +burnt out, and the day is gleaming in above those shutters and between +those iron bars, that I have now a secret to communicate. Ask him, is +that so.” + +“It is so,” assented Defarge again. + +“I communicate to him that secret. I smite this bosom with these two +hands as I smite it now, and I tell him, 'Defarge, I was brought up +among the fishermen of the sea-shore, and that peasant family so injured +by the two Evremonde brothers, as that Bastille paper describes, is my +family. Defarge, that sister of the mortally wounded boy upon the ground +was my sister, that husband was my sister's husband, that unborn child +was their child, that brother was my brother, that father was my father, +those dead are my dead, and that summons to answer for those things +descends to me!' Ask him, is that so.” + +“It is so,” assented Defarge once more. + +“Then tell Wind and Fire where to stop,” returned madame; “but don't +tell me.” + +Both her hearers derived a horrible enjoyment from the deadly nature +of her wrath--the listener could feel how white she was, without seeing +her--and both highly commended it. Defarge, a weak minority, interposed +a few words for the memory of the compassionate wife of the Marquis; but +only elicited from his own wife a repetition of her last reply. “Tell +the Wind and the Fire where to stop; not me!” + +Customers entered, and the group was broken up. The English customer +paid for what he had had, perplexedly counted his change, and asked, as +a stranger, to be directed towards the National Palace. Madame Defarge +took him to the door, and put her arm on his, in pointing out the road. +The English customer was not without his reflections then, that it might +be a good deed to seize that arm, lift it, and strike under it sharp and +deep. + +But, he went his way, and was soon swallowed up in the shadow of the +prison wall. At the appointed hour, he emerged from it to present +himself in Mr. Lorry's room again, where he found the old gentleman +walking to and fro in restless anxiety. He said he had been with Lucie +until just now, and had only left her for a few minutes, to come and +keep his appointment. Her father had not been seen, since he quitted the +banking-house towards four o'clock. She had some faint hopes that his +mediation might save Charles, but they were very slight. He had been +more than five hours gone: where could he be? + +Mr. Lorry waited until ten; but, Doctor Manette not returning, and +he being unwilling to leave Lucie any longer, it was arranged that he +should go back to her, and come to the banking-house again at midnight. +In the meanwhile, Carton would wait alone by the fire for the Doctor. + +He waited and waited, and the clock struck twelve; but Doctor Manette +did not come back. Mr. Lorry returned, and found no tidings of him, and +brought none. Where could he be? + +They were discussing this question, and were almost building up some +weak structure of hope on his prolonged absence, when they heard him on +the stairs. The instant he entered the room, it was plain that all was +lost. + +Whether he had really been to any one, or whether he had been all that +time traversing the streets, was never known. As he stood staring at +them, they asked him no question, for his face told them everything. + +“I cannot find it,” said he, “and I must have it. Where is it?” + +His head and throat were bare, and, as he spoke with a helpless look +straying all around, he took his coat off, and let it drop on the floor. + +“Where is my bench? I have been looking everywhere for my bench, and I +can't find it. What have they done with my work? Time presses: I must +finish those shoes.” + +They looked at one another, and their hearts died within them. + +“Come, come!” said he, in a whimpering miserable way; “let me get to +work. Give me my work.” + +Receiving no answer, he tore his hair, and beat his feet upon the +ground, like a distracted child. + +“Don't torture a poor forlorn wretch,” he implored them, with a dreadful +cry; “but give me my work! What is to become of us, if those shoes are +not done to-night?” + +Lost, utterly lost! + +It was so clearly beyond hope to reason with him, or try to restore him, +that--as if by agreement--they each put a hand upon his shoulder, and +soothed him to sit down before the fire, with a promise that he should +have his work presently. He sank into the chair, and brooded over the +embers, and shed tears. As if all that had happened since the garret +time were a momentary fancy, or a dream, Mr. Lorry saw him shrink into +the exact figure that Defarge had had in keeping. + +Affected, and impressed with terror as they both were, by this spectacle +of ruin, it was not a time to yield to such emotions. His lonely +daughter, bereft of her final hope and reliance, appealed to them both +too strongly. Again, as if by agreement, they looked at one another with +one meaning in their faces. Carton was the first to speak: + +“The last chance is gone: it was not much. Yes; he had better be taken +to her. But, before you go, will you, for a moment, steadily attend to +me? Don't ask me why I make the stipulations I am going to make, and +exact the promise I am going to exact; I have a reason--a good one.” + +“I do not doubt it,” answered Mr. Lorry. “Say on.” + +The figure in the chair between them, was all the time monotonously +rocking itself to and fro, and moaning. They spoke in such a tone as +they would have used if they had been watching by a sick-bed in the +night. + +Carton stooped to pick up the coat, which lay almost entangling his +feet. As he did so, a small case in which the Doctor was accustomed to +carry the lists of his day's duties, fell lightly on the floor. Carton +took it up, and there was a folded paper in it. “We should look +at this!” he said. Mr. Lorry nodded his consent. He opened it, and +exclaimed, “Thank _God!_” + +“What is it?” asked Mr. Lorry, eagerly. + +“A moment! Let me speak of it in its place. First,” he put his hand in +his coat, and took another paper from it, “that is the certificate which +enables me to pass out of this city. Look at it. You see--Sydney Carton, +an Englishman?” + +Mr. Lorry held it open in his hand, gazing in his earnest face. + +“Keep it for me until to-morrow. I shall see him to-morrow, you +remember, and I had better not take it into the prison.” + +“Why not?” + +“I don't know; I prefer not to do so. Now, take this paper that Doctor +Manette has carried about him. It is a similar certificate, enabling him +and his daughter and her child, at any time, to pass the barrier and the +frontier! You see?” + +“Yes!” + +“Perhaps he obtained it as his last and utmost precaution against evil, +yesterday. When is it dated? But no matter; don't stay to look; put it +up carefully with mine and your own. Now, observe! I never doubted until +within this hour or two, that he had, or could have such a paper. It is +good, until recalled. But it may be soon recalled, and, I have reason to +think, will be.” + +“They are not in danger?” + +“They are in great danger. They are in danger of denunciation by Madame +Defarge. I know it from her own lips. I have overheard words of that +woman's, to-night, which have presented their danger to me in strong +colours. I have lost no time, and since then, I have seen the spy. He +confirms me. He knows that a wood-sawyer, living by the prison wall, +is under the control of the Defarges, and has been rehearsed by +Madame Defarge as to his having seen Her”--he never mentioned Lucie's +name--“making signs and signals to prisoners. It is easy to foresee that +the pretence will be the common one, a prison plot, and that it will +involve her life--and perhaps her child's--and perhaps her father's--for +both have been seen with her at that place. Don't look so horrified. You +will save them all.” + +“Heaven grant I may, Carton! But how?” + +“I am going to tell you how. It will depend on you, and it could depend +on no better man. This new denunciation will certainly not take place +until after to-morrow; probably not until two or three days afterwards; +more probably a week afterwards. You know it is a capital crime, to +mourn for, or sympathise with, a victim of the Guillotine. She and her +father would unquestionably be guilty of this crime, and this woman (the +inveteracy of whose pursuit cannot be described) would wait to add that +strength to her case, and make herself doubly sure. You follow me?” + +“So attentively, and with so much confidence in what you say, that for +the moment I lose sight,” touching the back of the Doctor's chair, “even +of this distress.” + +“You have money, and can buy the means of travelling to the seacoast +as quickly as the journey can be made. Your preparations have been +completed for some days, to return to England. Early to-morrow have your +horses ready, so that they may be in starting trim at two o'clock in the +afternoon.” + +“It shall be done!” + +His manner was so fervent and inspiring, that Mr. Lorry caught the +flame, and was as quick as youth. + +“You are a noble heart. Did I say we could depend upon no better man? +Tell her, to-night, what you know of her danger as involving her child +and her father. Dwell upon that, for she would lay her own fair head +beside her husband's cheerfully.” He faltered for an instant; then went +on as before. “For the sake of her child and her father, press upon her +the necessity of leaving Paris, with them and you, at that hour. Tell +her that it was her husband's last arrangement. Tell her that more +depends upon it than she dare believe, or hope. You think that her +father, even in this sad state, will submit himself to her; do you not?” + +“I am sure of it.” + +“I thought so. Quietly and steadily have all these arrangements made in +the courtyard here, even to the taking of your own seat in the carriage. +The moment I come to you, take me in, and drive away.” + +“I understand that I wait for you under all circumstances?” + +“You have my certificate in your hand with the rest, you know, and will +reserve my place. Wait for nothing but to have my place occupied, and +then for England!” + +“Why, then,” said Mr. Lorry, grasping his eager but so firm and steady +hand, “it does not all depend on one old man, but I shall have a young +and ardent man at my side.” + +“By the help of Heaven you shall! Promise me solemnly that nothing will +influence you to alter the course on which we now stand pledged to one +another.” + +“Nothing, Carton.” + +“Remember these words to-morrow: change the course, or delay in it--for +any reason--and no life can possibly be saved, and many lives must +inevitably be sacrificed.” + +“I will remember them. I hope to do my part faithfully.” + +“And I hope to do mine. Now, good bye!” + +Though he said it with a grave smile of earnestness, and though he even +put the old man's hand to his lips, he did not part from him then. He +helped him so far to arouse the rocking figure before the dying embers, +as to get a cloak and hat put upon it, and to tempt it forth to find +where the bench and work were hidden that it still moaningly besought +to have. He walked on the other side of it and protected it to the +courtyard of the house where the afflicted heart--so happy in +the memorable time when he had revealed his own desolate heart to +it--outwatched the awful night. He entered the courtyard and remained +there for a few moments alone, looking up at the light in the window of +her room. Before he went away, he breathed a blessing towards it, and a +Farewell. + + + + +XIII. Fifty-two + + +In the black prison of the Conciergerie, the doomed of the day awaited +their fate. They were in number as the weeks of the year. Fifty-two were +to roll that afternoon on the life-tide of the city to the boundless +everlasting sea. Before their cells were quit of them, new occupants +were appointed; before their blood ran into the blood spilled yesterday, +the blood that was to mingle with theirs to-morrow was already set +apart. + +Two score and twelve were told off. From the farmer-general of seventy, +whose riches could not buy his life, to the seamstress of twenty, whose +poverty and obscurity could not save her. Physical diseases, engendered +in the vices and neglects of men, will seize on victims of all degrees; +and the frightful moral disorder, born of unspeakable suffering, +intolerable oppression, and heartless indifference, smote equally +without distinction. + +Charles Darnay, alone in a cell, had sustained himself with no +flattering delusion since he came to it from the Tribunal. In every line +of the narrative he had heard, he had heard his condemnation. He had +fully comprehended that no personal influence could possibly save him, +that he was virtually sentenced by the millions, and that units could +avail him nothing. + +Nevertheless, it was not easy, with the face of his beloved wife fresh +before him, to compose his mind to what it must bear. His hold on life +was strong, and it was very, very hard, to loosen; by gradual efforts +and degrees unclosed a little here, it clenched the tighter there; and +when he brought his strength to bear on that hand and it yielded, +this was closed again. There was a hurry, too, in all his thoughts, +a turbulent and heated working of his heart, that contended against +resignation. If, for a moment, he did feel resigned, then his wife and +child who had to live after him, seemed to protest and to make it a +selfish thing. + +But, all this was at first. Before long, the consideration that there +was no disgrace in the fate he must meet, and that numbers went the same +road wrongfully, and trod it firmly every day, sprang up to stimulate +him. Next followed the thought that much of the future peace of mind +enjoyable by the dear ones, depended on his quiet fortitude. So, +by degrees he calmed into the better state, when he could raise his +thoughts much higher, and draw comfort down. + +Before it had set in dark on the night of his condemnation, he had +travelled thus far on his last way. Being allowed to purchase the means +of writing, and a light, he sat down to write until such time as the +prison lamps should be extinguished. + +He wrote a long letter to Lucie, showing her that he had known nothing +of her father's imprisonment, until he had heard of it from herself, +and that he had been as ignorant as she of his father's and uncle's +responsibility for that misery, until the paper had been read. He had +already explained to her that his concealment from herself of the name +he had relinquished, was the one condition--fully intelligible now--that +her father had attached to their betrothal, and was the one promise he +had still exacted on the morning of their marriage. He entreated her, +for her father's sake, never to seek to know whether her father had +become oblivious of the existence of the paper, or had had it recalled +to him (for the moment, or for good), by the story of the Tower, on +that old Sunday under the dear old plane-tree in the garden. If he had +preserved any definite remembrance of it, there could be no doubt that +he had supposed it destroyed with the Bastille, when he had found no +mention of it among the relics of prisoners which the populace had +discovered there, and which had been described to all the world. He +besought her--though he added that he knew it was needless--to console +her father, by impressing him through every tender means she could think +of, with the truth that he had done nothing for which he could justly +reproach himself, but had uniformly forgotten himself for their joint +sakes. Next to her preservation of his own last grateful love and +blessing, and her overcoming of her sorrow, to devote herself to their +dear child, he adjured her, as they would meet in Heaven, to comfort her +father. + +To her father himself, he wrote in the same strain; but, he told her +father that he expressly confided his wife and child to his care. And +he told him this, very strongly, with the hope of rousing him from any +despondency or dangerous retrospect towards which he foresaw he might be +tending. + +To Mr. Lorry, he commended them all, and explained his worldly affairs. +That done, with many added sentences of grateful friendship and warm +attachment, all was done. He never thought of Carton. His mind was so +full of the others, that he never once thought of him. + +He had time to finish these letters before the lights were put out. When +he lay down on his straw bed, he thought he had done with this world. + +But, it beckoned him back in his sleep, and showed itself in shining +forms. Free and happy, back in the old house in Soho (though it had +nothing in it like the real house), unaccountably released and light of +heart, he was with Lucie again, and she told him it was all a dream, and +he had never gone away. A pause of forgetfulness, and then he had even +suffered, and had come back to her, dead and at peace, and yet there +was no difference in him. Another pause of oblivion, and he awoke in the +sombre morning, unconscious where he was or what had happened, until it +flashed upon his mind, “this is the day of my death!” + +Thus, had he come through the hours, to the day when the fifty-two heads +were to fall. And now, while he was composed, and hoped that he could +meet the end with quiet heroism, a new action began in his waking +thoughts, which was very difficult to master. + +He had never seen the instrument that was to terminate his life. How +high it was from the ground, how many steps it had, where he would be +stood, how he would be touched, whether the touching hands would be dyed +red, which way his face would be turned, whether he would be the first, +or might be the last: these and many similar questions, in nowise +directed by his will, obtruded themselves over and over again, countless +times. Neither were they connected with fear: he was conscious of no +fear. Rather, they originated in a strange besetting desire to know what +to do when the time came; a desire gigantically disproportionate to the +few swift moments to which it referred; a wondering that was more like +the wondering of some other spirit within his, than his own. + +The hours went on as he walked to and fro, and the clocks struck the +numbers he would never hear again. Nine gone for ever, ten gone for +ever, eleven gone for ever, twelve coming on to pass away. After a hard +contest with that eccentric action of thought which had last perplexed +him, he had got the better of it. He walked up and down, softly +repeating their names to himself. The worst of the strife was over. +He could walk up and down, free from distracting fancies, praying for +himself and for them. + +Twelve gone for ever. + +He had been apprised that the final hour was Three, and he knew he would +be summoned some time earlier, inasmuch as the tumbrils jolted heavily +and slowly through the streets. Therefore, he resolved to keep Two +before his mind, as the hour, and so to strengthen himself in the +interval that he might be able, after that time, to strengthen others. + +Walking regularly to and fro with his arms folded on his breast, a very +different man from the prisoner, who had walked to and fro at La Force, +he heard One struck away from him, without surprise. The hour had +measured like most other hours. Devoutly thankful to Heaven for his +recovered self-possession, he thought, “There is but another now,” and +turned to walk again. + +Footsteps in the stone passage outside the door. He stopped. + +The key was put in the lock, and turned. Before the door was opened, or +as it opened, a man said in a low voice, in English: “He has never seen +me here; I have kept out of his way. Go you in alone; I wait near. Lose +no time!” + +The door was quickly opened and closed, and there stood before him +face to face, quiet, intent upon him, with the light of a smile on his +features, and a cautionary finger on his lip, Sydney Carton. + +There was something so bright and remarkable in his look, that, for the +first moment, the prisoner misdoubted him to be an apparition of his own +imagining. But, he spoke, and it was his voice; he took the prisoner's +hand, and it was his real grasp. + +“Of all the people upon earth, you least expected to see me?” he said. + +“I could not believe it to be you. I can scarcely believe it now. You +are not”--the apprehension came suddenly into his mind--“a prisoner?” + +“No. I am accidentally possessed of a power over one of the keepers +here, and in virtue of it I stand before you. I come from her--your +wife, dear Darnay.” + +The prisoner wrung his hand. + +“I bring you a request from her.” + +“What is it?” + +“A most earnest, pressing, and emphatic entreaty, addressed to you +in the most pathetic tones of the voice so dear to you, that you well +remember.” + +The prisoner turned his face partly aside. + +“You have no time to ask me why I bring it, or what it means; I have +no time to tell you. You must comply with it--take off those boots you +wear, and draw on these of mine.” + +There was a chair against the wall of the cell, behind the prisoner. +Carton, pressing forward, had already, with the speed of lightning, got +him down into it, and stood over him, barefoot. + +“Draw on these boots of mine. Put your hands to them; put your will to +them. Quick!” + +“Carton, there is no escaping from this place; it never can be done. You +will only die with me. It is madness.” + +“It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask you +to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Change +that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you do +it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like +this of mine!” + +With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action, +that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. +The prisoner was like a young child in his hands. + +“Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it never +can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore you +not to add your death to the bitterness of mine.” + +“Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, +refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand +steady enough to write?” + +“It was when you came in.” + +“Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!” + +Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. +Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him. + +“Write exactly as I speak.” + +“To whom do I address it?” + +“To no one.” Carton still had his hand in his breast. + +“Do I date it?” + +“No.” + +The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him with +his hand in his breast, looked down. + +“'If you remember,'” said Carton, dictating, “'the words that passed +between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it. +You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.'” + +He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look +up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing upon +something. + +“Have you written 'forget them'?” Carton asked. + +“I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?” + +“No; I am not armed.” + +“What is it in your hand?” + +“You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more.” He +dictated again. “'I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove +them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.'” As he said these +words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly +moved down close to the writer's face. + +The pen dropped from Darnay's fingers on the table, and he looked about +him vacantly. + +“What vapour is that?” he asked. + +“Vapour?” + +“Something that crossed me?” + +“I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen +and finish. Hurry, hurry!” + +As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the +prisoner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton +with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton--his +hand again in his breast--looked steadily at him. + +“Hurry, hurry!” + +The prisoner bent over the paper, once more. + +“'If it had been otherwise;'” Carton's hand was again watchfully and +softly stealing down; “'I never should have used the longer opportunity. +If it had been otherwise;'” the hand was at the prisoner's face; “'I +should but have had so much the more to answer for. If it had been +otherwise--'” Carton looked at the pen and saw it was trailing off into +unintelligible signs. + +Carton's hand moved back to his breast no more. The prisoner sprang up +with a reproachful look, but Carton's hand was close and firm at his +nostrils, and Carton's left arm caught him round the waist. For a few +seconds he faintly struggled with the man who had come to lay down his +life for him; but, within a minute or so, he was stretched insensible on +the ground. + +Quickly, but with hands as true to the purpose as his heart was, Carton +dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside, combed back +his hair, and tied it with the ribbon the prisoner had worn. Then, he +softly called, “Enter there! Come in!” and the Spy presented himself. + +“You see?” said Carton, looking up, as he kneeled on one knee beside the +insensible figure, putting the paper in the breast: “is your hazard very +great?” + +“Mr. Carton,” the Spy answered, with a timid snap of his fingers, “my +hazard is not _that_, in the thick of business here, if you are true to +the whole of your bargain.” + +“Don't fear me. I will be true to the death.” + +“You must be, Mr. Carton, if the tale of fifty-two is to be right. Being +made right by you in that dress, I shall have no fear.” + +“Have no fear! I shall soon be out of the way of harming you, and the +rest will soon be far from here, please God! Now, get assistance and +take me to the coach.” + +“You?” said the Spy nervously. + +“Him, man, with whom I have exchanged. You go out at the gate by which +you brought me in?” + +“Of course.” + +“I was weak and faint when you brought me in, and I am fainter now you +take me out. The parting interview has overpowered me. Such a thing has +happened here, often, and too often. Your life is in your own hands. +Quick! Call assistance!” + +“You swear not to betray me?” said the trembling Spy, as he paused for a +last moment. + +“Man, man!” returned Carton, stamping his foot; “have I sworn by no +solemn vow already, to go through with this, that you waste the precious +moments now? Take him yourself to the courtyard you know of, place +him yourself in the carriage, show him yourself to Mr. Lorry, tell him +yourself to give him no restorative but air, and to remember my words of +last night, and his promise of last night, and drive away!” + +The Spy withdrew, and Carton seated himself at the table, resting his +forehead on his hands. The Spy returned immediately, with two men. + +“How, then?” said one of them, contemplating the fallen figure. “So +afflicted to find that his friend has drawn a prize in the lottery of +Sainte Guillotine?” + +“A good patriot,” said the other, “could hardly have been more afflicted +if the Aristocrat had drawn a blank.” + +They raised the unconscious figure, placed it on a litter they had +brought to the door, and bent to carry it away. + +“The time is short, Evremonde,” said the Spy, in a warning voice. + +“I know it well,” answered Carton. “Be careful of my friend, I entreat +you, and leave me.” + +“Come, then, my children,” said Barsad. “Lift him, and come away!” + +The door closed, and Carton was left alone. Straining his powers of +listening to the utmost, he listened for any sound that might denote +suspicion or alarm. There was none. Keys turned, doors clashed, +footsteps passed along distant passages: no cry was raised, or hurry +made, that seemed unusual. Breathing more freely in a little while, he +sat down at the table, and listened again until the clock struck Two. + +Sounds that he was not afraid of, for he divined their meaning, then +began to be audible. Several doors were opened in succession, and +finally his own. A gaoler, with a list in his hand, looked in, merely +saying, “Follow me, Evremonde!” and he followed into a large dark room, +at a distance. It was a dark winter day, and what with the shadows +within, and what with the shadows without, he could but dimly discern +the others who were brought there to have their arms bound. Some were +standing; some seated. Some were lamenting, and in restless motion; +but, these were few. The great majority were silent and still, looking +fixedly at the ground. + +As he stood by the wall in a dim corner, while some of the fifty-two +were brought in after him, one man stopped in passing, to embrace him, +as having a knowledge of him. It thrilled him with a great dread of +discovery; but the man went on. A very few moments after that, a young +woman, with a slight girlish form, a sweet spare face in which there was +no vestige of colour, and large widely opened patient eyes, rose from +the seat where he had observed her sitting, and came to speak to him. + +“Citizen Evremonde,” she said, touching him with her cold hand. “I am a +poor little seamstress, who was with you in La Force.” + +He murmured for answer: “True. I forget what you were accused of?” + +“Plots. Though the just Heaven knows that I am innocent of any. Is it +likely? Who would think of plotting with a poor little weak creature +like me?” + +The forlorn smile with which she said it, so touched him, that tears +started from his eyes. + +“I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evremonde, but I have done nothing. I +am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much good +to us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know how that can be, +Citizen Evremonde. Such a poor weak little creature!” + +As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften to, it +warmed and softened to this pitiable girl. + +“I heard you were released, Citizen Evremonde. I hoped it was true?” + +“It was. But, I was again taken and condemned.” + +“If I may ride with you, Citizen Evremonde, will you let me hold your +hand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will give me +more courage.” + +As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in +them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn young +fingers, and touched his lips. + +“Are you dying for him?” she whispered. + +“And his wife and child. Hush! Yes.” + +“O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?” + +“Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last.” + + ***** + +The same shadows that are falling on the prison, are falling, in that +same hour of the early afternoon, on the Barrier with the crowd about +it, when a coach going out of Paris drives up to be examined. + +“Who goes here? Whom have we within? Papers!” + +The papers are handed out, and read. + +“Alexandre Manette. Physician. French. Which is he?” + +This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmuring, wandering old man +pointed out. + +“Apparently the Citizen-Doctor is not in his right mind? The +Revolution-fever will have been too much for him?” + +Greatly too much for him. + +“Hah! Many suffer with it. Lucie. His daughter. French. Which is she?” + +This is she. + +“Apparently it must be. Lucie, the wife of Evremonde; is it not?” + +It is. + +“Hah! Evremonde has an assignation elsewhere. Lucie, her child. English. +This is she?” + +She and no other. + +“Kiss me, child of Evremonde. Now, thou hast kissed a good Republican; +something new in thy family; remember it! Sydney Carton. Advocate. +English. Which is he?” + +He lies here, in this corner of the carriage. He, too, is pointed out. + +“Apparently the English advocate is in a swoon?” + +It is hoped he will recover in the fresher air. It is represented that +he is not in strong health, and has separated sadly from a friend who is +under the displeasure of the Republic. + +“Is that all? It is not a great deal, that! Many are under the +displeasure of the Republic, and must look out at the little window. +Jarvis Lorry. Banker. English. Which is he?” + +“I am he. Necessarily, being the last.” + +It is Jarvis Lorry who has replied to all the previous questions. It +is Jarvis Lorry who has alighted and stands with his hand on the coach +door, replying to a group of officials. They leisurely walk round the +carriage and leisurely mount the box, to look at what little luggage it +carries on the roof; the country-people hanging about, press nearer to +the coach doors and greedily stare in; a little child, carried by its +mother, has its short arm held out for it, that it may touch the wife of +an aristocrat who has gone to the Guillotine. + +“Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned.” + +“One can depart, citizen?” + +“One can depart. Forward, my postilions! A good journey!” + +“I salute you, citizens.--And the first danger passed!” + +These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps his hands, and +looks upward. There is terror in the carriage, there is weeping, there +is the heavy breathing of the insensible traveller. + +“Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to go faster?” + asks Lucie, clinging to the old man. + +“It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them too much; +it would rouse suspicion.” + +“Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued!” + +“The road is clear, my dearest. So far, we are not pursued.” + +Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms, ruinous buildings, +dye-works, tanneries, and the like, open country, avenues of leafless +trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us, the soft deep mud is on +either side. Sometimes, we strike into the skirting mud, to avoid the +stones that clatter us and shake us; sometimes, we stick in ruts and +sloughs there. The agony of our impatience is then so great, that in our +wild alarm and hurry we are for getting out and running--hiding--doing +anything but stopping. + +Out of the open country, in again among ruinous buildings, solitary +farms, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, cottages in twos and threes, +avenues of leafless trees. Have these men deceived us, and taken us back +by another road? Is not this the same place twice over? Thank Heaven, +no. A village. Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued! Hush! +the posting-house. + +Leisurely, our four horses are taken out; leisurely, the coach stands in +the little street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihood upon it +of ever moving again; leisurely, the new horses come into visible +existence, one by one; leisurely, the new postilions follow, sucking and +plaiting the lashes of their whips; leisurely, the old postilions count +their money, make wrong additions, and arrive at dissatisfied results. +All the time, our overfraught hearts are beating at a rate that would +far outstrip the fastest gallop of the fastest horses ever foaled. + +At length the new postilions are in their saddles, and the old are left +behind. We are through the village, up the hill, and down the hill, and +on the low watery grounds. Suddenly, the postilions exchange speech with +animated gesticulation, and the horses are pulled up, almost on their +haunches. We are pursued? + +“Ho! Within the carriage there. Speak then!” + +“What is it?” asks Mr. Lorry, looking out at window. + +“How many did they say?” + +“I do not understand you.” + +“--At the last post. How many to the Guillotine to-day?” + +“Fifty-two.” + +“I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would have it +forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goes +handsomely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!” + +The night comes on dark. He moves more; he is beginning to revive, and +to speak intelligibly; he thinks they are still together; he asks him, +by his name, what he has in his hand. O pity us, kind Heaven, and help +us! Look out, look out, and see if we are pursued. + +The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and +the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of +us; but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else. + + + + +XIV. The Knitting Done + + +In that same juncture of time when the Fifty-Two awaited their fate +Madame Defarge held darkly ominous council with The Vengeance and +Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Not in the wine-shop did Madame +Defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, +erst a mender of roads. The sawyer himself did not participate in the +conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who +was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited. + +“But our Defarge,” said Jacques Three, “is undoubtedly a good +Republican? Eh?” + +“There is no better,” the voluble Vengeance protested in her shrill +notes, “in France.” + +“Peace, little Vengeance,” said Madame Defarge, laying her hand with +a slight frown on her lieutenant's lips, “hear me speak. My husband, +fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man; he has deserved +well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence. But my husband has +his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctor.” + +“It is a great pity,” croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking his head, +with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; “it is not quite like a good +citizen; it is a thing to regret.” + +“See you,” said madame, “I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He may wear +his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it is all one to +me. But, the Evremonde people are to be exterminated, and the wife and +child must follow the husband and father.” + +“She has a fine head for it,” croaked Jacques Three. “I have seen blue +eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when Samson held +them up.” Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure. + +Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little. + +“The child also,” observed Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment +of his words, “has golden hair and blue eyes. And we seldom have a child +there. It is a pretty sight!” + +“In a word,” said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, +“I cannot trust my husband in this matter. Not only do I feel, since +last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my projects; +but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, +and then they might escape.” + +“That must never be,” croaked Jacques Three; “no one must escape. We +have not half enough as it is. We ought to have six score a day.” + +“In a word,” Madame Defarge went on, “my husband has not my reason for +pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not his reason for +regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act for myself, +therefore. Come hither, little citizen.” + +The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the +submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap. + +“Touching those signals, little citizen,” said Madame Defarge, sternly, +“that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them +this very day?” + +“Ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “Every day, in all weathers, from +two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes +without. I know what I know. I have seen with my eyes.” + +He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidental +imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals that he had +never seen. + +“Clearly plots,” said Jacques Three. “Transparently!” + +“There is no doubt of the Jury?” inquired Madame Defarge, letting her +eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile. + +“Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my +fellow-Jurymen.” + +“Now, let me see,” said Madame Defarge, pondering again. “Yet once more! +Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no feeling either way. Can +I spare him?” + +“He would count as one head,” observed Jacques Three, in a low voice. +“We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, I think.” + +“He was signalling with her when I saw her,” argued Madame Defarge; “I +cannot speak of one without the other; and I must not be silent, and +trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here. For, I am not a +bad witness.” + +The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their fervent +protestations that she was the most admirable and marvellous of +witnesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone, declared her to be a +celestial witness. + +“He must take his chance,” said Madame Defarge. “No, I cannot spare +him! You are engaged at three o'clock; you are going to see the batch of +to-day executed.--You?” + +The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer, who hurriedly replied in +the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was the most ardent +of Republicans, and that he would be in effect the most desolate of +Republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the pleasure of +smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the droll national +barber. He was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have been +suspected (perhaps was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at +him out of Madame Defarge's head) of having his small individual fears +for his own personal safety, every hour in the day. + +“I,” said madame, “am equally engaged at the same place. After it is +over--say at eight to-night--come you to me, in Saint Antoine, and we +will give information against these people at my Section.” + +The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the +citizeness. The citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, evaded +her glance as a small dog would have done, retreated among his wood, and +hid his confusion over the handle of his saw. + +Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance a little nearer to +the door, and there expounded her further views to them thus: + +“She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death. She will +be mourning and grieving. She will be in a state of mind to impeach the +justice of the Republic. She will be full of sympathy with its enemies. +I will go to her.” + +“What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!” exclaimed Jacques +Three, rapturously. “Ah, my cherished!” cried The Vengeance; and +embraced her. + +“Take you my knitting,” said Madame Defarge, placing it in her +lieutenant's hands, “and have it ready for me in my usual seat. Keep +me my usual chair. Go you there, straight, for there will probably be a +greater concourse than usual, to-day.” + +“I willingly obey the orders of my Chief,” said The Vengeance with +alacrity, and kissing her cheek. “You will not be late?” + +“I shall be there before the commencement.” + +“And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, my soul,” said +The Vengeance, calling after her, for she had already turned into the +street, “before the tumbrils arrive!” + +Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard, and +might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and so went through the +mud, and round the corner of the prison wall. The Vengeance and the +Juryman, looking after her as she walked away, were highly appreciative +of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments. + +There were many women at that time, upon whom the time laid a dreadfully +disfiguring hand; but, there was not one among them more to be dreaded +than this ruthless woman, now taking her way along the streets. Of a +strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness, of great +determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to impart +to its possessor firmness and animosity, but to strike into others an +instinctive recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would have +heaved her up, under any circumstances. But, imbued from her childhood +with a brooding sense of wrong, and an inveterate hatred of a class, +opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was absolutely without +pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it had quite gone out of +her. + +It was nothing to her, that an innocent man was to die for the sins of +his forefathers; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that +his wife was to be made a widow and his daughter an orphan; that was +insufficient punishment, because they were her natural enemies and +her prey, and as such had no right to live. To appeal to her, was made +hopeless by her having no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had +been laid low in the streets, in any of the many encounters in which +she had been engaged, she would not have pitied herself; nor, if she had +been ordered to the axe to-morrow, would she have gone to it with any +softer feeling than a fierce desire to change places with the man who +sent her there. + +Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe. Carelessly +worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain weird way, and her +dark hair looked rich under her coarse red cap. Lying hidden in her +bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden at her waist, was a sharpened +dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such +a character, and with the supple freedom of a woman who had habitually +walked in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown +sea-sand, Madame Defarge took her way along the streets. + +Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment +waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night, +the difficulty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry's +attention. It was not merely desirable to avoid overloading the coach, +but it was of the highest importance that the time occupied in examining +it and its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their +escape might depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. +Finally, he had proposed, after anxious consideration, that Miss Pross +and Jerry, who were at liberty to leave the city, should leave it at +three o'clock in the lightest-wheeled conveyance known to that period. +Unencumbered with luggage, they would soon overtake the coach, and, +passing it and preceding it on the road, would order its horses in +advance, and greatly facilitate its progress during the precious hours +of the night, when delay was the most to be dreaded. + +Seeing in this arrangement the hope of rendering real service in that +pressing emergency, Miss Pross hailed it with joy. She and Jerry had +beheld the coach start, had known who it was that Solomon brought, had +passed some ten minutes in tortures of suspense, and were now concluding +their arrangements to follow the coach, even as Madame Defarge, +taking her way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the +else-deserted lodging in which they held their consultation. + +“Now what do you think, Mr. Cruncher,” said Miss Pross, whose agitation +was so great that she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live: +“what do you think of our not starting from this courtyard? Another +carriage having already gone from here to-day, it might awaken +suspicion.” + +“My opinion, miss,” returned Mr. Cruncher, “is as you're right. Likewise +wot I'll stand by you, right or wrong.” + +“I am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures,” said +Miss Pross, wildly crying, “that I am incapable of forming any plan. Are +_you_ capable of forming any plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?” + +“Respectin' a future spear o' life, miss,” returned Mr. Cruncher, “I +hope so. Respectin' any present use o' this here blessed old head o' +mine, I think not. Would you do me the favour, miss, to take notice o' +two promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here +crisis?” + +“Oh, for gracious sake!” cried Miss Pross, still wildly crying, “record +them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent man.” + +“First,” said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with +an ashy and solemn visage, “them poor things well out o' this, never no +more will I do it, never no more!” + +“I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher,” returned Miss Pross, “that you +never will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it +necessary to mention more particularly what it is.” + +“No, miss,” returned Jerry, “it shall not be named to you. Second: them +poor things well out o' this, and never no more will I interfere with +Mrs. Cruncher's flopping, never no more!” + +“Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be,” said Miss Pross, +striving to dry her eyes and compose herself, “I have no doubt it +is best that Mrs. Cruncher should have it entirely under her own +superintendence.--O my poor darlings!” + +“I go so far as to say, miss, moreover,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with a +most alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit--“and let my words +be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher through yourself--that wot my +opinions respectin' flopping has undergone a change, and that wot I only +hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at the present +time.” + +“There, there, there! I hope she is, my dear man,” cried the distracted +Miss Pross, “and I hope she finds it answering her expectations.” + +“Forbid it,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with additional solemnity, +additional slowness, and additional tendency to hold forth and hold +out, “as anything wot I have ever said or done should be wisited on my +earnest wishes for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we shouldn't all +flop (if it was anyways conwenient) to get 'em out o' this here dismal +risk! Forbid it, miss! Wot I say, for-_bid_ it!” This was Mr. Cruncher's +conclusion after a protracted but vain endeavour to find a better one. + +And still Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came +nearer and nearer. + +“If we ever get back to our native land,” said Miss Pross, “you may rely +upon my telling Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remember and +understand of what you have so impressively said; and at all events +you may be sure that I shall bear witness to your being thoroughly in +earnest at this dreadful time. Now, pray let us think! My esteemed Mr. +Cruncher, let us think!” + +Still, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer +and nearer. + +“If you were to go before,” said Miss Pross, “and stop the vehicle and +horses from coming here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn't +that be best?” + +Mr. Cruncher thought it might be best. + +“Where could you wait for me?” asked Miss Pross. + +Mr. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but +Temple Bar. Alas! Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame +Defarge was drawing very near indeed. + +“By the cathedral door,” said Miss Pross. “Would it be much out of +the way, to take me in, near the great cathedral door between the two +towers?” + +“No, miss,” answered Mr. Cruncher. + +“Then, like the best of men,” said Miss Pross, “go to the posting-house +straight, and make that change.” + +“I am doubtful,” said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating and shaking his head, +“about leaving of you, you see. We don't know what may happen.” + +“Heaven knows we don't,” returned Miss Pross, “but have no fear for me. +Take me in at the cathedral, at Three o'Clock, or as near it as you can, +and I am sure it will be better than our going from here. I feel certain +of it. There! Bless you, Mr. Cruncher! Think-not of me, but of the lives +that may depend on both of us!” + +This exordium, and Miss Pross's two hands in quite agonised entreaty +clasping his, decided Mr. Cruncher. With an encouraging nod or two, he +immediately went out to alter the arrangements, and left her by herself +to follow as she had proposed. + +The having originated a precaution which was already in course of +execution, was a great relief to Miss Pross. The necessity of composing +her appearance so that it should attract no special notice in the +streets, was another relief. She looked at her watch, and it was twenty +minutes past two. She had no time to lose, but must get ready at once. + +Afraid, in her extreme perturbation, of the loneliness of the deserted +rooms, and of half-imagined faces peeping from behind every open door +in them, Miss Pross got a basin of cold water and began laving her eyes, +which were swollen and red. Haunted by her feverish apprehensions, she +could not bear to have her sight obscured for a minute at a time by the +dripping water, but constantly paused and looked round to see that there +was no one watching her. In one of those pauses she recoiled and cried +out, for she saw a figure standing in the room. + +The basin fell to the ground broken, and the water flowed to the feet of +Madame Defarge. By strange stern ways, and through much staining blood, +those feet had come to meet that water. + +Madame Defarge looked coldly at her, and said, “The wife of Evremonde; +where is she?” + +It flashed upon Miss Pross's mind that the doors were all standing open, +and would suggest the flight. Her first act was to shut them. There were +four in the room, and she shut them all. She then placed herself before +the door of the chamber which Lucie had occupied. + +Madame Defarge's dark eyes followed her through this rapid movement, +and rested on her when it was finished. Miss Pross had nothing beautiful +about her; years had not tamed the wildness, or softened the grimness, +of her appearance; but, she too was a determined woman in her different +way, and she measured Madame Defarge with her eyes, every inch. + +“You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss +Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of +me. I am an Englishwoman.” + +Madame Defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something of +Miss Pross's own perception that they two were at bay. She saw a tight, +hard, wiry woman before her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in the same figure a +woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by. She knew full well that +Miss Pross was the family's devoted friend; Miss Pross knew full well +that Madame Defarge was the family's malevolent enemy. + +“On my way yonder,” said Madame Defarge, with a slight movement of +her hand towards the fatal spot, “where they reserve my chair and my +knitting for me, I am come to make my compliments to her in passing. I +wish to see her.” + +“I know that your intentions are evil,” said Miss Pross, “and you may +depend upon it, I'll hold my own against them.” + +Each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other's words; +both were very watchful, and intent to deduce from look and manner, what +the unintelligible words meant. + +“It will do her no good to keep herself concealed from me at this +moment,” said Madame Defarge. “Good patriots will know what that means. +Let me see her. Go tell her that I wish to see her. Do you hear?” + +“If those eyes of yours were bed-winches,” returned Miss Pross, “and I +was an English four-poster, they shouldn't loose a splinter of me. No, +you wicked foreign woman; I am your match.” + +Madame Defarge was not likely to follow these idiomatic remarks in +detail; but, she so far understood them as to perceive that she was set +at naught. + +“Woman imbecile and pig-like!” said Madame Defarge, frowning. “I take no +answer from you. I demand to see her. Either tell her that I demand +to see her, or stand out of the way of the door and let me go to her!” + This, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm. + +“I little thought,” said Miss Pross, “that I should ever want to +understand your nonsensical language; but I would give all I have, +except the clothes I wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any +part of it.” + +Neither of them for a single moment released the other's eyes. Madame +Defarge had not moved from the spot where she stood when Miss Pross +first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step. + +“I am a Briton,” said Miss Pross, “I am desperate. I don't care an +English Twopence for myself. I know that the longer I keep you here, the +greater hope there is for my Ladybird. I'll not leave a handful of that +dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger on me!” + +Thus Miss Pross, with a shake of her head and a flash of her eyes +between every rapid sentence, and every rapid sentence a whole breath. +Thus Miss Pross, who had never struck a blow in her life. + +But, her courage was of that emotional nature that it brought the +irrepressible tears into her eyes. This was a courage that Madame +Defarge so little comprehended as to mistake for weakness. “Ha, ha!” she +laughed, “you poor wretch! What are you worth! I address myself to that +Doctor.” Then she raised her voice and called out, “Citizen Doctor! Wife +of Evremonde! Child of Evremonde! Any person but this miserable fool, +answer the Citizeness Defarge!” + +Perhaps the following silence, perhaps some latent disclosure in the +expression of Miss Pross's face, perhaps a sudden misgiving apart from +either suggestion, whispered to Madame Defarge that they were gone. +Three of the doors she opened swiftly, and looked in. + +“Those rooms are all in disorder, there has been hurried packing, there +are odds and ends upon the ground. There is no one in that room behind +you! Let me look.” + +“Never!” said Miss Pross, who understood the request as perfectly as +Madame Defarge understood the answer. + +“If they are not in that room, they are gone, and can be pursued and +brought back,” said Madame Defarge to herself. + +“As long as you don't know whether they are in that room or not, you are +uncertain what to do,” said Miss Pross to herself; “and you shall not +know that, if I can prevent your knowing it; and know that, or not know +that, you shall not leave here while I can hold you.” + +“I have been in the streets from the first, nothing has stopped me, +I will tear you to pieces, but I will have you from that door,” said +Madame Defarge. + +“We are alone at the top of a high house in a solitary courtyard, we are +not likely to be heard, and I pray for bodily strength to keep you here, +while every minute you are here is worth a hundred thousand guineas to +my darling,” said Miss Pross. + +Madame Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross, on the instinct of the +moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and held her tight. +It was in vain for Madame Defarge to struggle and to strike; Miss Pross, +with the vigorous tenacity of love, always so much stronger than hate, +clasped her tight, and even lifted her from the floor in the struggle +that they had. The two hands of Madame Defarge buffeted and tore her +face; but, Miss Pross, with her head down, held her round the waist, and +clung to her with more than the hold of a drowning woman. + +Soon, Madame Defarge's hands ceased to strike, and felt at her encircled +waist. “It is under my arm,” said Miss Pross, in smothered tones, “you +shall not draw it. I am stronger than you, I bless Heaven for it. I hold +you till one or other of us faints or dies!” + +Madame Defarge's hands were at her bosom. Miss Pross looked up, saw +what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and stood +alone--blinded with smoke. + +All this was in a second. As the smoke cleared, leaving an awful +stillness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious woman +whose body lay lifeless on the ground. + +In the first fright and horror of her situation, Miss Pross passed the +body as far from it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for +fruitless help. Happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of +what she did, in time to check herself and go back. It was dreadful to +go in at the door again; but, she did go in, and even went near it, to +get the bonnet and other things that she must wear. These she put on, +out on the staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking +away the key. She then sat down on the stairs a few moments to breathe +and to cry, and then got up and hurried away. + +By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have +gone along the streets without being stopped. By good fortune, too, she +was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to show disfigurement +like any other woman. She needed both advantages, for the marks of +gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her +dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a +hundred ways. + +In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. Arriving +at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there, +she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, what if +it were identified, what if the door were opened and the remains +discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and +charged with murder! In the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the +escort appeared, took her in, and took her away. + +“Is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him. + +“The usual noises,” Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the +question and by her aspect. + +“I don't hear you,” said Miss Pross. “What do you say?” + +It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss Pross could +not hear him. “So I'll nod my head,” thought Mr. Cruncher, amazed, “at +all events she'll see that.” And she did. + +“Is there any noise in the streets now?” asked Miss Pross again, +presently. + +Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head. + +“I don't hear it.” + +“Gone deaf in an hour?” said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind +much disturbed; “wot's come to her?” + +“I feel,” said Miss Pross, “as if there had been a flash and a crash, +and that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in this life.” + +“Blest if she ain't in a queer condition!” said Mr. Cruncher, more and +more disturbed. “Wot can she have been a takin', to keep her courage up? +Hark! There's the roll of them dreadful carts! You can hear that, miss?” + +“I can hear,” said Miss Pross, seeing that he spoke to her, “nothing. O, +my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness, +and that stillness seems to be fixed and unchangeable, never to be +broken any more as long as my life lasts.” + +“If she don't hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their +journey's end,” said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, “it's my +opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world.” + +And indeed she never did. + + + + +XV. The Footsteps Die Out For Ever + + +Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six +tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and +insatiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, +are fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in +France, with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, +a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under +conditions more certain than those that have produced this horror. Crush +humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will +twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of +rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield +the same fruit according to its kind. + +Six tumbrils roll along the streets. Change these back again to what +they were, thou powerful enchanter, Time, and they shall be seen to be +the carriages of absolute monarchs, the equipages of feudal nobles, the +toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father's +house but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants! +No; the great magician who majestically works out the appointed order +of the Creator, never reverses his transformations. “If thou be changed +into this shape by the will of God,” say the seers to the enchanted, in +the wise Arabian stories, “then remain so! But, if thou wear this +form through mere passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!” + Changeless and hopeless, the tumbrils roll along. + +As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough up +a long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of faces +are thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward. +So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle, that +in many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation of the +hands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the faces in +the tumbrils. Here and there, the inmate has visitors to see the sight; +then he points his finger, with something of the complacency of a +curator or authorised exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to +tell who sat here yesterday, and who there the day before. + +Of the riders in the tumbrils, some observe these things, and all +things on their last roadside, with an impassive stare; others, with +a lingering interest in the ways of life and men. Some, seated with +drooping heads, are sunk in silent despair; again, there are some so +heedful of their looks that they cast upon the multitude such glances as +they have seen in theatres, and in pictures. Several close their eyes, +and think, or try to get their straying thoughts together. Only one, and +he a miserable creature, of a crazed aspect, is so shattered and made +drunk by horror, that he sings, and tries to dance. Not one of the whole +number appeals by look or gesture, to the pity of the people. + +There is a guard of sundry horsemen riding abreast of the tumbrils, +and faces are often turned up to some of them, and they are asked some +question. It would seem to be always the same question, for, it is +always followed by a press of people towards the third cart. The +horsemen abreast of that cart, frequently point out one man in it with +their swords. The leading curiosity is, to know which is he; he stands +at the back of the tumbril with his head bent down, to converse with a +mere girl who sits on the side of the cart, and holds his hand. He has +no curiosity or care for the scene about him, and always speaks to the +girl. Here and there in the long street of St. Honore, cries are raised +against him. If they move him at all, it is only to a quiet smile, as he +shakes his hair a little more loosely about his face. He cannot easily +touch his face, his arms being bound. + +On the steps of a church, awaiting the coming-up of the tumbrils, stands +the Spy and prison-sheep. He looks into the first of them: not there. +He looks into the second: not there. He already asks himself, “Has he +sacrificed me?” when his face clears, as he looks into the third. + +“Which is Evremonde?” says a man behind him. + +“That. At the back there.” + +“With his hand in the girl's?” + +“Yes.” + +The man cries, “Down, Evremonde! To the Guillotine all aristocrats! +Down, Evremonde!” + +“Hush, hush!” the Spy entreats him, timidly. + +“And why not, citizen?” + +“He is going to pay the forfeit: it will be paid in five minutes more. +Let him be at peace.” + +But the man continuing to exclaim, “Down, Evremonde!” the face of +Evremonde is for a moment turned towards him. Evremonde then sees the +Spy, and looks attentively at him, and goes his way. + +The clocks are on the stroke of three, and the furrow ploughed among the +populace is turning round, to come on into the place of execution, and +end. The ridges thrown to this side and to that, now crumble in and +close behind the last plough as it passes on, for all are following +to the Guillotine. In front of it, seated in chairs, as in a garden of +public diversion, are a number of women, busily knitting. On one of the +fore-most chairs, stands The Vengeance, looking about for her friend. + +“Therese!” she cries, in her shrill tones. “Who has seen her? Therese +Defarge!” + +“She never missed before,” says a knitting-woman of the sisterhood. + +“No; nor will she miss now,” cries The Vengeance, petulantly. “Therese.” + +“Louder,” the woman recommends. + +Ay! Louder, Vengeance, much louder, and still she will scarcely hear +thee. Louder yet, Vengeance, with a little oath or so added, and yet +it will hardly bring her. Send other women up and down to seek her, +lingering somewhere; and yet, although the messengers have done dread +deeds, it is questionable whether of their own wills they will go far +enough to find her! + +“Bad Fortune!” cries The Vengeance, stamping her foot in the chair, “and +here are the tumbrils! And Evremonde will be despatched in a wink, and +she not here! See her knitting in my hand, and her empty chair ready for +her. I cry with vexation and disappointment!” + +As The Vengeance descends from her elevation to do it, the tumbrils +begin to discharge their loads. The ministers of Sainte Guillotine are +robed and ready. Crash!--A head is held up, and the knitting-women who +scarcely lifted their eyes to look at it a moment ago when it could +think and speak, count One. + +The second tumbril empties and moves on; the third comes up. Crash!--And +the knitting-women, never faltering or pausing in their Work, count Two. + +The supposed Evremonde descends, and the seamstress is lifted out next +after him. He has not relinquished her patient hand in getting out, but +still holds it as he promised. He gently places her with her back to the +crashing engine that constantly whirrs up and falls, and she looks into +his face and thanks him. + +“But for you, dear stranger, I should not be so composed, for I am +naturally a poor little thing, faint of heart; nor should I have been +able to raise my thoughts to Him who was put to death, that we might +have hope and comfort here to-day. I think you were sent to me by +Heaven.” + +“Or you to me,” says Sydney Carton. “Keep your eyes upon me, dear child, +and mind no other object.” + +“I mind nothing while I hold your hand. I shall mind nothing when I let +it go, if they are rapid.” + +“They will be rapid. Fear not!” + +The two stand in the fast-thinning throng of victims, but they speak as +if they were alone. Eye to eye, voice to voice, hand to hand, heart to +heart, these two children of the Universal Mother, else so wide apart +and differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair home +together, and to rest in her bosom. + +“Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? I +am very ignorant, and it troubles me--just a little.” + +“Tell me what it is.” + +“I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I +love very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in a +farmer's house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she knows +nothing of my fate--for I cannot write--and if I could, how should I +tell her! It is better as it is.” + +“Yes, yes: better as it is.” + +“What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still +thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so +much support, is this:--If the Republic really does good to the poor, +and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may +live a long time: she may even live to be old.” + +“What then, my gentle sister?” + +“Do you think:” the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much +endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: +“that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land +where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?” + +“It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble there.” + +“You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now? Is the +moment come?” + +“Yes.” + +She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. +The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than +a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before +him--is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two. + +“I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth +in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and +believeth in me shall never die.” + +The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing +on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells +forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. +Twenty-Three. + + ***** + +They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the +peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked +sublime and prophetic. + +One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe--a woman--had asked +at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to +write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given any +utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these: + +“I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, +long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of +the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease +out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people +rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in +their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil +of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural +birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. + +“I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, +prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see +Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, +aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his +healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their +friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing +tranquilly to his reward. + +“I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of +their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping +for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their +course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know +that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, +than I was in the souls of both. + +“I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man +winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him +winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the +light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, +fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, +with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place--then fair to +look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement--and I hear him +tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice. + +“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a +far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF TWO CITIES *** + +***** This file should be named 98-0.txt or 98-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/98/ + +Produced by Judith Boss + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pride and Prejudice + +Author: Jane Austen + +Posting Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1342] +Release Date: June, 1998 +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE *** + + + + +Produced by Anonymous Volunteers + + + + + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE + +By Jane Austen + + + +Chapter 1 + + +It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession +of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. + +However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his +first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds +of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property +of some one or other of their daughters. + +“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that +Netherfield Park is let at last?” + +Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. + +“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she +told me all about it.” + +Mr. Bennet made no answer. + +“Do you not want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently. + +“_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.” + +This was invitation enough. + +“Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken +by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came +down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much +delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he +is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to +be in the house by the end of next week.” + +“What is his name?” + +“Bingley.” + +“Is he married or single?” + +“Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or +five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!” + +“How so? How can it affect them?” + +“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome! You +must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.” + +“Is that his design in settling here?” + +“Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he +_may_ fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as +soon as he comes.” + +“I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send +them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are +as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the +party.” + +“My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty, but +I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five +grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.” + +“In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.” + +“But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into +the neighbourhood.” + +“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.” + +“But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would +be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to +go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no +newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to +visit him if you do not.” + +“You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very +glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my +hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though +I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.” + +“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the +others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so +good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the preference.” + +“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he; “they are +all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of +quickness than her sisters.” + +“Mr. Bennet, how _can_ you abuse your own children in such a way? You +take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves.” + +“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They +are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration +these last twenty years at least.” + +“Ah, you do not know what I suffer.” + +“But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four +thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.” + +“It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not +visit them.” + +“Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them +all.” + +Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, +reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had +been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind +was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, +little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, +she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her +daughters married; its solace was visiting and news. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He +had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring +his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was +paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following +manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he +suddenly addressed her with: + +“I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.” + +“We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes,” said her mother +resentfully, “since we are not to visit.” + +“But you forget, mamma,” said Elizabeth, “that we shall meet him at the +assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him.” + +“I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces +of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion +of her.” + +“No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and I am glad to find that you do +not depend on her serving you.” + +Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain +herself, began scolding one of her daughters. + +“Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little +compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.” + +“Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she times +them ill.” + +“I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty fretfully. “When is +your next ball to be, Lizzy?” + +“To-morrow fortnight.” + +“Aye, so it is,” cried her mother, “and Mrs. Long does not come back +till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, +for she will not know him herself.” + +“Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce +Mr. Bingley to _her_.” + +“Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him +myself; how can you be so teasing?” + +“I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly +very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a +fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture somebody else will; and after all, +Mrs. Long and her neices must stand their chance; and, therefore, as +she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will +take it on myself.” + +The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, “Nonsense, +nonsense!” + +“What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?” cried he. “Do +you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on +them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you _there_. What say you, +Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read +great books and make extracts.” + +Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how. + +“While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” he continued, “let us return to Mr. +Bingley.” + +“I am sick of Mr. Bingley,” cried his wife. + +“I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me that before? If +I had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called +on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we +cannot escape the acquaintance now.” + +The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs. +Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy +was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the +while. + +“How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should +persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to +neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a +good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a +word about it till now.” + +“Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose,” said Mr. Bennet; and, +as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife. + +“What an excellent father you have, girls!” said she, when the door was +shut. “I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; +or me, either, for that matter. At our time of life it is not so +pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every day; but +for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_ +the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next +ball.” + +“Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the +youngest, I'm the tallest.” + +The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would +return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to +dinner. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five +daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her +husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him +in various ways--with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and +distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at +last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, +Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been +delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely +agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly +with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of +dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively +hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained. + +“If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,” + said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the others equally well +married, I shall have nothing to wish for.” + +In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about +ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being +admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had +heard much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more +fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper +window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse. + +An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already +had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her +housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley +was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable +to accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite +disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town +so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that +he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never +settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears +a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get +a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley +was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. +The girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the +day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only +six with him from London--his five sisters and a cousin. And when +the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five +altogether--Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and +another young man. + +Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant +countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, +with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely +looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention +of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and +the report which was in general circulation within five minutes +after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen +pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he +was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great +admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust +which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be +proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all +his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most +forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared +with his friend. + +Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal +people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, +was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving +one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for +themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced +only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being +introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in +walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. +His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man +in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again. +Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of +his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his +having slighted one of her daughters. + +Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit +down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been +standing near enough for her to hear a conversation between him and Mr. +Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend +to join it. + +“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you +standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better +dance.” + +“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am +particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this +it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not +another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to +stand up with.” + +“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Mr. Bingley, “for a +kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in +my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see +uncommonly pretty.” + +“_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. +Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. + +“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one +of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I +dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.” + +“Which do you mean?” and turning round he looked for a moment at +Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: +“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; I am in no +humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted +by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her +smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.” + +Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth +remained with no very cordial feelings toward him. She told the story, +however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, +playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous. + +The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. +Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield +party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been +distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as +her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's +pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most +accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been +fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that they +had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore, in good +spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they +were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With +a book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a +good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised +such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's views on +the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a +different story to hear. + +“Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet,” as she entered the room, “we have had a most +delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. +Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well +she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with +her twice! Only think of _that_, my dear; he actually danced with her +twice! and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second +time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand +up with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody +can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going +down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and +asked her for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, +and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, +and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the _Boulanger_--” + +“If he had had any compassion for _me_,” cried her husband impatiently, +“he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of +his partners. Oh that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!” + +“Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively +handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw +anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. +Hurst's gown--” + +Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any +description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch +of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some +exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy. + +“But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does not lose much by not +suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at +all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring +him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very +great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my +dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.” + + + +Chapter 4 + + +When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in +her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very +much she admired him. + +“He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she, “sensible, +good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!--so much +ease, with such perfect good breeding!” + +“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth, “which a young man ought +likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.” + +“I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I +did not expect such a compliment.” + +“Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between +us. Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_ never. What +could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help +seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman +in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is +very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a +stupider person.” + +“Dear Lizzy!” + +“Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. +You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable +in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in your +life.” + +“I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak +what I think.” + +“I know you do; and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With _your_ +good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of +others! Affectation of candour is common enough--one meets with it +everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design--to take the +good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing +of the bad--belongs to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters, +too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his.” + +“Certainly not--at first. But they are very pleasing women when you +converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep +his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming +neighbour in her.” + +Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at +the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more +quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, +and with a judgement too unassailed by any attention to herself, she +was very little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine +ladies; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the +power of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud and +conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the +first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand +pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of +associating with people of rank, and were therefore in every respect +entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of +a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply +impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their +own had been acquired by trade. + +Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred +thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an +estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and +sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a +good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those +who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the +remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to +purchase. + +His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but, +though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no +means unwilling to preside at his table--nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had +married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider +his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of +age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation +to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for +half-an-hour--was pleased with the situation and the principal +rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it +immediately. + +Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of +great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the +easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition +could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he +never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley +had the firmest reliance, and of his judgement the highest opinion. +In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means +deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, +reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not +inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley +was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually +giving offense. + +The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently +characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or +prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive +to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt +acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not +conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a +collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for +none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received +either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, +but she smiled too much. + +Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so--but still they admired +her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one +whom they would not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore +established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by such +commendation to think of her as he chose. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets +were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade +in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the +honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. +The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a +disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town; +and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house +about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, +where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, +unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all +the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him +supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By +nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. +James's had made him courteous. + +Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a +valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest +of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was +Elizabeth's intimate friend. + +That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over +a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly +brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate. + +“_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet with civil +self-command to Miss Lucas. “_You_ were Mr. Bingley's first choice.” + +“Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.” + +“Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be +sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed I rather believe he +_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something +about Mr. Robinson.” + +“Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not +I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton +assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many +pretty women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his +answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet, +beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'” + +“Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed--that does seem as +if--but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.” + +“_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza,” said +Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, +is he?--poor Eliza!--to be only just _tolerable_.” + +“I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his +ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite +a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he +sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips.” + +“Are you quite sure, ma'am?--is not there a little mistake?” said Jane. +“I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.” + +“Aye--because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he +could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at +being spoke to.” + +“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much, +unless among his intimate acquaintances. With _them_ he is remarkably +agreeable.” + +“I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very +agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it +was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had +heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to +the ball in a hack chaise.” + +“I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas, “but I +wish he had danced with Eliza.” + +“Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother, “I would not dance with _him_, +if I were you.” + +“I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him.” + +“His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend _me_ so much as pride +often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so +very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, +should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_ +to be proud.” + +“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive +_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_.” + +“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her +reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have +ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human +nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us +who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some +quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different +things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may +be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of +ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.” + +“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with +his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of +foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day.” + +“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said Mrs. +Bennet; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle +directly.” + +The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she +would, and the argument ended only with the visit. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit +was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on +the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was +found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, +a wish of being better acquainted with _them_ was expressed towards +the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest +pleasure, but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment +of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; +though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in +all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It +was generally evident whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her and +to _her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference +which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a +way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it +was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane +united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a +uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions +of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas. + +“It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied Charlotte, “to be able to impose +on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be +so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill +from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and +it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in +the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every +attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all +_begin_ freely--a slight preference is natural enough; but there are +very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without +encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a women had better show _more_ +affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he +may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.” + +“But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can +perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to +discover it too.” + +“Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do.” + +“But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal +it, he must find it out.” + +“Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane +meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they +always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that +every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should +therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his +attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for +falling in love as much as she chooses.” + +“Your plan is a good one,” replied Elizabeth, “where nothing is in +question but the desire of being well married, and if I were determined +to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But +these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, +she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its +reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four +dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, +and has since dined with him in company four times. This is not quite +enough to make her understand his character.” + +“Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might +only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must +remember that four evenings have also been spent together--and four +evenings may do a great deal.” + +“Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they +both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other +leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded.” + +“Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane success with all my heart; and +if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a +chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a +twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If +the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or +ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the +least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to +have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as +possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your +life.” + +“You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not +sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.” + +Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth +was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some +interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely +allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the +ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no +sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly +had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered +uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To +this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had +detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry +in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and +pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those +of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of +this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made +himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough +to dance with. + +He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing +with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so +drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were +assembled. + +“What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she to Charlotte, “by listening to my +conversation with Colonel Forster?” + +“That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer.” + +“But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see +what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by +being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.” + +On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have +any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such +a subject to him; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she +turned to him and said: + +“Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly +well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at +Meryton?” + +“With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady +energetic.” + +“You are severe on us.” + +“It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased,” said Miss Lucas. “I am going +to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.” + +“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me +to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken +a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would +really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of +hearing the very best performers.” On Miss Lucas's persevering, however, +she added, “Very well, if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing +at Mr. Darcy, “There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of +course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge'; and I +shall keep mine to swell my song.” + +Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song +or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that +she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her +sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in +the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always +impatient for display. + +Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her +application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited +manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she +had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with +much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the +end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by +Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, +with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in +dancing at one end of the room. + +Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of +passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too +much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was +his neighbour, till Sir William thus began: + +“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There +is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first +refinements of polished society.” + +“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst +the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.” + +Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he +continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; “and I doubt +not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.” + +“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir.” + +“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do +you often dance at St. James's?” + +“Never, sir.” + +“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?” + +“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.” + +“You have a house in town, I conclude?” + +Mr. Darcy bowed. + +“I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself--for I am fond +of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of +London would agree with Lady Lucas.” + +He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed +to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was +struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to +her: + +“My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow +me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You +cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you.” + And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though +extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly +drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William: + +“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you +not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.” + +Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of +her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at +all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion. + +“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny +me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the +amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us +for one half-hour.” + +“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling. + +“He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, +we cannot wonder at his complaisance--for who would object to such a +partner?” + +Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not +injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some +complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley: + +“I can guess the subject of your reverie.” + +“I should imagine not.” + +“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings +in this manner--in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. +I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise--the +nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would +I give to hear your strictures on them!” + +“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more +agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure +which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.” + +Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he +would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. +Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity: + +“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” + +“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. +How long has she been such a favourite?--and pray, when am I to wish you +joy?” + +“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's +imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love +to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.” + +“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is +absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed; +and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you.” + +He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to +entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her +that all was safe, her wit flowed long. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Mr. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two +thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, +in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's +fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply +the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and +had left her four thousand pounds. + +She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to +their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in +London in a respectable line of trade. + +The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most +convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted +thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and +to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, +Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; +their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing +better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning +hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news +the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some +from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with +news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the +neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the +headquarters. + +Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most +interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge +of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a +secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. +Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of +felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and +Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation +to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the +regimentals of an ensign. + +After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. +Bennet coolly observed: + +“From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two +of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but +I am now convinced.” + +Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect +indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, +and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the +next morning to London. + +“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so +ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly +of anybody's children, it should not be of my own, however.” + +“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.” + +“Yes--but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.” + +“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I +had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must +so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly +foolish.” + +“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of +their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will +not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when +I liked a red coat myself very well--and, indeed, so I do still at my +heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, +should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought +Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in +his regimentals.” + +“Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain +Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first +came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library.” + +Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with +a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited +for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was +eagerly calling out, while her daughter read, + +“Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, +Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.” + +“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud. + +“MY DEAR FRIEND,-- + +“If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, +we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, +for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a +quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the +gentlemen are to dine with the officers.--Yours ever, + +“CAROLINE BINGLEY” + +“With the officers!” cried Lydia. “I wonder my aunt did not tell us of +_that_.” + +“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that is very unlucky.” + +“Can I have the carriage?” said Jane. + +“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to +rain; and then you must stay all night.” + +“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that +they would not offer to send her home.” + +“Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton, +and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.” + +“I had much rather go in the coach.” + +“But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are +wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?” + +“They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.” + +“But if you have got them to-day,” said Elizabeth, “my mother's purpose +will be answered.” + +She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses +were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her +mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a +bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before +it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was +delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; +Jane certainly could not come back. + +“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more than +once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the +next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her +contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield +brought the following note for Elizabeth: + +“MY DEAREST LIZZY,-- + +“I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be +imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not +hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. +Jones--therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been +to me--and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the +matter with me.--Yours, etc.” + +“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note +aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness--if she +should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of +Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.” + +“Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling +colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is +all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage.” + +Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though +the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking +was her only alternative. She declared her resolution. + +“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a +thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get +there.” + +“I shall be very fit to see Jane--which is all I want.” + +“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the +horses?” + +“No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing +when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.” + +“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every +impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, +exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.” + +“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia. +Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off +together. + +“If we make haste,” said Lydia, as they walked along, “perhaps we may +see something of Captain Carter before he goes.” + +In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one +of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing +field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing +over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last +within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face +glowing with the warmth of exercise. + +She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were +assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. +That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such +dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and +Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt +for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their +brother's manners there was something better than politeness; there +was good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. +Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the +brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as +to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was +thinking only of his breakfast. + +Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss +Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not +well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her +immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving +alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed +for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, +however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them +together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the +extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended +her. + +When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth +began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and +solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came, and having +examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught +a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; +advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice +was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head +ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were +the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in +fact, nothing to do elsewhere. + +When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very +unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only +wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern +in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer +of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. +Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to +Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply +of clothes. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six +Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then +poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the +much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very +favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing +this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how +shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked +being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their +indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them restored +Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former dislike. + +Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could +regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his +attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling +herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the +others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was +engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. +Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to +eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain +dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her. + +When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley +began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were +pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; +she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the +same, and added: + +“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent +walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really +looked almost wild.” + +“She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very +nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering about the +country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!” + +“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep +in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to +hide it not doing its office.” + +“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; “but this was +all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably +well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite +escaped my notice.” + +“_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley; “and I am +inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your_ sister make such +an exhibition.” + +“Certainly not.” + +“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, +above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by +it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, +a most country-town indifference to decorum.” + +“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said +Bingley. + +“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that +this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.” + +“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.” A +short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again: + +“I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very +sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with +such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is +no chance of it.” + +“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in +Meryton.” + +“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.” + +“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily. + +“If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it +would not make them one jot less agreeable.” + +“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any +consideration in the world,” replied Darcy. + +To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their +hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of +their dear friend's vulgar relations. + +With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on +leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee. +She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till +late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and +when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go +downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole +party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting +them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the +excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay +below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment. + +“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.” + +“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great +reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.” + +“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Elizabeth; “I am +_not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.” + +“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Bingley; “and +I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well.” + +Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the +table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her +others--all that his library afforded. + +“And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own +credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more +than I ever looked into.” + +Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those +in the room. + +“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left +so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at +Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!” + +“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it has been the work of many +generations.” + +“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying +books.” + +“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as +these.” + +“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of +that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be +half as delightful as Pemberley.” + +“I wish it may.” + +“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that +neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a +finer county in England than Derbyshire.” + +“With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it.” + +“I am talking of possibilities, Charles.” + +“Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get +Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.” + +Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very +little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew +near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his +eldest sister, to observe the game. + +“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” said Miss Bingley; “will +she be as tall as I am?” + +“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or +rather taller.” + +“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me +so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished +for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.” + +“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience +to be so very accomplished as they all are.” + +“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?” + +“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and +net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure +I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being +informed that she was very accomplished.” + +“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has +too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no +otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very +far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I +cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my +acquaintance, that are really accomplished.” + +“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley. + +“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your +idea of an accomplished woman.” + +“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.” + +“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really +esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met +with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, +dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides +all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of +walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word +will be but half-deserved.” + +“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must +yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by +extensive reading.” + +“I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women. +I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_.” + +“Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all +this?” + +“I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and +application, and elegance, as you describe united.” + +Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her +implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who +answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with +bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all +conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the +room. + +“Elizabeth Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, +“is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the +other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it +succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.” + +“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, +“there is a meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend +to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is +despicable.” + +Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to +continue the subject. + +Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and +that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones being sent for +immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could +be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most +eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so +unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled +that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet +were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters +declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, +however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief +to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every +attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the +morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the +inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, +and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his +sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a +note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her +own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and +its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her +two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast. + +Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been +very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was +not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her +restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She +would not listen, therefore, to her daughter's proposal of being carried +home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think +it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss +Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all +attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes +that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected. + +“Indeed I have, sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be +moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass +a little longer on your kindness.” + +“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am +sure, will not hear of her removal.” + +“You may depend upon it, Madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, +“that Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she +remains with us.” + +Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments. + +“I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends I do not +know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers +a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is +always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest +temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are +nothing to _her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a +charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the +country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it +in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease.” + +“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied he; “and therefore if I +should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five +minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.” + +“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Elizabeth. + +“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning towards her. + +“Oh! yes--I understand you perfectly.” + +“I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen +through I am afraid is pitiful.” + +“That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate +character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.” + +“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in +the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.” + +“I did not know before,” continued Bingley immediately, “that you were a +studier of character. It must be an amusing study.” + +“Yes, but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at +least that advantage.” + +“The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but a few subjects for +such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and +unvarying society.” + +“But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be +observed in them for ever.” + +“Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning +a country neighbourhood. “I assure you there is quite as much of _that_ +going on in the country as in town.” + +Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, +turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete +victory over him, continued her triumph. + +“I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for +my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal +pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?” + +“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; +and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their +advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.” + +“Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that +gentleman,” looking at Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing +at all.” + +“Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken,” said Elizabeth, blushing for her +mother. “You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not +such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, +which you must acknowledge to be true.” + +“Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting +with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few +neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families.” + +Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his +countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards +Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of +saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if +Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away. + +“Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir +William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So +genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody. _That_ +is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very +important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.” + +“Did Charlotte dine with you?” + +“No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For +my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; +_my_ daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to +judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, +I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think +Charlotte so _very_ plain--but then she is our particular friend.” + +“She seems a very pleasant young woman.” + +“Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself +has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast +of my own child, but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see anybody +better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own +partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother +Gardiner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was +sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he +did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses +on her, and very pretty they were.” + +“And so ended his affection,” said Elizabeth impatiently. “There has +been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first +discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!” + +“I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love,” said Darcy. + +“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is +strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I +am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.” + +Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth +tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to +speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs. +Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to +Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was +unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be +civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part +indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and +soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of +her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to +each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the +youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming +into the country to give a ball at Netherfield. + +Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion +and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose +affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high +animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the +attention of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners, and her own +easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very +equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and +abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most +shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this +sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear: + +“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when +your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of +the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill.” + +Lydia declared herself satisfied. “Oh! yes--it would be much better to +wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter +would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball,” she +added, “I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel +Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.” + +Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned +instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the +remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, +could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of +all Miss Bingley's witticisms on _fine eyes_. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss +Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who +continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined +their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not appear. +Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching +the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by +messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and +Mrs. Hurst was observing their game. + +Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in +attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual +commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness +of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern +with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was +exactly in union with her opinion of each. + +“How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!” + +He made no answer. + +“You write uncommonly fast.” + +“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.” + +“How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a +year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!” + +“It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours.” + +“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.” + +“I have already told her so once, by your desire.” + +“I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend +pens remarkably well.” + +“Thank you--but I always mend my own.” + +“How can you contrive to write so even?” + +He was silent. + +“Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp; +and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful +little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss +Grantley's.” + +“Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At +present I have not room to do them justice.” + +“Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you +always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?” + +“They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me +to determine.” + +“It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with +ease, cannot write ill.” + +“That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline,” cried her +brother, “because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for +words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?” + +“My style of writing is very different from yours.” + +“Oh!” cried Miss Bingley, “Charles writes in the most careless way +imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest.” + +“My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which +means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.” + +“Your humility, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, “must disarm reproof.” + +“Nothing is more deceitful,” said Darcy, “than the appearance of +humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an +indirect boast.” + +“And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?” + +“The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in +writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of +thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you +think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with +quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any +attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. +Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield +you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of +panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very +laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business +undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?” + +“Nay,” cried Bingley, “this is too much, to remember at night all the +foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, +I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this +moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless +precipitance merely to show off before the ladies.” + +“I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that +you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as +dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were +mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better +stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not +go--and at another word, might stay a month.” + +“You have only proved by this,” cried Elizabeth, “that Mr. Bingley did +not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much +more than he did himself.” + +“I am exceedingly gratified,” said Bingley, “by your converting what my +friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am +afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means +intend; for he would certainly think better of me, if under such a +circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I +could.” + +“Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentions +as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?” + +“Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for +himself.” + +“You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, +but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to +stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, +that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and +the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering +one argument in favour of its propriety.” + +“To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit +with you.” + +“To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of +either.” + +“You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of +friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make +one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason +one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have +supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the +circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour +thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, +where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no +very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying +with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?” + +“Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to +arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to +appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting +between the parties?” + +“By all means,” cried Bingley; “let us hear all the particulars, not +forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more +weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure +you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with +myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not +know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in +particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, +when he has nothing to do.” + +Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was +rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly +resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her +brother for talking such nonsense. + +“I see your design, Bingley,” said his friend. “You dislike an argument, +and want to silence this.” + +“Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss +Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very +thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me.” + +“What you ask,” said Elizabeth, “is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. +Darcy had much better finish his letter.” + +Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter. + +When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth +for an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity +to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead +the way which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she +seated herself. + +Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, +Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books +that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed +on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of +admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her +because he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine, +however, at last that she drew his notice because there was something +more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in +any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked +him too little to care for his approbation. + +After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by +a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near +Elizabeth, said to her: + +“Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an +opportunity of dancing a reel?” + +She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some +surprise at her silence. + +“Oh!” said she, “I heard you before, but I could not immediately +determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,' +that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always +delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of +their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell +you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if +you dare.” + +“Indeed I do not dare.” + +Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his +gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her +manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy +had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really +believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he +should be in some danger. + +Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great +anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received some +assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth. + +She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of +their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance. + +“I hope,” said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery +the next day, “you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this +desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; +and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after +officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to +check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, +which your lady possesses.” + +“Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?” + +“Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Phillips be placed +in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the +judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different +lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not have it taken, for +what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?” + +“It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their +colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be +copied.” + +At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and +Elizabeth herself. + +“I did not know that you intended to walk,” said Miss Bingley, in some +confusion, lest they had been overheard. + +“You used us abominably ill,” answered Mrs. Hurst, “running away without +telling us that you were coming out.” + +Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk +by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness, +and immediately said: + +“This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the +avenue.” + +But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, +laughingly answered: + +“No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear +to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a +fourth. Good-bye.” + +She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of +being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered +as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her +sister, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the +drawing-room, where she was welcomed by her two friends with many +professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable +as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. +Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an +entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh +at their acquaintance with spirit. + +But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object; +Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had +something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed +himself to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also +made her a slight bow, and said he was “very glad;” but diffuseness +and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and +attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she +should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire +to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from +the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone +else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great +delight. + +When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the +card-table--but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. +Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open +petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and +the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. +Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the +sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; +and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets +and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss +Bennet. + +Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr. +Darcy's progress through _his_ book, as in reading her own; and she +was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She +could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her +question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be +amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the +second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, “How pleasant +it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no +enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a +book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not +an excellent library.” + +No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and +cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when hearing +her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly +towards him and said: + +“By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at +Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult +the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are +not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a +pleasure.” + +“If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he +chooses, before it begins--but as for the ball, it is quite a settled +thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send +round my cards.” + +“I should like balls infinitely better,” she replied, “if they were +carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably +tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much +more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of +the day.” + +“Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be +near so much like a ball.” + +Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walked +about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but +Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In +the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and, +turning to Elizabeth, said: + +“Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a +turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so +long in one attitude.” + +Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley +succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked +up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as +Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was +directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that +he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down +the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would +interfere. “What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his +meaning?”--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him? + +“Not at all,” was her answer; “but depend upon it, he means to be severe +on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing +about it.” + +Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in +anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his +two motives. + +“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” said he, as soon +as she allowed him to speak. “You either choose this method of passing +the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret +affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures +appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be +completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better +as I sit by the fire.” + +“Oh! shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “I never heard anything so +abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?” + +“Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,” said Elizabeth. “We +can all plague and punish one another. Tease him--laugh at him. Intimate +as you are, you must know how it is to be done.” + +“But upon my honour, I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has +not yet taught me _that_. Tease calmness of manner and presence of +mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will +not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a +subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself.” + +“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!” cried Elizabeth. “That is an +uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would +be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a +laugh.” + +“Miss Bingley,” said he, “has given me more credit than can be. +The wisest and the best of men--nay, the wisest and best of their +actions--may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in +life is a joke.” + +“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth--“there are such people, but I hope I +am not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. +Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, _do_ divert me, I own, +and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely +what you are without.” + +“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study +of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong +understanding to ridicule.” + +“Such as vanity and pride.” + +“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real +superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.” + +Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. + +“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley; +“and pray what is the result?” + +“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it +himself without disguise.” + +“No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, +but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch +for. It is, I believe, too little yielding--certainly too little for the +convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others +so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings +are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper +would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost +forever.” + +“_That_ is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “Implacable resentment +_is_ a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I +really cannot _laugh_ at it. You are safe from me.” + +“There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular +evil--a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” + +“And _your_ defect is to hate everybody.” + +“And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand +them.” + +“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a +conversation in which she had no share. “Louisa, you will not mind my +waking Mr. Hurst?” + +Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was +opened; and Darcy, after a few moments' recollection, was not sorry for +it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the +next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for +them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on +her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which +would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive +them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at +least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs. +Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage +before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley +and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them +very well. Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively +resolved--nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the +contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, +she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at +length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield +that morning should be mentioned, and the request made. + +The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was +said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work +on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was +then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike +of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other. + +The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so +soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be +safe for her--that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where +she felt herself to be right. + +To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence--Elizabeth had been at +Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked--and Miss +Bingley was uncivil to _her_, and more teasing than usual to himself. +He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration +should _now_ escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope +of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been +suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight +in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke +ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were +at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most +conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her. + +On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost +all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last +very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, +after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her +to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most +tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of +the whole party in the liveliest of spirits. + +They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet +wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much +trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But their +father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really +glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The +evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of +its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Jane and +Elizabeth. + +They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human +nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new observations of +threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information +for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said +in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers +had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it +had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +“I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at +breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner to-day, +because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.” + +“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, +unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in--and I hope _my_ dinners +are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home.” + +“The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.” + +Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. “A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. +Bingley, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. +Bingley. But--good Lord! how unlucky! There is not a bit of fish to be +got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell--I must speak to Hill this +moment.” + +“It is _not_ Mr. Bingley,” said her husband; “it is a person whom I +never saw in the whole course of my life.” + +This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being +eagerly questioned by his wife and his five daughters at once. + +After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained: + +“About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago +I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring +early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, +may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.” + +“Oh! my dear,” cried his wife, “I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. +Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing +in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own +children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago +to do something or other about it.” + +Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to her the nature of an entail. They +had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which +Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail +bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of +five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about. + +“It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Mr. Bennet, “and +nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. +But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little +softened by his manner of expressing himself.” + +“No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of +him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false +friends. Why could he not keep on quarreling with you, as his father did +before him?” + +“Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that +head, as you will hear.” + +“Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October. + +“Dear Sir,-- + +“The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured +father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the +misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but +for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might +seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone +with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.--'There, Mrs. +Bennet.'--My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having +received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be +distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de +Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has +preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be +my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her +ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which +are instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I +feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in +all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I +flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and +that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate +will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the +offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the +means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for +it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible +amends--but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to +receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting +on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and +shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight +following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine +is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided +that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.--I +remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and +daughters, your well-wisher and friend, + +“WILLIAM COLLINS” + +“At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,” + said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. “He seems to be a most +conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will +prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so +indulgent as to let him come to us again.” + +“There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and if +he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to +discourage him.” + +“Though it is difficult,” said Jane, “to guess in what way he can mean +to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his +credit.” + +Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Lady +Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying +his parishioners whenever it were required. + +“He must be an oddity, I think,” said she. “I cannot make him +out.--There is something very pompous in his style.--And what can he +mean by apologising for being next in the entail?--We cannot suppose he +would help it if he could.--Could he be a sensible man, sir?” + +“No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the +reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his +letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him.” + +“In point of composition,” said Mary, “the letter does not seem +defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I +think it is well expressed.” + +To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any +degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should +come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had +received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for +their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will, +and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure which +astonished her husband and daughters. + +Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great +politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the +ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in +need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a +tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and +stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated +before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of +daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this +instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did +not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage. This +gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs. +Bennet, who quarreled with no compliments, answered most readily. + +“You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may +prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so +oddly.” + +“You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.” + +“Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you +must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with _you_, for such things +I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates +will go when once they come to be entailed.” + +“I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and +could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing +forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come +prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, +when we are better acquainted--” + +He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each +other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration. The +hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; +and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet's +heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his +own future property. The dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and +he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its +cooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, who +assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a +good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He +begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared +herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a +quarter of an hour. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants +were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his +guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to +shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady +Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for +his comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen +better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him +to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect +he protested that “he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in +a person of rank--such affability and condescension, as he had himself +experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to +approve of both of the discourses which he had already had the honour of +preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings, +and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of +quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many +people he knew, but _he_ had never seen anything but affability in her. +She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she +made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the +neighbourhood nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week or +two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to +marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had +once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly +approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed +to suggest some herself--some shelves in the closet up stairs.” + +“That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,” said Mrs. Bennet, “and +I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies +in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?” + +“The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane +from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence.” + +“I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?” + +“She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very +extensive property.” + +“Ah!” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is better off than +many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?” + +“She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says +that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the +handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks +the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly +constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many +accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am +informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still +resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends +to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies.” + +“Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at +court.” + +“Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; +and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the +British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased +with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to +offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable +to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that +her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most +elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by +her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and +it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to +pay.” + +“You judge very properly,” said Mr. Bennet, “and it is happy for you +that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask +whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the +moment, or are the result of previous study?” + +“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I +sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant +compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to +give them as unstudied an air as possible.” + +Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd +as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, +maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, +and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner +in his pleasure. + +By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad +to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was over, +glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily +assented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it (for everything +announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and +begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at +him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some +deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the +volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three +pages, she interrupted him with: + +“Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of turning away +Richard; and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me +so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more +about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town.” + +Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr. +Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said: + +“I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books +of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes +me, I confess; for, certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to +them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin.” + +Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at +backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted +very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. +Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's +interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would +resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his +young cousin no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any +affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared +for backgammon. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had +been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part +of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and +miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he +had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful +acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had +given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a +good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in +retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected +prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de +Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which +he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, +mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a +clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of +pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility. + +Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to +marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had +a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found +them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. +This was his plan of amends--of atonement--for inheriting their father's +estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and +suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own +part. + +His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face +confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what +was due to seniority; and for the first evening _she_ was his settled +choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a +quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a +conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally +to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at +Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general +encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. “As to +her _younger_ daughters, she could not take upon her to say--she could +not positively answer--but she did not _know_ of any prepossession; her +_eldest_ daughter, she must just mention--she felt it incumbent on her +to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.” + +Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth--and it was soon +done--done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally +next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course. + +Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have +two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of +the day before was now high in her good graces. + +Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister +except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, +at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, +and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed +him after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with +one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. +Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such +doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been +always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told +Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the +house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, +was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their +walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker +than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go. + +In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his +cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of +the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were +immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and +nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in +a shop window, could recall them. + +But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom +they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking +with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was +the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came +to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the +stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, +determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under +pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately +had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had +reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated +permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with +him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a +commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the +young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. +His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of +beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. +The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness +of conversation--a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and +unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together +very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy +and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the +ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and +began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and +Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to +Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated +it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes +on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the +stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they +looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. +Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, +after a few moments, touched his hat--a salutation which Mr. Darcy just +deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to +imagine; it was impossible not to long to know. + +In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what +passed, took leave and rode on with his friend. + +Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of +Mr. Phillip's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's +pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of +Mrs. Phillips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the +invitation. + +Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, +from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was +eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as +their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing +about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the +street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to +Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility +was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She +received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with +as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous +acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, +however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who +introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Phillips was quite awed by such an +excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon +put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other; of whom, +however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that +Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a +lieutenant's commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the +last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. +Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the +occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the +officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid, +disagreeable fellows.” Some of them were to dine with the Phillipses +the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. +Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn +would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Phillips +protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery +tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such +delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. +Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured +with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless. + +As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass +between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either +or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain +such behaviour than her sister. + +Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring +Mrs. Phillips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady +Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; +for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even +pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although +utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be +attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so +much attention in the whole course of his life. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their +aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for +a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach +conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and +the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, +that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in +the house. + +When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. +Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much +struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he +might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast +parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much +gratification; but when Mrs. Phillips understood from him what +Rosings was, and who was its proprietor--when she had listened to the +description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found +that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all +the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison +with the housekeeper's room. + +In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, +with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and +the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the +gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Phillips a very attentive +listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she +heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as +soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, +and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine +their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the +interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however. +The gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, +Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking +of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. +The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, +gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but +Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and +walk, as _they_ were superior to the broad-faced, stuffy uncle Phillips, +breathing port wine, who followed them into the room. + +Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was +turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated +himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into +conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel +that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered +interesting by the skill of the speaker. + +With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the +officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young +ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind +listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantly +supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables were placed, he +had the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by sitting down to whist. + +“I know little of the game at present,” said he, “but I shall be glad +to improve myself, for in my situation in life--” Mrs. Phillips was very +glad for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason. + +Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he +received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there +seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for she was a most +determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, +she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets +and exclaiming after prizes to have attention for anyone in particular. +Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore +at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear +him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be +told--the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not +even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly +relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far +Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in +a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there. + +“About a month,” said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject +drop, added, “He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I +understand.” + +“Yes,” replied Mr. Wickham; “his estate there is a noble one. A clear +ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more +capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for +I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my +infancy.” + +Elizabeth could not but look surprised. + +“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after +seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting +yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?” + +“As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Elizabeth very warmly. “I have +spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very +disagreeable.” + +“I have no right to give _my_ opinion,” said Wickham, “as to his being +agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him +too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for _me_ +to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general +astonish--and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly +anywhere else. Here you are in your own family.” + +“Upon my word, I say no more _here_ than I might say in any house in +the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in +Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find +him more favourably spoken of by anyone.” + +“I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Wickham, after a short +interruption, “that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond +their deserts; but with _him_ I believe it does not often happen. The +world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his +high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.” + +“I should take him, even on _my_ slight acquaintance, to be an +ill-tempered man.” Wickham only shook his head. + +“I wonder,” said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, “whether he is +likely to be in this country much longer.” + +“I do not at all know; but I _heard_ nothing of his going away when I +was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will +not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.” + +“Oh! no--it is not for _me_ to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If _he_ +wishes to avoid seeing _me_, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, +and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for +avoiding _him_ but what I might proclaim before all the world, a sense +of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he +is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men +that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never +be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by +a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been +scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and +everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the +memory of his father.” + +Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with +all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry. + +Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the +neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that +he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very +intelligible gallantry. + +“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,” he added, +“which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be +a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me +further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great +attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them. +Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and +my spirits will not bear solitude. I _must_ have employment and society. +A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have +now made it eligible. The church _ought_ to have been my profession--I +was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in +possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we +were speaking of just now.” + +“Indeed!” + +“Yes--the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best +living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. +I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, +and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given +elsewhere.” + +“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but how could _that_ be? How could his +will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?” + +“There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to +give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the +intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it--or to treat it as a merely +conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim +to it by extravagance, imprudence--in short anything or nothing. Certain +it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was +of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no +less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done +anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and +I may have spoken my opinion _of_ him, and _to_ him, too freely. I can +recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort +of men, and that he hates me.” + +“This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced.” + +“Some time or other he _will_ be--but it shall not be by _me_. Till I +can forget his father, I can never defy or expose _him_.” + +Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than +ever as he expressed them. + +“But what,” said she, after a pause, “can have been his motive? What can +have induced him to behave so cruelly?” + +“A thorough, determined dislike of me--a dislike which I cannot but +attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me +less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon +attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had +not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood--the sort +of preference which was often given me.” + +“I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this--though I have never liked +him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I had supposed him to be +despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of +descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as +this.” + +After a few minutes' reflection, however, she continued, “I _do_ +remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of +his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition +must be dreadful.” + +“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied Wickham; “I can hardly +be just to him.” + +Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “To +treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his +father!” She could have added, “A young man, too, like _you_, whose very +countenance may vouch for your being amiable”--but she contented herself +with, “and one, too, who had probably been his companion from childhood, +connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!” + +“We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest +part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, +sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. _My_ +father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Phillips, +appears to do so much credit to--but he gave up everything to be of +use to the late Mr. Darcy and devoted all his time to the care of the +Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most +intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to +be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence, +and when, immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a +voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to +be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_, as of his affection to myself.” + +“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that the very +pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from no better +motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest--for +dishonesty I must call it.” + +“It _is_ wonderful,” replied Wickham, “for almost all his actions may +be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It has +connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are +none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger +impulses even than pride.” + +“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?” + +“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money +freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the +poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride--for he is very proud of what +his father was--have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, +to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the +Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride, +which, with _some_ brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and +careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up +as the most attentive and best of brothers.” + +“What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?” + +He shook his head. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to +speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother--very, very +proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond +of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is +nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, +and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her +home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her +education.” + +After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not +help reverting once more to the first, and saying: + +“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, +who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, +be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you +know Mr. Bingley?” + +“Not at all.” + +“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. +Darcy is.” + +“Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not +want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth +his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is +a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His +pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just, +sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable--allowing something +for fortune and figure.” + +The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round +the other table and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin +Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usual inquiries as to his success were +made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every +point; but when Mrs. Phillips began to express her concern thereupon, +he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least +importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged +that she would not make herself uneasy. + +“I know very well, madam,” said he, “that when persons sit down to a +card-table, they must take their chances of these things, and happily I +am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There +are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady +Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding +little matters.” + +Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for +a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation +was very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh. + +“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she replied, “has very lately given him +a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her +notice, but he certainly has not known her long.” + +“You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy +were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy.” + +“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's +connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before +yesterday.” + +“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is +believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.” + +This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss +Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her +affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already +self-destined for another. + +“Mr. Collins,” said she, “speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her +daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, +I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his +patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.” + +“I believe her to be both in a great degree,” replied Wickham; “I have +not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked +her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the +reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe +she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from +her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride for her +nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an +understanding of the first class.” + +Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and +they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supper +put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. +Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise +of Mrs. Phillips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to +everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done +gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could +think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all +the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name +as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia +talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the +fish she had won; and Mr. Collins in describing the civility of Mr. and +Mrs. Phillips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses +at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing +that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage +before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +Elizabeth related to Jane the next day what had passed between Mr. +Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern; she +knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. +Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the +veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. The +possibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough to +interest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to be +done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, +and throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever could not be +otherwise explained. + +“They have both,” said she, “been deceived, I dare say, in some way +or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps +misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to +conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, +without actual blame on either side.” + +“Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say on +behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the +business? Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of +somebody.” + +“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my +opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light +it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such +a manner, one whom his father had promised to provide for. It is +impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his +character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so +excessively deceived in him? Oh! no.” + +“I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than +that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me +last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. If it +be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his +looks.” + +“It is difficult indeed--it is distressing. One does not know what to +think.” + +“I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think.” + +But Jane could think with certainty on only one point--that Mr. Bingley, +if he _had_ been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair +became public. + +The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this +conversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom they had +been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal +invitation for the long-expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed +for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their +dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly +asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To +the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet +as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to +the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an +activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if +eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities. + +The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every +female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in +compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered +by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a +ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the +society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and +Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. +Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy's look +and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended +less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they +each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, +he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball +was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she +had no disinclination for it. + +“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is enough--I +think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. +Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those +who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for +everybody.” + +Elizabeth's spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she did +not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking +him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if +he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's +amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no +scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke +either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to +dance. + +“I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you,” said he, “that a ball +of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, +can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing +myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair +cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of +soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, +a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right +cause, and not to any disrespect for her.” + +Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being +engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances; and to have Mr. Collins +instead! her liveliness had never been worse timed. There was no help +for it, however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own were perforce +delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as +good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his +gallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. It now first +struck her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy +of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a +quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. +The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing +civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a +compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than +gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before +her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage +was extremely agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth, however, did not choose +to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the +consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and +till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him. + +If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the +younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at this +time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there +was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton +once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after--the very +shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have +found some trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended the +improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than +a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and +Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia. + + + +Chapter 18 + + +Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in +vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a +doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty +of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that +might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than +usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all +that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than +might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose +the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's +pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though +this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was +pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who +told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the +day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, +“I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if +he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here.” + +This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by +Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for +Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every +feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate +disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to +the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. +Attendance, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She +was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away +with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in +speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her. + +But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect +of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her +spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had +not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition +to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular +notice. The first two dances, however, brought a return of distress; +they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, +apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being +aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable +partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from +him was ecstasy. + +She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of +Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances +were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with +her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took +her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, +without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again +immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of +mind; Charlotte tried to console her: + +“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.” + +“Heaven forbid! _That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find +a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an +evil.” + +When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her +hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a +simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant +in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no +answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which +she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and +reading in her neighbours' looks, their equal amazement in beholding +it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to +imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at +first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would +be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made +some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again +silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time +with:--“It is _your_ turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked +about the dance, and _you_ ought to make some sort of remark on the size +of the room, or the number of couples.” + +He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be +said. + +“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may +observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But +_now_ we may be silent.” + +“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?” + +“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be +entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of +_some_, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the +trouble of saying as little as possible.” + +“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you +imagine that you are gratifying mine?” + +“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly; “for I have always seen a great +similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, +taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say +something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to +posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.” + +“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,” + said he. “How near it may be to _mine_, I cannot pretend to say. _You_ +think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.” + +“I must not decide on my own performance.” + +He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down +the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often +walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist +the temptation, added, “When you met us there the other day, we had just +been forming a new acquaintance.” + +The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of _hauteur_ overspread his +features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself +for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a +constrained manner said, “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners +as may ensure his _making_ friends--whether he may be equally capable of +_retaining_ them, is less certain.” + +“He has been so unlucky as to lose _your_ friendship,” replied Elizabeth +with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all +his life.” + +Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At +that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass +through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. +Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on +his dancing and his partner. + +“I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very +superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the +first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not +disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, +especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at +her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What congratulations will then +flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:--but let me not interrupt you, sir. You +will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that +young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.” + +The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir +William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his +eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and +Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, +he turned to his partner, and said, “Sir William's interruption has made +me forget what we were talking of.” + +“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have +interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. +We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we +are to talk of next I cannot imagine.” + +“What think you of books?” said he, smiling. + +“Books--oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same +feelings.” + +“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be +no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.” + +“No--I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of +something else.” + +“The _present_ always occupies you in such scenes--does it?” said he, +with a look of doubt. + +“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her +thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared +by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, +that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was +unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its _being +created_.” + +“I am,” said he, with a firm voice. + +“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?” + +“I hope not.” + +“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, +to be secure of judging properly at first.” + +“May I ask to what these questions tend?” + +“Merely to the illustration of _your_ character,” said she, endeavouring +to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.” + +“And what is your success?” + +She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different +accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.” + +“I can readily believe,” answered he gravely, “that reports may vary +greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were +not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to +fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.” + +“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another +opportunity.” + +“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied. +She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in +silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, +for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards +her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against +another. + +They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and +with an expression of civil disdain accosted her: + +“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! +Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand +questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among +his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late +Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to +give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's +using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has +always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated +Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but +I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he +cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother +thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to +the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself +out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent +thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, +Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really, +considering his descent, one could not expect much better.” + +“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,” said +Elizabeth angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse +than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of _that_, I can +assure you, he informed me himself.” + +“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. +“Excuse my interference--it was kindly meant.” + +“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken +if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see +nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr. +Darcy.” She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make +inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of +such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently +marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. +Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for +Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way +before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness. + +“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her +sister's, “what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have +been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case +you may be sure of my pardon.” + +“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing +satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of +his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have +principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, +the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that +Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has +received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's, +Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has +been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard.” + +“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?” + +“No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.” + +“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am +satisfied. But what does he say of the living?” + +“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard +them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to +him _conditionally_ only.” + +“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly; +“but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. +Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but +since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt +the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of +both gentlemen as I did before.” + +She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on +which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with +delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. +Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence +in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew +to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last +partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them, +and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as +to make a most important discovery. + +“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now +in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the +gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of +the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady +Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have +thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de +Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made +in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to +do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total +ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.” + +“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!” + +“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. +I believe him to be Lady Catherine's _nephew_. It will be in my power to +assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight.” + +Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him +that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction +as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that +it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either +side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in +consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her +with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she +ceased speaking, replied thus: + +“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in +your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your +understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide +difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, +and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that +I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with +the highest rank in the kingdom--provided that a proper humility of +behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to +follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to +perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to +profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant +guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by +education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young +lady like yourself.” And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. +Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose +astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced +his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of +it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the +words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed +her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him +with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time +to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, +was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed +abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the +end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. +Collins then returned to Elizabeth. + +“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my +reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered +me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying +that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be +certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very +handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.” + +As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned +her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the +train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, +made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in +that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection +could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of +endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts +she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to +venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to +supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which +placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find +that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, +openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon +be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet +seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the +match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but +three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and +then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of +Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as +she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger +daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of +other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be +able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that +she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was +necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on +such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs. +Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She +concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally +fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no +chance of it. + +In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's +words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible +whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the +chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her +mother only scolded her for being nonsensical. + +“What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am +sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say +nothing _he_ may not like to hear.” + +“For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you +to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by +so doing!” + +Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would +talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and +blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently +glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what +she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was +convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression +of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and +steady gravity. + +At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who +had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no +likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and +chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of +tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, and +she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, +preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent +entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, +but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of +exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's +eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her +progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very +ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks +of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to +favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. +Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was +weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at +Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to +Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs +of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however, +imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his +interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, +and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, “That will do +extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other +young ladies have time to exhibit.” + +Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and +Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid +her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to. + +“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I +should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an +air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly +compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however, +to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time +to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The +rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make +such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not +offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time +that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care +and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making +as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance +that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, +especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit +him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an +occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the +family.” And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had +been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared--many +smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his +wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, +and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably +clever, good kind of young man. + +To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to +expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would +have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or +finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister +that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his +feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he +must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should +have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough, +and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the +gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. + +The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by +Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though +he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of her +power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with +somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. +He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; +that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to +her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her +the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed +her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and +good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself. + +She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's further notice; +though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite +disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the +probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in +it. + +The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by +a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of +an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how +heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her +sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and +were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed +every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a +languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the +long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his +sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and +politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said +nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. +Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the +rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a +silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too +much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of “Lord, +how tired I am!” accompanied by a violent yawn. + +When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly +civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and +addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he +would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without +the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, +and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on +her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next +day for a short time. + +Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the +delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of +settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly +see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four +months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought +with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. +Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the +man and the match were quite good enough for _her_, the worth of each +was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his +declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as +his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having +no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at +the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the +observances, which he supposed a regular part of the business. On +finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, +soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words: + +“May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, +when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the +course of this morning?” + +Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. +Bennet answered instantly, “Oh dear!--yes--certainly. I am sure Lizzy +will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I +want you up stairs.” And, gathering her work together, she was hastening +away, when Elizabeth called out: + +“Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse +me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am +going away myself.” + +“No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are.” And upon +Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to +escape, she added: “Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing Mr. +Collins.” + +Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction--and a moment's +consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it +over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again and tried to +conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided between +distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as +they were gone, Mr. Collins began. + +“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from +doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You +would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little +unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected +mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the +purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to +dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as +soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of +my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this +subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for +marrying--and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design +of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.” + +The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away +with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she could +not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, +and he continued: + +“My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for +every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example +of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will +add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly--which perhaps I ought +to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and +recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling +patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked +too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I +left Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was +arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you +must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose +a gentlewoman for _my_ sake; and for your _own_, let her be an active, +useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small +income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as +you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the +way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice +and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the +advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond +anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be +acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and +respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general +intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views +were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I +can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that +being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured +father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy +myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that +the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy +event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not +be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and +I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing +remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the +violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and +shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well +aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds +in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's +decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, +therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that +no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married.” + +It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. + +“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no +answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for +the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of +your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to +decline them.” + +“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the +hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the +man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their +favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a +third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just +said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.” + +“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is a rather +extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not +one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so +daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second +time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make _me_ +happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who +could make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I +am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the +situation.” + +“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins +very gravely--“but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all +disapprove of you. And you may be certain when I have the honour of +seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms of your +modesty, economy, and other amiable qualification.” + +“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You +must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment +of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by +refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. +In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your +feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn +estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may +be considered, therefore, as finally settled.” And rising as she +thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. Collins not thus +addressed her: + +“When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, I +shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given +me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I +know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on +the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to +encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the +female character.” + +“Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me +exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form +of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as +to convince you of its being one.” + +“You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your +refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for +believing it are briefly these: It does not appear to me that my hand is +unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would +be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections +with the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are +circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further +consideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no +means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your +portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo +the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must +therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, +I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by +suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.” + +“I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind +of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would +rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you +again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but +to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect +forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant +female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking +the truth from her heart.” + +“You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward +gallantry; “and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express +authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of +being acceptable.” + +To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make +no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if +he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering +encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered +in such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behaviour at least could +not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his +successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule +to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open +the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she +entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in +warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins +received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then +proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result +of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the +refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow +from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character. + +This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been +glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage +him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, +and could not help saying so. + +“But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins,” she added, “that Lizzy shall be +brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very +headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will +_make_ her know it.” + +“Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,” cried Mr. Collins; “but if +she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would +altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who +naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she +actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not +to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of +temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.” + +“Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. “Lizzy is +only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as +good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and +we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.” + +She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her +husband, called out as she entered the library, “Oh! Mr. Bennet, you +are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make +Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you +do not make haste he will change his mind and not have _her_.” + +Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them +on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by +her communication. + +“I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” said he, when she had +finished her speech. “Of what are you talking?” + +“Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins, +and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy.” + +“And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless business.” + +“Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her +marrying him.” + +“Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion.” + +Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the +library. + +“Come here, child,” cried her father as she appeared. “I have sent for +you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made +you an offer of marriage. Is it true?” Elizabeth replied that it was. +“Very well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?” + +“I have, sir.” + +“Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your +accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?” + +“Yes, or I will never see her again.” + +“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must +be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you +again if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again +if you _do_.” + +Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning, +but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the +affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed. + +“What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talking this way? You promised me to +_insist_ upon her marrying him.” + +“My dear,” replied her husband, “I have two small favours to request. +First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the +present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the +library to myself as soon as may be.” + +Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did +Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again; +coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane +in her interest; but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined +interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and +sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner +varied, however, her determination never did. + +Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. +He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousin +could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other +way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her +deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret. + +While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend +the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to +her, cried in a half whisper, “I am glad you are come, for there is such +fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has +made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him.” + +Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, +who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the +breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on +the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating +her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her +family. “Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas,” she added in a melancholy tone, +“for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used, +nobody feels for my poor nerves.” + +Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth. + +“Aye, there she comes,” continued Mrs. Bennet, “looking as unconcerned +as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided +she can have her own way. But I tell you, Miss Lizzy--if you take it +into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, +you will never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is +to maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep +you--and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told +you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again, +and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking +to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking +to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have +no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it +is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.” + +Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that +any attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the +irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of +them, till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered the room with +an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to +the girls, “Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold +your tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins have a little conversation +together.” + +Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but +Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, +detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after +herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little +curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending +not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the projected +conversation: “Oh! Mr. Collins!” + +“My dear madam,” replied he, “let us be for ever silent on this point. +Far be it from me,” he presently continued, in a voice that marked his +displeasure, “to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation +to inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a +young man who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; +and I trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt +of my positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; +for I have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as +when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our +estimation. You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect +to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to +your daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the +compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my +behalf. My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my +dismission from your daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all +liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. +My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due +consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my _manner_ +has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise.” + + + +Chapter 21 + + +The discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and +Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily +attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of her +mother. As for the gentleman himself, _his_ feelings were chiefly +expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, +but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke +to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of +himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose +civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and +especially to her friend. + +The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill-humour or ill +health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth +had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did +not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on +Saturday, and to Saturday he meant to stay. + +After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. Wickham +were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. +He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their +aunt's where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was +well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged +that the necessity of his absence _had_ been self-imposed. + +“I found,” said he, “as the time drew near that I had better not meet +Mr. Darcy; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so +many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes +might arise unpleasant to more than myself.” + +She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full +discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly +bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with +them to Longbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended to +her. His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all the +compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an +occasion of introducing him to her father and mother. + +Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came +from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, +hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and +Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read it, and saw +her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane recollected +herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual +cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxiety +on the subject which drew off her attention even from Wickham; and no +sooner had he and his companion taken leave, than a glance from Jane +invited her to follow her up stairs. When they had gained their own room, +Jane, taking out the letter, said: + +“This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised me a good +deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on +their way to town--and without any intention of coming back again. You +shall hear what she says.” + +She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information +of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, +and of their meaning to dine in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst had a +house. The next was in these words: “I do not pretend to regret anything +I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; +but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of that +delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may +lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved +correspondence. I depend on you for that.” To these highflown +expressions Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust; +and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she saw +nothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that their +absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as +to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must cease to +regard it, in the enjoyment of his. + +“It is unlucky,” said she, after a short pause, “that you should not be +able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not +hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks +forward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful +intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greater +satisfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by +them.” + +“Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into +Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you:” + +“When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which +took him to London might be concluded in three or four days; but as we +are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when +Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have +determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend +his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are +already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my +dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd--but of +that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may +abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your +beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the +three of whom we shall deprive you.” + +“It is evident by this,” added Jane, “that he comes back no more this +winter.” + +“It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean that he _should_.” + +“Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own +master. But you do not know _all_. I _will_ read you the passage which +particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from _you_.” + +“Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, +_we_ are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think +Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; +and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into +something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of +her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before +mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the +country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them +unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have +frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; +her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister's +partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most +capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to +favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest +Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness +of so many?” + +“What do you think of _this_ sentence, my dear Lizzy?” said Jane as she +finished it. “Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare that +Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she is +perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference; and that if she +suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to +put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?” + +“Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?” + +“Most willingly.” + +“You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is +in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him +to town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he +does not care about you.” + +Jane shook her head. + +“Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you +together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She +is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. +Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the +case is this: We are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and she +is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion +that when there has been _one_ intermarriage, she may have less trouble +in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and +I dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, +my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley +tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest +degree less sensible of _your_ merit than when he took leave of you on +Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead +of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend.” + +“If we thought alike of Miss Bingley,” replied Jane, “your +representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the +foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving +anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is deceiving +herself.” + +“That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since you +will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by all means. +You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer.” + +“But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in +accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry +elsewhere?” + +“You must decide for yourself,” said Elizabeth; “and if, upon mature +deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is +more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by +all means to refuse him.” + +“How can you talk so?” said Jane, faintly smiling. “You must know that +though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could +not hesitate.” + +“I did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider +your situation with much compassion.” + +“But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be +required. A thousand things may arise in six months!” + +The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost +contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's +interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those +wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man +so totally independent of everyone. + +She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt +on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. +Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, +though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that +Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart. + +They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the +family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct; +but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern, +and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen +to go away just as they were all getting so intimate together. After +lamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation that Mr. +Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and the +conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he had +been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two +full courses. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during the +chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins. +Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. “It keeps him in good +humour,” said she, “and I am more obliged to you than I can express.” + Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and +that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was +very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than Elizabeth +had any conception of; its object was nothing else than to secure her +from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging them towards +herself. Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and appearances were so +favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost +secure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very +soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his +character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next +morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw +himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins, +from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to +conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known +till its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almost +secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, +he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. +His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas +perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and +instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had +she dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there. + +In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow, +everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as +they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day that +was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must +be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with +his happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must +guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its +continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure +and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that +establishment were gained. + +Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent; +and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present +circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom +they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were +exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more +interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer +Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided +opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the +Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife +should make their appearance at St. James's. The whole family, in short, +were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes +of _coming out_ a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have +done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's +dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had +gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were +in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible +nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must +be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly +either of men or matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was +the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, +and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest +preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at +the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all +the good luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business +was the surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship +she valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth would wonder, +and probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to be +shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved +to give her the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, +when he returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had +passed before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very +dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the +curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct +questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was +at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to +publish his prosperous love. + +As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the +family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved +for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and cordiality, +said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever +his engagements might allow him to visit them. + +“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invitation is particularly +gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and +you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as +possible.” + +They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for +so speedy a return, immediately said: + +“But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my +good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of +offending your patroness.” + +“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Collins, “I am particularly obliged to you +for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so +material a step without her ladyship's concurrence.” + +“You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her +displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us +again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, +and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence.” + +“Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such +affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive +from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your +regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though +my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now +take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my +cousin Elizabeth.” + +With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally +surprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to +understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her +younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. +She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was +a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no +means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read +and improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very +agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this +kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a +private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before. + +The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her +friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but +that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from +possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was +consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and +she could not help crying out: + +“Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte--impossible!” + +The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her +story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a +reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained +her composure, and calmly replied: + +“Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible +that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion, +because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?” + +But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort +for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of +their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her +all imaginable happiness. + +“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte. “You must be surprised, +very much surprised--so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry +you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be +satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never +was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's +character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my +chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on +entering the marriage state.” + +Elizabeth quietly answered “Undoubtedly;” and after an awkward pause, +they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much +longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. +It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so +unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers +of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now +accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony was +not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible +that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better +feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a +most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself +and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it +was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had +chosen. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what +she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mention +it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter, to +announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, +and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the +houses, he unfolded the matter--to an audience not merely wondering, but +incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, +protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and +often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed: + +“Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know +that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?” + +Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne +without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried +him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the +truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the +most forbearing courtesy. + +Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant +a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by +mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and +endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters +by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she +was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the +happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character +of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London. + +Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while +Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings +found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving +the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins +had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be +happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two +inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that +Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she +herself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these two +points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could +console and nothing could appease her. Nor did that day wear out her +resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without +scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William +or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she +could at all forgive their daughter. + +Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such +as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for +it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had +been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and +more foolish than his daughter! + +Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said +less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; +nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty +and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a +clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news +to spread at Meryton. + +Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort +on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she +called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, +though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been +enough to drive happiness away. + +Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them +mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that +no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her +disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her +sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could +never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, +as Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was heard of his +return. + +Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting +the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised +letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to +their father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a +twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging +his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many +rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affection +of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that it was +merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready +to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither +he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, +he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to take +place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable +argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early day for making him +the happiest of men. + +Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of +pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to +complain of it as her husband. It was very strange that he should come +to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient +and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house +while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the +most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and +they gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued +absence. + +Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after +day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the +report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to +Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs. +Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous +falsehood. + +Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that +his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as +she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so +dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its +frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters +and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss +Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she feared, for +the strength of his attachment. + +As for Jane, _her_ anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more +painful than Elizabeth's, but whatever she felt she was desirous of +concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject +was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, +an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her +impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he +did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It needed +all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable +tranquillity. + +Mr. Collins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but his +reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his +first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention; +and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them +from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by +him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time +to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed. + +Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of +anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour, +and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight +of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she +regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see +them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and +whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that +they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself +and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She +complained bitterly of all this to her husband. + +“Indeed, Mr. Bennet,” said she, “it is very hard to think that Charlotte +Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to +make way for _her_, and live to see her take her place in it!” + +“My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for +better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.” + +This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and therefore, instead of +making any answer, she went on as before. + +“I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was +not for the entail, I should not mind it.” + +“What should not you mind?” + +“I should not mind anything at all.” + +“Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such +insensibility.” + +“I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How +anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one's own +daughters, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins too! +Why should _he_ have it more than anybody else?” + +“I leave it to yourself to determine,” said Mr. Bennet. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first +sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for +the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had +time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left +the country. + +Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest +of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the +writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied +the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline +boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict +the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former +letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an +inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of +the latter with regard to new furniture. + +Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this, +heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern +for her sister, and resentment against all others. To Caroline's +assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no +credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she +had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she +could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness +of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave +of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice of his own happiness +to the caprice of their inclination. Had his own happiness, however, +been the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in +whatever manner he thought best, but her sister's was involved in it, as +she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, +on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She +could think of nothing else; and yet whether Bingley's regard had really +died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether +he had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his +observation; whatever were the case, though her opinion of him must be +materially affected by the difference, her sister's situation remained +the same, her peace equally wounded. + +A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to +Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a +longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could +not help saying: + +“Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself! She can have no +idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But +I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall +all be as we were before.” + +Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said +nothing. + +“You doubt me,” cried Jane, slightly colouring; “indeed, you have +no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my +acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, +and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not _that_ pain. A +little time, therefore--I shall certainly try to get the better.” + +With a stronger voice she soon added, “I have this comfort immediately, +that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it +has done no harm to anyone but myself.” + +“My dear Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth, “you are too good. Your sweetness +and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say +to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you +deserve.” + +Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back +the praise on her sister's warm affection. + +“Nay,” said Elizabeth, “this is not fair. _You_ wish to think all the +world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want +to think _you_ perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not +be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your +privilege of universal good-will. You need not. There are few people +whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see +of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms +my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the +little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or +sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention; the +other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! In every view it is +unaccountable!” + +“My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will +ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference +of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and +Charlotte's steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a +large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be +ready to believe, for everybody's sake, that she may feel something like +regard and esteem for our cousin.” + +“To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else +could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that +Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her +understanding than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a +conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as +I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who married him +cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though +it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one individual, +change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade +yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of +danger security for happiness.” + +“I must think your language too strong in speaking of both,” replied +Jane; “and I hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them happy +together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You +mentioned _two_ instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat +you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking _that person_ to blame, and +saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy +ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man +to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but +our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than +it does.” + +“And men take care that they should.” + +“If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea +of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.” + +“I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to design,” + said Elizabeth; “but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others +unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, +want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, +will do the business.” + +“And do you impute it to either of those?” + +“Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what +I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can.” + +“You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?” + +“Yes, in conjunction with his friend.” + +“I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can +only wish his happiness; and if he is attached to me, no other woman can +secure it.” + +“Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his +happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they +may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great +connections, and pride.” + +“Beyond a doubt, they _do_ wish him to choose Miss Darcy,” replied Jane; +“but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have +known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love +her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely +they should have opposed their brother's. What sister would think +herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very +objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try +to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an +affection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most +unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been +mistaken--or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what +I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it in +the best light, in the light in which it may be understood.” + +Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley's +name was scarcely ever mentioned between them. + +Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no +more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account +for it clearly, there was little chance of her ever considering it with +less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what she +did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely the +effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her +no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at +the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet's best +comfort was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer. + +Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. “So, Lizzy,” said he one day, +“your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to +being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. +It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction +among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to +be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough in +Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham +be _your_ man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.” + +“Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not +all expect Jane's good fortune.” + +“True,” said Mr. Bennet, “but it is a comfort to think that whatever of +that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will make +the most of it.” + +Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom +which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn +family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now +added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already +heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, +was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was +pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they +had known anything of the matter. + +Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be +any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society +of Hertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for +allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes--but by everybody else +Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, +Mr. Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of +Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his +side, by preparations for the reception of his bride; as he had reason +to hope, that shortly after his return into Hertfordshire, the day would +be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave of his +relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished his fair +cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father another +letter of thanks. + +On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving +her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas +at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly +superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield +ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived +by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so +well-bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger +than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant +woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the +two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a particular regard. +They had frequently been staying with her in town. + +The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival was to +distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was +done she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. +Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They +had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her +girls had been upon the point of marriage, and after all there was +nothing in it. + +“I do not blame Jane,” she continued, “for Jane would have got Mr. +Bingley if she could. But Lizzy! Oh, sister! It is very hard to think +that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had it not +been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, +and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have +a daughter married before I have, and that the Longbourn estate is just +as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, +sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of +them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted +so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves +before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the +greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of +long sleeves.” + +Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, +in the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her +sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the +conversation. + +When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. “It +seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane,” said she. “I am +sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such +as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl +for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets +her, that these sort of inconsistencies are very frequent.” + +“An excellent consolation in its way,” said Elizabeth, “but it will not +do for _us_. We do not suffer by _accident_. It does not often +happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of +independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in +love with only a few days before.” + +“But that expression of 'violently in love' is so hackneyed, so +doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as +often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour's acquaintance, +as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how _violent was_ Mr. Bingley's +love?” + +“I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite +inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time +they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he +offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance; and I +spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be +finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?” + +“Oh, yes!--of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor +Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get +over it immediately. It had better have happened to _you_, Lizzy; you +would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she +would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be +of service--and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as +anything.” + +Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded +of her sister's ready acquiescence. + +“I hope,” added Mrs. Gardiner, “that no consideration with regard to +this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of +town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go +out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all, +unless he really comes to see her.” + +“And _that_ is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his +friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such +a part of London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may +perhaps have _heard_ of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he +would hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its +impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley +never stirs without him.” + +“So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane +correspond with his sister? _She_ will not be able to help calling.” + +“She will drop the acquaintance entirely.” + +But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this +point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being +withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which +convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely +hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that +his affection might be reanimated, and the influence of his friends +successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's +attractions. + +Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the +Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time, than as she +hoped by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother, +she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of +seeing him. + +The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the Phillipses, +the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its +engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment +of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family +dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always +made part of it--of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and +on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's +warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, +from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference +of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and +she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left +Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such +an attachment. + +To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, +unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, +before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very +part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many +acquaintances in common; and though Wickham had been little there since +the death of Darcy's father, it was yet in his power to give her fresher +intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of +procuring. + +Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by +character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject +of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute +description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of +praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both +him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's +treatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman's +reputed disposition when quite a lad which might agree with it, and +was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam +Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given +on the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after +honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on: + +“You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because +you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking +openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve +yourself or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want +of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against +_him_; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he +ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is, you +must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all +expect you to use it. Your father would depend on _your_ resolution and +good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father.” + +“My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed.” + +“Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise.” + +“Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of +myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I +can prevent it.” + +“Elizabeth, you are not serious now.” + +“I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with +Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, +the most agreeable man I ever saw--and if he becomes really attached to +me--I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence +of it. Oh! _that_ abominable Mr. Darcy! My father's opinion of me does +me the greatest honour, and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My +father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I +should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but +since we see every day that where there is affection, young people +are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into +engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many +of my fellow-creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it +would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not +to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first +object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, +I will do my best.” + +“Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very +often. At least, you should not _remind_ your mother of inviting him.” + +“As I did the other day,” said Elizabeth with a conscious smile: “very +true, it will be wise in me to refrain from _that_. But do not imagine +that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been +so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the +necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my +honour, I will try to do what I think to be the wisest; and now I hope +you are satisfied.” + +Her aunt assured her that she was, and Elizabeth having thanked her for +the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice +being given on such a point, without being resented. + +Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted +by the Gardiners and Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lucases, +his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was +now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think +it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say, in an ill-natured tone, that +she “_wished_ they might be happy.” Thursday was to be the wedding day, +and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she +rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and +reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her +out of the room. As they went downstairs together, Charlotte said: + +“I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza.” + +“_That_ you certainly shall.” + +“And I have another favour to ask you. Will you come and see me?” + +“We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire.” + +“I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to +come to Hunsford.” + +Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the +visit. + +“My father and Maria are coming to me in March,” added Charlotte, “and I +hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as +welcome as either of them.” + +The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from +the church door, and everybody had as much to say, or to hear, on +the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their +correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that +it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never +address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, +and though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the +sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters +were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be +curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would +like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to +be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte +expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She +wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing +which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and +roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most +friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and +Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait +for her own visit there to know the rest. + +Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their +safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it +would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. + +Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience +generally is. Jane had been a week in town without either seeing or +hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that +her last letter to her friend from Longbourn had by some accident been +lost. + +“My aunt,” she continued, “is going to-morrow into that part of the +town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street.” + +She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. +“I did not think Caroline in spirits,” were her words, “but she was very +glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming +to London. I was right, therefore, my last letter had never reached +her. I inquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much +engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that +Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was +not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall +see them soon here.” + +Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that +accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. + +Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to +persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be +blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning +for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the +visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, +the alteration of her manner would allow Jane to deceive herself no +longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister will +prove what she felt. + +“My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her +better judgement, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been +entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my dear sister, +though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I +still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was +as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for +wishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were to +happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Caroline did not +return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I +receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that +she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal apology, for not +calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was +in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was +perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, +though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out +as she did; I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on +her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting +wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the +cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and though _we_ know +this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily +account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to +his sister, whatever anxiety she must feel on his behalf is natural and +amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, +because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met, long ago. +He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said +herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she +wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I +cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should +be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity +in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, +and think only of what will make me happy--your affection, and the +invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very +soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield +again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better +not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts +from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and +Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.--Yours, etc.” + +This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she +considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. +All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not +even wish for a renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on +every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible +advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr. +Darcy's sister, as by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly +regret what he had thrown away. + +Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise +concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth +had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to +herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, +he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to +see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. +Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied +with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune +permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most +remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself +agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than +in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. +Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to +suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was +ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very +sincerely wish him happy. + +All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the +circumstances, she thus went on: “I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that +I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure +and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and +wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial +towards _him_; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find +out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to +think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My +watchfulness has been effectual; and though I certainly should be a more +interesting object to all my acquaintances were I distractedly in love +with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. +Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take +his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the +ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that +handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.” + + + +Chapter 27 + + +With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise +diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and +sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take +Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of +going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan +and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure +as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing +Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There +was novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such +uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change +was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her +a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have +been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, +and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was +to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement +of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became +perfect as plan could be. + +The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, +and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he +told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter. + +The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on +his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that +Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the +first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner +of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of +what she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their +opinion of her--their opinion of everybody--would always coincide, there +was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to +him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that, +whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable +and pleasing. + +Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her +think him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a +good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say +that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much +delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but +she had known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of +the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were +worn out, like his information. + +It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early +as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's +door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when +they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth, +looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and +lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, +whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to +wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen +her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and +kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and +shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres. + +Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first object was her +sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to +her minute inquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her +spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, +to hope that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the +particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch Street, and +repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and +herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the +acquaintance. + +Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, and +complimented her on bearing it so well. + +“But my dear Elizabeth,” she added, “what sort of girl is Miss King? I +should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.” + +“Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs, +between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end, +and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me, +because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get +a girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is +mercenary.” + +“If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know +what to think.” + +“She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.” + +“But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather's death +made her mistress of this fortune.” + +“No--why should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain _my_ +affections because I had no money, what occasion could there be for +making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally +poor?” + +“But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her +so soon after this event.” + +“A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant +decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it, +why should _we_?” + +“_Her_ not objecting does not justify _him_. It only shows her being +deficient in something herself--sense or feeling.” + +“Well,” cried Elizabeth, “have it as you choose. _He_ shall be +mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish.” + +“No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know, +to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire.” + +“Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in +Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not +much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrow +where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has +neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones +worth knowing, after all.” + +“Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment.” + +Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the +unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in +a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer. + +“We have not determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs. Gardiner, +“but, perhaps, to the Lakes.” + +No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her +acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. “Oh, my dear, +dear aunt,” she rapturously cried, “what delight! what felicity! You +give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What +are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport +we shall spend! And when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other +travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We +_will_ know where we have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. +Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our +imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene, +will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. Let _our_ +first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of +travellers.” + + + +Chapter 28 + + +Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to +Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had +seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, +and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight. + +When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in +search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. +The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth +smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. + +At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the +road, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge, +everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte +appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate which +led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of +the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing +at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the +liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with +coming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw +instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; +his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some +minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all her +family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the +neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they +were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious +formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's +offers of refreshment. + +Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help +in fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its +aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, +as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But +though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to +gratify him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked with wonder at +her friend that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion. +When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be +ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her +eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but +in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to +admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to +the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had +happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the +garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of +which he attended himself. To work in this garden was one of his most +respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance +with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and +owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way +through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an +interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out +with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the +fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in +the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which +the country or kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the +prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered +the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome +modern building, well situated on rising ground. + +From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows; +but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white +frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte +took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, +probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's +help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything +was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which +Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be +forgotten, there was really an air of great comfort throughout, and by +Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often +forgotten. + +She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It +was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining +in, observed: + +“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine +de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will +be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I +doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice +when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying she +will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she +honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is +charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed +to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I +_should_ say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several.” + +“Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed,” added +Charlotte, “and a most attentive neighbour.” + +“Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of +woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference.” + +The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, +and telling again what had already been written; and when it closed, +Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon +Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, +and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it +was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit +would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious +interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with +Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all. + +About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready +for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in +confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running +up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened +the door and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with +agitation, cried out-- + +“Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for +there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make +haste, and come down this moment.” + +Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, +and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in +quest of this wonder; It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the +garden gate. + +“And is this all?” cried Elizabeth. “I expected at least that the pigs +were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her +daughter.” + +“La! my dear,” said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, “it is not +Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them; +the other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little +creature. Who would have thought that she could be so thin and small?” + +“She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. +Why does she not come in?” + +“Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours +when Miss de Bourgh comes in.” + +“I like her appearance,” said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. “She +looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will +make him a very proper wife.” + +Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation +with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was +stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness +before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss de Bourgh looked that +way. + +At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and +the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two +girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which +Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked +to dine at Rosings the next day. + + + +Chapter 29 + + +Mr. Collins's triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete. +The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering +visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his +wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity +of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady +Catherine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough. + +“I confess,” said he, “that I should not have been at all surprised by +her ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at +Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it +would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who +could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there +(an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so immediately +after your arrival!” + +“I am the less surprised at what has happened,” replied Sir William, +“from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which +my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such +instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon.” + +Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their +visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what +they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and +so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them. + +When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth-- + +“Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady +Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which +becomes herself and her daughter. I would advise you merely to put on +whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest--there is no occasion +for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you +for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank +preserved.” + +While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different +doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much +objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of +her ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas +who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her +introduction at Rosings with as much apprehension as her father had done +to his presentation at St. James's. + +As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a +mile across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and +Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such +raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but +slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the +house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally +cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh. + +When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every +moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm. +Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady +Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or +miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thought +she could witness without trepidation. + +From the entrance-hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a +rapturous air, the fine proportion and the finished ornaments, they +followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady +Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her ladyship, +with great condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had +settled it with her husband that the office of introduction should +be hers, it was performed in a proper manner, without any of those +apologies and thanks which he would have thought necessary. + +In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so completely +awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage +enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word; +and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge +of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself +quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her +composedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked +features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not +conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her +visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by +silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone, +as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to +Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, she +believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he represented. + +When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment +she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the +daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment at her +being so thin and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any +likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; her +features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very +little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance +there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening +to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before +her eyes. + +After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to +admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties, +and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth +looking at in the summer. + +The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants and +all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he had +likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her +ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish +nothing greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted +alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir +William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law +said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. +But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and +gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved +a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth +was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated +between Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh--the former of whom was engaged in +listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all +dinner-time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little +Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing +she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the +gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire. + +When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to +be done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any +intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every +subject in so decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used to +have her judgement controverted. She inquired into Charlotte's domestic +concerns familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice as +to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be +regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the +care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was +beneath this great lady's attention, which could furnish her with an +occasion of dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse +with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and +Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew +the least, and who she observed to Mrs. Collins was a very genteel, +pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different times, how many sisters +she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of +them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they +had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been +her mother's maiden name? Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of +her questions but answered them very composedly. Lady Catherine then +observed, + +“Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your +sake,” turning to Charlotte, “I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no +occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought +necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family. Do you play and sing, Miss +Bennet?” + +“A little.” + +“Oh! then--some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our +instrument is a capital one, probably superior to----You shall try it +some day. Do your sisters play and sing?” + +“One of them does.” + +“Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss +Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do +you draw?” + +“No, not at all.” + +“What, none of you?” + +“Not one.” + +“That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother +should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters.” + +“My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London.” + +“Has your governess left you?” + +“We never had any governess.” + +“No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home +without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must +have been quite a slave to your education.” + +Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as she assured her that had not been +the case. + +“Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess, you +must have been neglected.” + +“Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as +wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to +read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be +idle, certainly might.” + +“Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if I had +known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage +one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady +and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is +wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that +way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces +of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and +it was but the other day that I recommended another young person, +who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite +delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf's +calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. 'Lady +Catherine,' said she, 'you have given me a treasure.' Are any of your +younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?” + +“Yes, ma'am, all.” + +“All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The +younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters +must be very young?” + +“Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be +much in company. But really, ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon +younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and +amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to +marry early. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth +as the first. And to be kept back on _such_ a motive! I think it would +not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.” + +“Upon my word,” said her ladyship, “you give your opinion very decidedly +for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?” + +“With three younger sisters grown up,” replied Elizabeth, smiling, “your +ladyship can hardly expect me to own it.” + +Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; +and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever +dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence. + +“You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure, therefore you need not +conceal your age.” + +“I am not one-and-twenty.” + +When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card-tables +were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat +down to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the +two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her +party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was +uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson +expressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or +having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the +other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--stating the mistakes +of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins +was employed in agreeing to everything her ladyship said, thanking her +for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many. +Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes +and noble names. + +When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose, +the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins, +gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. The party then gathered +round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were +to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by +the arrival of the coach; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr. +Collins's side and as many bows on Sir William's they departed. As soon +as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin +to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for +Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But her +commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy +Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her ladyship's praise +into his own hands. + + + +Chapter 30 + + +Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford, but his visit was long +enough to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled, +and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not +often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his +morning to driving him out in his gig, and showing him the country; but +when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, +and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her +cousin by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast +and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden or in +reading and writing, and looking out of the window in his own book-room, +which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. +Elizabeth had at first rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer +the dining-parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a +more pleasant aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent +reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been +much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and +she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement. + +From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and +were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went +along, and how often especially Miss de Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, +which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened +almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and +had a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever +prevailed upon to get out. + +Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and +not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; +and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings +to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many +hours. Now and then they were honoured with a call from her ladyship, +and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during +these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, +and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement +of the furniture; or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she +accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding +out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family. + +Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in +commission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistrate +in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her +by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to +be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the +village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold +them into harmony and plenty. + +The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; +and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one +card-table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart +of the first. Their other engagements were few, as the style of living +in the neighbourhood in general was beyond Mr. Collins's reach. This, +however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time +comfortably enough; there were half-hours of pleasant conversation with +Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year that she had +often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she +frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was +along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was +a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and +where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity. + +In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. +Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an +addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be +important. Elizabeth had heard soon after her arrival that Mr. Darcy was +expected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were not +many of her acquaintances whom she did not prefer, his coming would +furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and +she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him +were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently +destined by Lady Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest +satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and +seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by +Miss Lucas and herself. + +His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage; for Mr. Collins was walking +the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, +in order to have the earliest assurance of it, and after making his +bow as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great +intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his +respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for +Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of +his uncle Lord ----, and, to the great surprise of all the party, when +Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen +them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running +into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding: + +“I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would +never have come so soon to wait upon me.” + +Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, +before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly +afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, +who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and +address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been +used to look in Hertfordshire--paid his compliments, with his usual +reserve, to Mrs. Collins, and whatever might be his feelings toward her +friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely +curtseyed to him without saying a word. + +Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the +readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but +his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and +garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. +At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of +Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual +way, and after a moment's pause, added: + +“My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never +happened to see her there?” + +She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see +whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between +the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he +answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The +subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went +away. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the Parsonage, +and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasures +of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they +received any invitation thither--for while there were visitors in the +house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, +almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by +such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to +come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little +of Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the +Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had seen +only at church. + +The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined +the party in Lady Catherine's drawing-room. Her ladyship received +them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so +acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, +almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, +much more than to any other person in the room. + +Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a +welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had +moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and +talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying +at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so +well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much +spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, +as well as of Mr. Darcy. _His_ eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned +towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship, after a +while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not +scruple to call out: + +“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking +of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.” + +“We are speaking of music, madam,” said he, when no longer able to avoid +a reply. + +“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I +must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. +There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment +of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, +I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health +had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed +delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?” + +Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency. + +“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her,” said Lady +Catherine; “and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel +if she does not practice a good deal.” + +“I assure you, madam,” he replied, “that she does not need such advice. +She practises very constantly.” + +“So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write +to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often +tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without +constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she +will never play really well unless she practises more; and though Mrs. +Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told +her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. +Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part +of the house.” + +Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill-breeding, and made +no answer. + +When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having +promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He +drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then +talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away +from her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte +stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's +countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first +convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said: + +“You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear +me? I will not be alarmed though your sister _does_ play so well. There +is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the +will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate +me.” + +“I shall not say you are mistaken,” he replied, “because you could not +really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have +had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find +great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are +not your own.” + +Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to +Colonel Fitzwilliam, “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of +me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky +in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part +of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of +credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all +that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me leave to +say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such +things may come out as will shock your relations to hear.” + +“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly. + +“Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,” cried Colonel +Fitzwilliam. “I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.” + +“You shall hear then--but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. +The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, +was at a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced +only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain +knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a +partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.” + +“I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly +beyond my own party.” + +“True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel +Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.” + +“Perhaps,” said Darcy, “I should have judged better, had I sought an +introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.” + +“Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, still +addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and +education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend +himself to strangers?” + +“I can answer your question,” said Fitzwilliam, “without applying to +him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.” + +“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, +“of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot +catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their +concerns, as I often see done.” + +“My fingers,” said Elizabeth, “do not move over this instrument in the +masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same +force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I +have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I will not take the +trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe _my_ fingers as +capable as any other woman's of superior execution.” + +Darcy smiled and said, “You are perfectly right. You have employed your +time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can +think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.” + +Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know +what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. +Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said +to Darcy: + +“Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practised more, and +could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion +of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have +been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.” + +Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his +cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she +discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss +de Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have +been just as likely to marry _her_, had she been his relation. + +Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing +with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received +them with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of the +gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was +ready to take them all home. + + + +Chapter 32 + + +Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane +while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, +when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a +visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to +be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her +half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, +when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and +Mr. Darcy only, entered the room. + +He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his +intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies were +to be within. + +They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made, +seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely +necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence +recollecting _when_ she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and +feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty +departure, she observed: + +“How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! +It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you +all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day +before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?” + +“Perfectly so, I thank you.” + +She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short +pause added: + +“I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever +returning to Netherfield again?” + +“I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend +very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and +is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually +increasing.” + +“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for +the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we +might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did +not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as +for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same +principle.” + +“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up as +soon as any eligible purchase offers.” + +Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his +friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the +trouble of finding a subject to him. + +He took the hint, and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable +house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. +Collins first came to Hunsford.” + +“I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her +kindness on a more grateful object.” + +“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.” + +“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one +of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made +him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though +I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the +wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a +prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her.” + +“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a +distance of her own family and friends.” + +“An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.” + +“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's +journey. Yes, I call it a _very_ easy distance.” + +“I should never have considered the distance as one of the _advantages_ +of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins +was settled _near_ her family.” + +“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond +the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.” + +As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she +understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and +Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered: + +“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her +family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many +varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of +travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the +case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not +such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my +friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_ +the present distance.” + +Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “_You_ cannot +have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have +been always at Longbourn.” + +Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of +feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and +glancing over it, said, in a colder voice: + +“Are you pleased with Kent?” + +A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side +calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte +and her sister, just returned from her walk. The tete-a-tete surprised +them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding +on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying +much to anybody, went away. + +“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was +gone. “My dear, Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never +have called us in this familiar way.” + +But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, +even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various +conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from +the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable +from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there +was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot +always be within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the +pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the +two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither +almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes +separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their +aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he +had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended +him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in +being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her +former favourite George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw +there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners, +she believed he might have the best informed mind. + +But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult +to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there +ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, +it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice +to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really +animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel +Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was +generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told +her; and as she would liked to have believed this change the effect +of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself +seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at +Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He +certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that +look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often +doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it +seemed nothing but absence of mind. + +She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his +being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. +Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of +raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her +opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would +vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power. + + +In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying +Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; he +certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, +to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage +in the church, and his cousin could have none at all. + + + +Chapter 33 + + +More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, +unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the +mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to +prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that +it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, +therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like +wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was +not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, +but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He +never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking +or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third +rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions--about +her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her +opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of +Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to +expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying +_there_ too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel +Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must +mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed +her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the +pales opposite the Parsonage. + +She was engaged one day as she walked, in perusing Jane's last letter, +and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not written in +spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw +on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the +letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said: + +“I did not know before that you ever walked this way.” + +“I have been making the tour of the park,” he replied, “as I generally +do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are +you going much farther?” + +“No, I should have turned in a moment.” + +And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage +together. + +“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?” said she. + +“Yes--if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He +arranges the business just as he pleases.” + +“And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least +pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems +more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.” + +“He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. +“But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it +than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak +feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and +dependence.” + +“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of +either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and +dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going +wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?” + +“These are home questions--and perhaps I cannot say that I have +experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater +weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where +they like.” + +“Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often +do.” + +“Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many +in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to +money.” + +“Is this,” thought Elizabeth, “meant for me?” and she coloured at the +idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, “And pray, what +is the usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is +very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.” + +He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt +a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, +she soon afterwards said: + +“I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of +having someone at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a +lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well +for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he +likes with her.” + +“No,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that is an advantage which he must +divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.” + +“Are you indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your +charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a +little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she +may like to have her own way.” + +As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner +in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to +give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other +got pretty near the truth. She directly replied: + +“You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare +say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a +very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and +Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them.” + +“I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man--he +is a great friend of Darcy's.” + +“Oh! yes,” said Elizabeth drily; “Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. +Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.” + +“Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy _does_ take care of him in +those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in +our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to +him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that +Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.” + +“What is it you mean?” + +“It is a circumstance which Darcy could not wish to be generally known, +because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an +unpleasant thing.” + +“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.” + +“And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be +Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself +on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most +imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other +particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing +him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from +knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.” + +“Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for this interference?” + +“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the +lady.” + +“And what arts did he use to separate them?” + +“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He +only told me what I have now told you.” + +Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with +indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she +was so thoughtful. + +“I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your +cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?” + +“You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?” + +“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his +friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgement alone, he was to +determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy. +But,” she continued, recollecting herself, “as we know none of the +particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed +that there was much affection in the case.” + +“That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Fitzwilliam, “but it is a +lessening of the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly.” + +This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture +of Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and +therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent +matters until they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room, +as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption +of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other +people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There +could not exist in the world _two_ men over whom Mr. Darcy could have +such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures +taken to separate Bingley and Jane she had never doubted; but she had +always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement +of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, _he_ was +the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had +suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while +every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the +world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted. + +“There were some very strong objections against the lady,” were Colonel +Fitzwilliam's words; and those strong objections probably were, her +having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in +business in London. + +“To Jane herself,” she exclaimed, “there could be no possibility of +objection; all loveliness and goodness as she is!--her understanding +excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither +could anything be urged against my father, who, though with some +peculiarities, has abilities Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and +respectability which he will probably never reach.” When she thought of +her mother, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allow +that any objections _there_ had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose +pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of +importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense; +and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly governed +by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. +Bingley for his sister. + +The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned, brought on a +headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening, that, added to +her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her +cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins, +seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go and as much +as possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins +could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather +displeased by her staying at home. + + + +Chapter 34 + + +When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself +as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the +examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her +being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any +revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. +But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that +cheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which, +proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindly +disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth +noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an +attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's +shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her +a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation +to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the +next--and, a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should +herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of +her spirits, by all that affection could do. + +She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that +his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear +that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not +mean to be unhappy about him. + +While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the +door-bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its +being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in +the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. +But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently +affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the +room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her +health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. +She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and +then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but +said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her +in an agitated manner, and thus began: + +“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be +repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love +you.” + +Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, +doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; +and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, +immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides +those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the +subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority--of +its being a degradation--of the family obstacles which had always +opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to +the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his +suit. + +In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to +the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did +not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to +receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she +lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to +answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with +representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite +of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with +expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of +his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt +of a favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but +his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could +only exasperate farther, and, when he ceased, the colour rose into her +cheeks, and she said: + +“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to +express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however +unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should +be felt, and if I could _feel_ gratitude, I would now thank you. But I +cannot--I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly +bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to +anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be +of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented +the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in +overcoming it after this explanation.” + +Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed +on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than +surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance +of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the +appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed +himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings +dreadful. At length, with a voice of forced calmness, he said: + +“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! +I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little _endeavour_ at +civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.” + +“I might as well inquire,” replied she, “why with so evident a desire +of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me +against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? +Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I have +other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against +you--had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you +think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has +been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most +beloved sister?” + +As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion +was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she +continued: + +“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can +excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted _there_. You dare not, +you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means +of dividing them from each other--of exposing one to the censure of the +world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for +disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest +kind.” + +She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening +with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. +He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity. + +“Can you deny that you have done it?” she repeated. + +With assumed tranquillity he then replied: “I have no wish of denying +that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your +sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards _him_ I have been +kinder than towards myself.” + +Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, +but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her. + +“But it is not merely this affair,” she continued, “on which my dislike +is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was +decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received +many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to +say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? +or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?” + +“You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,” said Darcy, +in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour. + +“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an +interest in him?” + +“His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy contemptuously; “yes, his misfortunes +have been great indeed.” + +“And of your infliction,” cried Elizabeth with energy. “You have reduced +him to his present state of poverty--comparative poverty. You have +withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for +him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence +which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! +and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and +ridicule.” + +“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, +“is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! +I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this +calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in +his walk, and turning towards her, “these offenses might have been +overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the +scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These +bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater +policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of +my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by +reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. +Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and +just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your +connections?--to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose +condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?” + +Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to +the utmost to speak with composure when she said: + +“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your +declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern +which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more +gentlemanlike manner.” + +She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued: + +“You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that +would have tempted me to accept it.” + +Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an +expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on: + +“From the very beginning--from the first moment, I may almost say--of +my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest +belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of +the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of +disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a +dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the +last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.” + +“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your +feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. +Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best +wishes for your health and happiness.” + +And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him +the next moment open the front door and quit the house. + +The tumult of her mind, was now painfully great. She knew not how +to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for +half-an-hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, +was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of +marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for +so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of +all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying +her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his +own case--was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired +unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable +pride--his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to +Jane--his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could +not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. +Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon +overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for +a moment excited. She continued in very agitated reflections till the +sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to +encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room. + + + +Chapter 35 + + +Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations +which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the +surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of anything +else; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon after +breakfast, to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding +directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's +sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, +she turned up the lane, which led farther from the turnpike-road. The +park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one +of the gates into the ground. + +After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was +tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and +look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had +made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the +verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, +when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which +edged the park; he was moving that way; and, fearful of its being Mr. +Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now +near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced +her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, though +in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the +gate. He had by that time reached it also, and, holding out a letter, +which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, +“I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. +Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?” And then, with a +slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight. + +With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, +Elizabeth opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, +perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter-paper, written +quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise +full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated +from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows:-- + +“Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension +of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those +offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any +intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes +which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the +effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion, +should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written +and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand +your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I +demand it of your justice. + +“Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal +magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, +that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley +from your sister, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various +claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate +prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Wilfully and +wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged +favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other +dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect +its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young +persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could +bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last +night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope +to be in the future secured, when the following account of my actions +and their motives has been read. If, in the explanation of them, which +is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which +may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity +must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd. + +“I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with +others, that Bingley preferred your elder sister to any other young +woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance +at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious +attachment. I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I +had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir +William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to +your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. +He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could +be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour +attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss +Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also +watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, +but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced +from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions +with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of +sentiment. If _you_ have not been mistaken here, _I_ must have been +in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter +probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict +pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not +scruple to assert, that the serenity of your sister's countenance and +air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction +that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be +easily touched. That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is +certain--but I will venture to say that my investigation and decisions +are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe +her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial +conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the +marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have +the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of +connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But +there were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still +existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had +myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before +me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your +mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that +total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by +herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your +father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern +for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this +representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to +have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, +is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your elder sister, than +it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say +farther that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties +was confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have led +me before, to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy +connection. He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as +you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning. + +“The part which I acted is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness +had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was +soon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in +detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in +London. We accordingly went--and there I readily engaged in the office +of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I +described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance +might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose +that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been +seconded by the assurance that I hesitated not in giving, of your +sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his +affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great +natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his +own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was +no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into +Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the +work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There +is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not +reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the +measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in +town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley; but her +brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without +ill consequence is perhaps probable; but his regard did not appear to me +enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this +concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it +was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no +other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it +was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may to +you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn +them. + +“With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured +Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his +connection with my family. Of what he has _particularly_ accused me I +am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more +than one witness of undoubted veracity. + +“Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many +years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good +conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to +be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his +kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at +school, and afterwards at Cambridge--most important assistance, as his +own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have +been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only +fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always engaging; he +had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be +his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is +many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different +manner. The vicious propensities--the want of principle, which he was +careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape +the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, +and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. +Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain--to what degree +you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham +has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from +unfolding his real character--it adds even another motive. + +“My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to +Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly +recommended it to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner +that his profession might allow--and if he took orders, desired that a +valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There +was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long +survive mine, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham +wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, +he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more +immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he +could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying +law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would +be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed +him to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to +his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman; the +business was therefore soon settled--he resigned all claim to assistance +in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to +receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection +between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him +to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town I believe he chiefly +lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free +from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. +For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the +incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to +me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured +me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He +had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely +resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in +question--of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was +well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not +have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame +me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every +repetition to it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of +his circumstances--and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me +to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period every +appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived I know not. But +last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. + +“I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, +and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold +to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your +secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to +the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. +About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed +for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided +over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by +design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him +and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and +by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, +whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to +her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and +to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her +excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed +the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two +before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the +idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as +a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and +how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented +any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place +immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. +Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which +is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of +revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have +been complete indeed. + +“This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have +been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as +false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. +Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he +had imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered +at. Ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either, +detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in +your inclination. + +“You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night; but +I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to +be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more +particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our +near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of +the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted +with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of _me_ +should make _my_ assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by +the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be +the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some +opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the +morning. I will only add, God bless you. + +“FITZWILLIAM DARCY” + + + +Chapter 36 + + +If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to +contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of +its contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly +she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. +Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did +she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power; +and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation +to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong +prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what +had happened at Netherfield. She read with an eagerness which hardly +left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the +next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of +the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister's insensibility she +instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst +objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing +him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied +her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and +insolence. + +But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham--when +she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which, +if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which +bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself--her +feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. +Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished +to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, “This must be false! +This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!”--and when she had +gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the +last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not +regard it, that she would never look in it again. + +In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on +nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter +was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she +again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and +commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. +The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what +he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though +she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own +words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the +will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living +was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was +impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the +other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did +not err. But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the +particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions +to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three +thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down +the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be +impartiality--deliberated on the probability of each statement--but with +little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read +on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had +believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to +render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a +turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole. + +The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at +Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could +bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his +entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the +persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, +had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life +nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As +to his real character, had information been in her power, she had +never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had +established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried +to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of +integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of +Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those +casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy +had described as the idleness and vice of many years' continuance. But +no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before +her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more +substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and +the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After +pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to +read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss +Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel +Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was +referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam +himself--from whom she had previously received the information of his +near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no +reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to +him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and +at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never +have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his +cousin's corroboration. + +She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation +between Wickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Phillips's. +Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was _now_ +struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and +wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting +himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions +with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear +of seeing Mr. Darcy--that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that +_he_ should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball +the very next week. She remembered also that, till the Netherfield +family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but +herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed; +that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's +character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would +always prevent his exposing the son. + +How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! +His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and +hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer +the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. +His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had +either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying +his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most +incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter +and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not +but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago +asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as +were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their +acquaintance--an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much +together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways--seen anything +that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust--anything that spoke him +of irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was +esteemed and valued--that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a +brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his +sister as to prove him capable of _some_ amiable feeling; that had his +actions been what Mr. Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of +everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and +that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man +as Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible. + +She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham +could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, +absurd. + +“How despicably I have acted!” she cried; “I, who have prided myself +on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have +often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified +my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this +discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could +not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my +folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect +of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted +prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were +concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.” + +From herself to Jane--from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line +which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation +_there_ had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. Widely +different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that +credit to his assertions in one instance, which she had been obliged to +give in the other? He declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of her +sister's attachment; and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's +opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his +description of Jane. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were +little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air +and manner not often united with great sensibility. + +When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were +mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her sense +of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly +for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as +having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first +disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind +than on hers. + +The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, +but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been +self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered +that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest +relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt +by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she +had ever known before. + +After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every +variety of thought--re-considering events, determining probabilities, +and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and +so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made +her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish +of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such +reflections as must make her unfit for conversation. + +She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each +called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes, to take +leave--but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least +an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her +till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just _affect_ concern +in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no +longer an object; she could think only of her letter. + + + +Chapter 37 + + +The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning, and Mr. Collins having +been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was +able to bring home the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in very +good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the +melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then +hastened, to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return +brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship, +importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of +having them all to dine with her. + +Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that, had +she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as +her future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her +ladyship's indignation would have been. “What would she have said? how +would she have behaved?” were questions with which she amused herself. + +Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. “I assure +you, I feel it exceedingly,” said Lady Catherine; “I believe no one +feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly +attached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached to +me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The +dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy +seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His +attachment to Rosings certainly increases.” + +Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which +were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter. + +Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of +spirits, and immediately accounting for it by herself, by supposing that +she did not like to go home again so soon, she added: + +“But if that is the case, you must write to your mother and beg that +you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your +company, I am sure.” + +“I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation,” replied +Elizabeth, “but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town +next Saturday.” + +“Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected +you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There +can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly +spare you for another fortnight.” + +“But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return.” + +“Oh! your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters +are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay +another _month_ complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as +far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and as +Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there will be very good room +for one of you--and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I +should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large.” + +“You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our +original plan.” + +Lady Catherine seemed resigned. “Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant +with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea +of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper. +You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in +the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly +guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my +niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her +having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of +Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with +propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those +things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I +am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be +discreditable to _you_ to let them go alone.” + +“My uncle is to send a servant for us.” + +“Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you +have somebody who thinks of these things. Where shall you change horses? +Oh! Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be +attended to.” + +Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, +and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, +which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so +occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be +reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it +as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary +walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant +recollections. + +Mr. Darcy's letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She +studied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were at +times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, +she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly +she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against +herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. +His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she +could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, +or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past +behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in +the unhappy defects of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin. +They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at +them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his +youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right +herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently +united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine +and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, +what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, +irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always +affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would +scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While +there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while +Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there +forever. + +Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevailing concern; and Mr. Darcy's +explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion, +heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved +to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any +could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How +grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every +respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had +been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family! + +When to these recollections was added the development of Wickham's +character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had +seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it +almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful. + +Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of +her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent +there; and her ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars of +their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, +and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right +way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the +work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh. + +When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them +a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year; +and Miss de Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her +hand to both. + + + +Chapter 38 + + +On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few +minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of +paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary. + +“I know not, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “whether Mrs. Collins has yet +expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us; but I am very +certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for +it. The favour of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We +know how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. Our plain +manner of living, our small rooms and few domestics, and the little we +see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like +yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension, +and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending +your time unpleasantly.” + +Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She +had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with +Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make _her_ +feel the obliged. Mr. Collins was gratified, and with a more smiling +solemnity replied: + +“It gives me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not +disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most fortunately +having it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and, +from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of varying the +humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that your Hunsford +visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to +Lady Catherine's family is indeed the sort of extraordinary advantage +and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a footing we are. You +see how continually we are engaged there. In truth I must acknowledge +that, with all the disadvantages of this humble parsonage, I should +not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion, while they are +sharers of our intimacy at Rosings.” + +Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was +obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility +and truth in a few short sentences. + +“You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into +Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself at least that you will +be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins you +have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear +that your friend has drawn an unfortunate--but on this point it will be +as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, +that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in +marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of +thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of +character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each +other.” + +Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was +the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed +and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to +have the recital of them interrupted by the lady from whom they sprang. +Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such society! But she +had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that +her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her +home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their +dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms. + +At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels +placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate +parting between the friends, Elizabeth was attended to the carriage by +Mr. Collins, and as they walked down the garden he was commissioning her +with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks +for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his +compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed her +in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed, +when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had +hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies at Rosings. + +“But,” he added, “you will of course wish to have your humble respects +delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you +while you have been here.” + +Elizabeth made no objection; the door was then allowed to be shut, and +the carriage drove off. + +“Good gracious!” cried Maria, after a few minutes' silence, “it seems +but a day or two since we first came! and yet how many things have +happened!” + +“A great many indeed,” said her companion with a sigh. + +“We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! +How much I shall have to tell!” + +Elizabeth added privately, “And how much I shall have to conceal!” + +Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and +within four hours of their leaving Hunsford they reached Mr. Gardiner's +house, where they were to remain a few days. + +Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her +spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of her +aunt had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home with her, and at +Longbourn there would be leisure enough for observation. + +It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for +Longbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. Darcy's proposals. To know +that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish +Jane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own +vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation +to openness as nothing could have conquered but the state of indecision +in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate; +and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried +into repeating something of Bingley which might only grieve her sister +further. + + + +Chapter 39 + + +It was the second week in May, in which the three young ladies set out +together from Gracechurch Street for the town of ----, in Hertfordshire; +and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet's carriage +was to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman's +punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room up stairs. +These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed +in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, and +dressing a salad and cucumber. + +After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set +out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming, +“Is not this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?” + +“And we mean to treat you all,” added Lydia, “but you must lend us the +money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.” Then, showing +her purchases--“Look here, I have bought this bonnet. I do not think +it is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall +pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any +better.” + +And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect +unconcern, “Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and +when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I +think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what +one wears this summer, after the ----shire have left Meryton, and they +are going in a fortnight.” + +“Are they indeed!” cried Elizabeth, with the greatest satisfaction. + +“They are going to be encamped near Brighton; and I do so want papa to +take us all there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme; +and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mamma would like to +go too of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall +have!” + +“Yes,” thought Elizabeth, “_that_ would be a delightful scheme indeed, +and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton, and a whole +campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor +regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!” + +“Now I have got some news for you,” said Lydia, as they sat down at +table. “What do you think? It is excellent news--capital news--and about +a certain person we all like!” + +Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told he need +not stay. Lydia laughed, and said: + +“Aye, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the +waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse +things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad +he is gone. I never saw such a long chin in my life. Well, but now for +my news; it is about dear Wickham; too good for the waiter, is it not? +There is no danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King. There's for you! She +is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool: gone to stay. Wickham is safe.” + +“And Mary King is safe!” added Elizabeth; “safe from a connection +imprudent as to fortune.” + +“She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him.” + +“But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side,” said Jane. + +“I am sure there is not on _his_. I will answer for it, he never cared +three straws about her--who could about such a nasty little freckled +thing?” + +Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of such +coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the _sentiment_ +was little other than her own breast had harboured and fancied liberal! + +As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was +ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their +boxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty's and +Lydia's purchases, were seated in it. + +“How nicely we are all crammed in,” cried Lydia. “I am glad I bought my +bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbox! Well, now +let us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the way +home. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all +since you went away. Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any +flirting? I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband +before you came back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare. +She is almost three-and-twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not +being married before three-and-twenty! My aunt Phillips wants you so to +get husbands, you can't think. She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr. +Collins; but _I_ do not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord! +how I should like to be married before any of you; and then I would +chaperon you about to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a good piece +of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's. Kitty and me were to spend +the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the +evening; (by the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are _such_ friends!) and so +she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen +was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We +dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes on purpose to pass for a +lady, only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs. +Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow +one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny, +and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they +did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs. +Forster. I thought I should have died. And _that_ made the men suspect +something, and then they soon found out what was the matter.” + +With such kinds of histories of their parties and good jokes, did +Lydia, assisted by Kitty's hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her +companions all the way to Longbourn. Elizabeth listened as little as she +could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Wickham's name. + +Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane +in undiminished beauty; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet +say voluntarily to Elizabeth: + +“I am glad you are come back, Lizzy.” + +Their party in the dining-room was large, for almost all the Lucases +came to meet Maria and hear the news; and various were the subjects that +occupied them: Lady Lucas was inquiring of Maria, after the welfare and +poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was doubly engaged, on one +hand collecting an account of the present fashions from Jane, who sat +some way below her, and, on the other, retailing them all to the younger +Lucases; and Lydia, in a voice rather louder than any other person's, +was enumerating the various pleasures of the morning to anybody who +would hear her. + +“Oh! Mary,” said she, “I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun! +As we went along, Kitty and I drew up the blinds, and pretended there +was nobody in the coach; and I should have gone so all the way, if Kitty +had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we behaved +very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold +luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treated +you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought we never +should have got into the coach. I was ready to die of laughter. And then +we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laughed so loud, that +anybody might have heard us ten miles off!” + +To this Mary very gravely replied, “Far be it from me, my dear sister, +to depreciate such pleasures! They would doubtless be congenial with the +generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for +_me_--I should infinitely prefer a book.” + +But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to +anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all. + +In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk +to Meryton, and to see how everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily +opposed the scheme. It should not be said that the Miss Bennets could +not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers. +There was another reason too for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Mr. +Wickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The +comfort to _her_ of the regiment's approaching removal was indeed beyond +expression. In a fortnight they were to go--and once gone, she hoped +there could be nothing more to plague her on his account. + +She had not been many hours at home before she found that the Brighton +scheme, of which Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was under +frequent discussion between her parents. Elizabeth saw directly that her +father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were +at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often +disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last. + + + +Chapter 40 + + +Elizabeth's impatience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could +no longer be overcome; and at length, resolving to suppress every +particular in which her sister was concerned, and preparing her to be +surprised, she related to her the next morning the chief of the scene +between Mr. Darcy and herself. + +Miss Bennet's astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly +partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly +natural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was +sorry that Mr. Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so +little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the +unhappiness which her sister's refusal must have given him. + +“His being so sure of succeeding was wrong,” said she, “and certainly +ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his +disappointment!” + +“Indeed,” replied Elizabeth, “I am heartily sorry for him; but he has +other feelings, which will probably soon drive away his regard for me. +You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?” + +“Blame you! Oh, no.” + +“But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham?” + +“No--I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did.” + +“But you _will_ know it, when I tell you what happened the very next +day.” + +She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far +as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane! +who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that +so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here +collected in one individual. Nor was Darcy's vindication, though +grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery. +Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and +seek to clear the one without involving the other. + +“This will not do,” said Elizabeth; “you never will be able to make both +of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied +with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just +enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting +about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Darcy's; +but you shall do as you choose.” + +It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane. + +“I do not know when I have been more shocked,” said she. “Wickham so +very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy! Dear Lizzy, only +consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and with the +knowledge of your ill opinion, too! and having to relate such a thing +of his sister! It is really too distressing. I am sure you must feel it +so.” + +“Oh! no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so +full of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am +growing every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion +makes me saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will +be as light as a feather.” + +“Poor Wickham! there is such an expression of goodness in his +countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner!” + +“There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those +two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the +appearance of it.” + +“I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the _appearance_ of it as you +used to do.” + +“And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike +to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one's genius, such an +opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually +abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot always be laughing +at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty.” + +“Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat +the matter as you do now.” + +“Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable enough, I may say unhappy. And +with no one to speak to about what I felt, no Jane to comfort me and say +that I had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as I knew I +had! Oh! how I wanted you!” + +“How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions +in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they _do_ appear wholly +undeserved.” + +“Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a most +natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There +is one point on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I +ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintances in general understand +Wickham's character.” + +Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied, “Surely there can be no +occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your opinion?” + +“That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorised me +to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular +relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to +myself; and if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his +conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy +is so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people in +Meryton to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal +to it. Wickham will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify to +anyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out, +and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. At +present I will say nothing about it.” + +“You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for +ever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to +re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate.” + +The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was allayed by this conversation. She had +got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a fortnight, +and was certain of a willing listener in Jane, whenever she might wish +to talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind, +of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not relate the other +half of Mr. Darcy's letter, nor explain to her sister how sincerely she +had been valued by her friend. Here was knowledge in which no one +could partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfect +understanding between the parties could justify her in throwing off +this last encumbrance of mystery. “And then,” said she, “if that very +improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be able to +tell what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. The +liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost all its value!” + +She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real +state of her sister's spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a +very tender affection for Bingley. Having never even fancied herself +in love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment, +and, from her age and disposition, greater steadiness than most first +attachments often boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance, +and prefer him to every other man, that all her good sense, and all her +attention to the feelings of her friends, were requisite to check the +indulgence of those regrets which must have been injurious to her own +health and their tranquillity. + +“Well, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet one day, “what is your opinion _now_ of +this sad business of Jane's? For my part, I am determined never to speak +of it again to anybody. I told my sister Phillips so the other day. But +I cannot find out that Jane saw anything of him in London. Well, he is +a very undeserving young man--and I do not suppose there's the least +chance in the world of her ever getting him now. There is no talk of +his coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I have inquired of +everybody, too, who is likely to know.” + +“I do not believe he will ever live at Netherfield any more.” + +“Oh well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come. Though I +shall always say he used my daughter extremely ill; and if I was her, I +would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will +die of a broken heart; and then he will be sorry for what he has done.” + +But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation, +she made no answer. + +“Well, Lizzy,” continued her mother, soon afterwards, “and so the +Collinses live very comfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope +it will last. And what sort of table do they keep? Charlotte is an +excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her +mother, she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in _their_ +housekeeping, I dare say.” + +“No, nothing at all.” + +“A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes, _they_ will +take care not to outrun their income. _They_ will never be distressed +for money. Well, much good may it do them! And so, I suppose, they often +talk of having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it as +quite their own, I dare say, whenever that happens.” + +“It was a subject which they could not mention before me.” + +“No; it would have been strange if they had; but I make no doubt they +often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an +estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. I should be +ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me.” + + + +Chapter 41 + + +The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was +the last of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies +in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost +universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, +and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very +frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and +Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such +hard-heartedness in any of the family. + +“Good Heaven! what is to become of us? What are we to do?” would they +often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. “How can you be smiling so, +Lizzy?” + +Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what +she had herself endured on a similar occasion, five-and-twenty years +ago. + +“I am sure,” said she, “I cried for two days together when Colonel +Miller's regiment went away. I thought I should have broken my heart.” + +“I am sure I shall break _mine_,” said Lydia. + +“If one could but go to Brighton!” observed Mrs. Bennet. + +“Oh, yes!--if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so +disagreeable.” + +“A little sea-bathing would set me up forever.” + +“And my aunt Phillips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good,” + added Kitty. + +Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through +Longbourn House. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense +of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's +objections; and never had she been so much disposed to pardon his +interference in the views of his friend. + +But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she +received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of +the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a +very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour +and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of +their _three_ months' acquaintance they had been intimate _two_. + +The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, +the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely +to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia +flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's +congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; +whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repined at her fate +in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. + +“I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia,” + said she, “Though I am _not_ her particular friend. I have just as much +right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older.” + +In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make +her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from +exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she +considered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sense +for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it +known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her +go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general +behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of +such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more +imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must +be greater than at home. He heard her attentively, and then said: + +“Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public +place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so +little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present +circumstances.” + +“If you were aware,” said Elizabeth, “of the very great disadvantage to +us all which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and +imprudent manner--nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you +would judge differently in the affair.” + +“Already arisen?” repeated Mr. Bennet. “What, has she frightened away +some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such +squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity +are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of pitiful fellows who +have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly.” + +“Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not +of particular, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our +importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the +wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark +Lydia's character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear +father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and +of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of +her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character +will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt +that ever made herself or her family ridiculous; a flirt, too, in the +worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond +youth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptiness +of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal +contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger +Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, +ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father, can you +suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever +they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the +disgrace?” + +Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject, and +affectionately taking her hand said in reply: + +“Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known +you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less +advantage for having a couple of--or I may say, three--very silly +sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to +Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will +keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an +object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance +even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find +women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being +there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow +many degrees worse, without authorising us to lock her up for the rest +of her life.” + +With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion +continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not +in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on +them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret +over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her +disposition. + +Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her +father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their +united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised +every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye +of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers. +She saw herself the object of attention, to tens and to scores of them +at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp--its tents +stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young +and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she +saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six +officers at once. + +Had she known her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such +realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could have +been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same. +Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for her melancholy +conviction of her husband's never intending to go there himself. + +But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures +continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving +home. + +Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been +frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty +well over; the agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even +learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted +her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present +behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, +for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those intentions which +had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after +what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in +finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous +gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the +reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever +cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified, +and her preference secured at any time by their renewal. + +On the very last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined, +with other of the officers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth +disposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some +inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she +mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three +weeks at Rosings, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former. + +He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment's +recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen +him often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, +asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. +With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added: + +“How long did you say he was at Rosings?” + +“Nearly three weeks.” + +“And you saw him frequently?” + +“Yes, almost every day.” + +“His manners are very different from his cousin's.” + +“Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance.” + +“Indeed!” cried Mr. Wickham with a look which did not escape her. “And +pray, may I ask?--” But checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, “Is +it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add aught of civility +to his ordinary style?--for I dare not hope,” he continued in a lower +and more serious tone, “that he is improved in essentials.” + +“Oh, no!” said Elizabeth. “In essentials, I believe, he is very much +what he ever was.” + +While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to +rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a +something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive +and anxious attention, while she added: + +“When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that +his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from +knowing him better, his disposition was better understood.” + +Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated +look; for a few minutes he was silent, till, shaking off his +embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of +accents: + +“You, who so well know my feeling towards Mr. Darcy, will readily +comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume +even the _appearance_ of what is right. His pride, in that direction, +may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must only +deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only +fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been +alluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good +opinion and judgement he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always +operated, I know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be +imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I +am certain he has very much at heart.” + +Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a +slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on +the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge +him. The rest of the evening passed with the _appearance_, on his +side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish +Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a +mutual desire of never meeting again. + +When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, +from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separation +between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the +only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs. +Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter, +and impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the +opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible--advice which +there was every reason to believe would be well attended to; and in +the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more +gentle adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard. + + + +Chapter 42 + + +Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could +not have formed a very pleasing opinion of conjugal felicity or domestic +comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance +of good humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a +woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in +their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, +esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views +of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of +a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own +imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often +console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of +the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal +enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as +her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not +the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his +wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true +philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given. + +Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her +father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but +respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of +herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to +banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation +and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own +children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so +strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so +unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising +from so ill-judged a direction of talents; talents, which, rightly used, +might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even +if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife. + +When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure she found little +other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties +abroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother and +sister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything around +them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty +might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers +of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition +greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all +her folly and assurance by a situation of such double danger as a +watering-place and a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what +has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had been +looking with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the +satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to +name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity--to have +some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by +again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the +present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes +was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation +for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her mother +and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in the +scheme, every part of it would have been perfect. + +“But it is fortunate,” thought she, “that I have something to wish for. +Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain. +But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my +sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of +pleasure realised. A scheme of which every part promises delight can +never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by +the defence of some little peculiar vexation.” + +When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely +to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and +always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that +they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers +had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as +made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which +she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a +violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going off to +the camp; and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still +less to be learnt--for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were +much too full of lines under the words to be made public. + +After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good +humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore +a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came +back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet +was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of +June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without +tears; an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope that by +the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to +mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious +arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in +Meryton. + +The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast +approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter +arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and +curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from +setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again +within a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go so +far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with +the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up +the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the +present plan, were to go no farther northwards than Derbyshire. In that +county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three +weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The +town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where +they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of +her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, +Dovedale, or the Peak. + +Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing +the Lakes, and still thought there might have been time enough. But it +was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy; +and all was soon right again. + +With the mention of Derbyshire there were many ideas connected. It was +impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its +owner. “But surely,” said she, “I may enter his county with impunity, +and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me.” + +The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away +before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. +and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at +Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two +younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their +cousin Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and +sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every +way--teaching them, playing with them, and loving them. + +The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the +next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. +One enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness of companions; +a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear +inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection +and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were +disappointments abroad. + +It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, +nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither +lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc. are +sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present +concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's +former residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance +still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all the +principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of Lambton, +Elizabeth found from her aunt that Pemberley was situated. It was not +in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In +talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed +an inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his +willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation. + +“My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard +so much?” said her aunt; “a place, too, with which so many of your +acquaintances are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you +know.” + +Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at +Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She +must own that she was tired of seeing great houses; after going over so +many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains. + +Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. “If it were merely a fine house +richly furnished,” said she, “I should not care about it myself; but +the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the +country.” + +Elizabeth said no more--but her mind could not acquiesce. The +possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly +occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea, and +thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such +a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved +that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries to the +absence of the family were unfavourably answered. + +Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid +whether Pemberley were not a very fine place? what was the name of its +proprietor? and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for +the summer? A most welcome negative followed the last question--and her +alarms now being removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of +curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the +next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and +with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike +to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go. + + + +Chapter 43 + + +Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of +Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned +in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. + +The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They +entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through +a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. + +Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired +every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for +half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable +eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by +Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which +the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone +building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of +high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was +swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks +were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She +had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural +beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were +all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that +to be mistress of Pemberley might be something! + +They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, +while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of +meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been +mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the +hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to +wonder at her being where she was. + +The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less +fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They +followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well proportioned +room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went +to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, which +they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, +was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and +she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its +banks and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, +with delight. As they passed into other rooms these objects were taking +different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be +seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to +the fortune of its proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of +his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of +splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings. + +“And of this place,” thought she, “I might have been mistress! With +these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of +viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and +welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But no,”--recollecting +herself--“that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost to +me; I should not have been allowed to invite them.” + +This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something very like +regret. + +She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really +absent, but had not the courage for it. At length however, the question +was asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. +Reynolds replied that he was, adding, “But we expect him to-morrow, with +a large party of friends.” How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own +journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day! + +Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw the +likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other miniatures, +over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it. +The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young +gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought +up by him at his own expense. “He is now gone into the army,” she added; +“but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.” + +Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not +return it. + +“And that,” said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, +“is my master--and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the +other--about eight years ago.” + +“I have heard much of your master's fine person,” said Mrs. Gardiner, +looking at the picture; “it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell +us whether it is like or not.” + +Mrs. Reynolds respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this +intimation of her knowing her master. + +“Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?” + +Elizabeth coloured, and said: “A little.” + +“And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?” + +“Yes, very handsome.” + +“I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you +will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late +master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to +be then. He was very fond of them.” + +This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them. + +Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn +when she was only eight years old. + +“And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?” said Mrs. Gardiner. + +“Oh! yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so +accomplished!--She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is +a new instrument just come down for her--a present from my master; she +comes here to-morrow with him.” + +Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her +communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either +by pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her +master and his sister. + +“Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?” + +“Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his +time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months.” + +“Except,” thought Elizabeth, “when she goes to Ramsgate.” + +“If your master would marry, you might see more of him.” + +“Yes, sir; but I do not know when _that_ will be. I do not know who is +good enough for him.” + +Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, “It is +very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so.” + +“I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him,” + replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and she +listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, “I have +never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever +since he was four years old.” + +This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her +ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion. +Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was +grateful to her uncle for saying: + +“There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in +having such a master.” + +“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could +not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are +good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and +he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the +world.” + +Elizabeth almost stared at her. “Can this be Mr. Darcy?” thought she. + +“His father was an excellent man,” said Mrs. Gardiner. + +“Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just +as affable to the poor.” + +Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs. +Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects +of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the +furniture, in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family +prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her +master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his +many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase. + +“He is the best landlord, and the best master,” said she, “that ever +lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but +themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give +him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw +anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away +like other young men.” + +“In what an amiable light does this place him!” thought Elizabeth. + +“This fine account of him,” whispered her aunt as they walked, “is not +quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend.” + +“Perhaps we might be deceived.” + +“That is not very likely; our authority was too good.” + +On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty +sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than +the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to +give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when +last at Pemberley. + +“He is certainly a good brother,” said Elizabeth, as she walked towards +one of the windows. + +Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter +the room. “And this is always the way with him,” she added. “Whatever +can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There +is nothing he would not do for her.” + +The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were +all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings; +but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already +visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss +Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and +also more intelligible. + +In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have +little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked in quest of +the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested +her--and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a +smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he +looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnest +contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. +Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's +lifetime. + +There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle +sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of +their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds +was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise +of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she +considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship!--how +much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!--how much of +good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought +forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she +stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his +eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of +gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and +softened its impropriety of expression. + +When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, +they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were +consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall-door. + +As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back +to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former +was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself +suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables. + +They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his +appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes +instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest +blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from +surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, +and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least +of perfect civility. + +She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach, +received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be +overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture +they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two +that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on +beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little +aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused, +scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer +she returned to his civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the +alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that +he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the +impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few +minutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable in +her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent +had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as +to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed in +Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the +distraction of his thoughts. + +At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few +moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took +leave. + +The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but +Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings, +followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her +coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the +world! How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light +might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely +thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he +thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes +sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; +for it was plain that he was that moment arrived--that moment alighted +from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and again over +the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly +altered--what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was +amazing!--but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! +Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never +had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What +a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put +his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to account +for it. + +They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and +every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer +reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time +before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered +mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and +seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she +distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that +one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then +was. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind--in +what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, +she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he +felt himself at ease; yet there had been _that_ in his voice which was +not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in +seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with +composure. + +At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind +aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself. + +They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, +ascended some of the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening of +the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the +valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading +many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish +of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. +With a triumphant smile they were told that it was ten miles round. +It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which +brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, +to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed +it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; +it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the +valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, +and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. +Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the +bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, +who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only +of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, +therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house +on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their +progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the +taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the +occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the +man about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this +slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment +was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy +approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here +less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before +they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared +for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with +calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, +she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea +lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the +turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw +that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his +politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; +but she had not got beyond the words “delightful,” and “charming,” when +some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of +Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, +and she said no more. + +Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked +her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. +This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; +and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the +acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had +revolted in his offer to herself. “What will be his surprise,” thought +she, “when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of +fashion.” + +The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their +relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore +it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he +could from such disgraceful companions. That he was _surprised_ by the +connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and +so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into +conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, +could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had +some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most +attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every +expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, +his taste, or his good manners. + +The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy +invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he +chose while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time +to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of +the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was +walking arm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of wonder. +Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment +must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and +continually was she repeating, “Why is he so altered? From what can +it proceed? It cannot be for _me_--it cannot be for _my_ sake that his +manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a +change as this. It is impossible that he should still love me.” + +After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two +gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to +the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious +water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated +in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found +Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred +her husband's. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on +together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him +to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the +place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been +very unexpected--“for your housekeeper,” she added, “informed us that +you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we +left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected +in the country.” He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that +business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours +before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. “They +will join me early to-morrow,” he continued, “and among them are some +who will claim an acquaintance with you--Mr. Bingley and his sisters.” + +Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly +driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been the last +mentioned between them; and, if she might judge by his complexion, _his_ +mind was not very differently engaged. + +“There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after a +pause, “who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow +me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance +during your stay at Lambton?” + +The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great +for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt +that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her +must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was +satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made +him think really ill of her. + +They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth +was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and +pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of +the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had +reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a +mile behind. + +He then asked her to walk into the house--but she declared herself not +tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might +have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but +there seemed to be an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected +that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale +with great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly--and her +patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tete-a-tete was +over. On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go +into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and +they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the +ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him +walking slowly towards the house. + +The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them +pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. +“He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,” said her uncle. + +“There _is_ something a little stately in him, to be sure,” replied her +aunt, “but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now +say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, I +have seen nothing of it.” + +“I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more +than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such +attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling.” + +“To be sure, Lizzy,” said her aunt, “he is not so handsome as Wickham; +or, rather, he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features +are perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so +disagreeable?” + +Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked +him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never +seen him so pleasant as this morning. + +“But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,” replied +her uncle. “Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him +at his word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off +his grounds.” + +Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but +said nothing. + +“From what we have seen of him,” continued Mrs. Gardiner, “I really +should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by +anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look. +On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he +speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would +not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the +good lady who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character! +I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal +master, I suppose, and _that_ in the eye of a servant comprehends every +virtue.” + +Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of +his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in +as guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from +his relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different +construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor +Wickham's so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In +confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary +transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming +her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on. + +Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now +approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to +the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out +to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of +anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk they +had no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former +acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of a +intercourse renewed after many years' discontinuance. + +The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth +much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing +but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and, above +all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister. + + + +Chapter 44 + + +Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit +her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was consequently +resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. +But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their +arrival at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the +place with some of their new friends, and were just returning to the inn +to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a +carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and a lady in +a curricle driving up the street. Elizabeth immediately recognizing +the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of her +surprise to her relations by acquainting them with the honour which she +expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment +of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many +of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on +the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they felt that +there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a +quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these +newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of +Elizabeth's feelings was at every moment increasing. She was quite +amazed at her own discomposure; but amongst other causes of disquiet, +she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much +in her favour; and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally +suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her. + +She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked +up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of +inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse. + +Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction +took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new +acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her +being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud; +but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was +only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from +her beyond a monosyllable. + +Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though +little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance +womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there +was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly +unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as +acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much +relieved by discerning such different feelings. + +They had not long been together before Mr. Darcy told her that Bingley +was also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her +satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley's quick +step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All +Elizabeth's anger against him had been long done away; but had she still +felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected +cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He +inquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, and looked +and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done. + +To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage +than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before +them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just +arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece directed their observation towards +each with an earnest though guarded inquiry; and they soon drew from +those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew +what it was to love. Of the lady's sensations they remained a little +in doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was +evident enough. + +Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the +feelings of each of her visitors; she wanted to compose her own, and +to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she +feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she +endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley +was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased. + +In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and, oh! +how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in +a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on +former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion +that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But, +though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his +behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look +appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred +between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point +she was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred +ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a +recollection of Jane not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying +more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed +to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone +which had something of real regret, that it “was a very long time since +he had had the pleasure of seeing her;” and, before she could reply, +he added, “It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of +November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.” + +Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards +took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether +_all_ her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the question, +nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which +gave them meaning. + +It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; +but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general +complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so removed +from _hauteur_ or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that +the improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed however +temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When +she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion +of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a +disgrace--when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the +very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last +lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage--the difference, the change was +so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly +restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company +of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations +at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from +self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance +could result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the +acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed would draw +down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and +Rosings. + +Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour; and when they arose +to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing +their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner +at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a +diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, +readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing +how _she_, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its +acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming however, +that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than +any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of +society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for +her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on. + +Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth +again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to +make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all +this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased, and on +this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their +visitors left them, capable of considering the last half-hour with some +satisfaction, though while it was passing, the enjoyment of it had been +little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her +uncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their +favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress. + +But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's curiosity; it was +not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was +much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; +it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to +interest, but nothing to justify inquiry. + +Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far +as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could +not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character +from their own feelings and his servant's report, without any reference +to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known +would not have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, +however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible +that the authority of a servant who had known him since he was four +years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be +hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of +their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had +nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not, +it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town +where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he +was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor. + +With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held +there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the +son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well-known +fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind +him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged. + +As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than +the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not +long enough to determine her feelings towards _one_ in that mansion; +and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She +certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she +had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, +that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his +valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some +time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened +into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in +his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, +which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, +there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. +It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, +but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and +acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations +accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid +her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most +eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display +of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only +were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent +on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much +pride exciting not only astonishment but gratitude--for to love, ardent +love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a +sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be +exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, +she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how +far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would +be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her +fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of +his addresses. + +It had been settled in the evening between the aunt and the niece, that +such a striking civility as Miss Darcy's in coming to see them on the +very day of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only to a +late breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, +by some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that +it would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following +morning. They were, therefore, to go. Elizabeth was pleased; though when +she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply. + +Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been +renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting +some of the gentlemen at Pemberley before noon. + + + +Chapter 45 + + +Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had +originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her +appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know with how +much civility on that lady's side the acquaintance would now be renewed. + +On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, +whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows +opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody +hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts +which were scattered over the intermediate lawn. + +In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there +with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in +London. Georgiana's reception of them was very civil, but attended with +all the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear +of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior +the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, +however, did her justice, and pitied her. + +By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; and, +on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, +succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a +genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind +of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the +others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from +Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she +wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a +short sentence when there was least danger of its being heard. + +Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley, +and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without +calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her +from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an +inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity +of saying much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every +moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she +feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether +she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After +sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss +Bingley's voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold +inquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal +indifference and brevity, and the other said no more. + +The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the +entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the +finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many +a significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been +given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole +party--for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the +beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected +them round the table. + +While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether +she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by the +feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but +a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to +regret that he came. + +He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other +gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him +only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to +Georgiana that morning. No sooner did he appear than Elizabeth wisely +resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the more +necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she +saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, +and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour +when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive +curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley's, in spite of the +smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its +objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions +to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother's +entrance, exerted herself much more to talk, and Elizabeth saw that he +was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded +as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss +Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the +first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility: + +“Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ----shire Militia removed from Meryton? +They must be a great loss to _your_ family.” + +In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Elizabeth +instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the +various recollections connected with him gave her a moment's distress; +but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she +presently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While +she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy, with a heightened +complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with +confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what +pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would +have refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose +Elizabeth by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed +her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in +Darcy's opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies +and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected +with that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy's +meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy +was possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley's connections +her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from the very +wish which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming +hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without +meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss +Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern +for the welfare of his friend. + +Elizabeth's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and +as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to +Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able +to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely +recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which +had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to have +fixed them on her more and more cheerfully. + +Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above +mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage Miss +Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person, +behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's +recommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his judgement could not +err. And he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana +without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When +Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to +him some part of what she had been saying to his sister. + +“How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy,” she +cried; “I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since +the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing +that we should not have known her again.” + +However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented +himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than +her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the +summer. + +“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could +see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no +brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose +wants character--there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are +tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, +which have sometimes been called so fine, I could never see anything +extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do +not like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-sufficiency +without fashion, which is intolerable.” + +Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not +the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always +wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the +success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a +determination of making him speak, she continued: + +“I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all +were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect +your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, '_She_ +a beauty!--I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards she +seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at +one time.” + +“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but _that_ +was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have +considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.” + +He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of +having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself. + +Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their +visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them +both. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, +except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked +of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit--of everything but +himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of +him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece's +beginning the subject. + + + +Chapter 46 + + +Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from +Jane on their first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment had been +renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but +on the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the +receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that +it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as +Jane had written the direction remarkably ill. + +They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and +her uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by +themselves. The one missent must first be attended to; it had been +written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their +little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; +but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident +agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect: + +“Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a +most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you--be +assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. +An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, +from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland +with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our +surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am +very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing +to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. +Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step +(and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is +disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. +Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How +thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against +him; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about +twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at +eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have +passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect +him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of +their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor +mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly +know what I have written.” + +Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing +what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantly seized the +other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it +had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first. + +“By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I +wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my +head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest +Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, +and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as the marriage between Mr. Wickham +and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has +taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone +to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the +day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia's short +letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna +Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that W. +never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was +repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B. +intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, +but no further; for on entering that place, they removed into a hackney +coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that +is known after this is, that they were seen to continue the London road. +I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that +side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing +them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but +without any success--no such people had been seen to pass through. With +the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions +to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved +for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our +distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the +worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make +it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue +their first plan; and even if _he_ could form such a design against a +young woman of Lydia's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose +her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that +Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his +head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to +be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she +exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And +as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has +anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of +confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you +have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the +first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not +so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I +take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but +circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to +come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well, +that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something +more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel +Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure +I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any +measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to +be at Brighton again to-morrow evening. In such an exigence, my +uncle's advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will +immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.” + +“Oh! where, where is my uncle?” cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat +as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing +a moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door it was +opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and impetuous +manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak, +she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situation, +hastily exclaimed, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find +Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not +an instant to lose.” + +“Good God! what is the matter?” cried he, with more feeling than +politeness; then recollecting himself, “I will not detain you a minute; +but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are +not well enough; you cannot go yourself.” + +Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt how +little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back +the servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless +an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and +mistress home instantly. + +On his quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, and +looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, +or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, +“Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you +present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.” + +“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There +is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by +some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn.” + +She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could +not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say +something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate +silence. At length she spoke again. “I have just had a letter from Jane, +with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger +sister has left all her friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into +the power of--of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. +_You_ know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no +connections, nothing that can tempt him to--she is lost for ever.” + +Darcy was fixed in astonishment. “When I consider,” she added in a yet +more agitated voice, “that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what +he was. Had I but explained some part of it only--some part of what I +learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not +have happened. But it is all--all too late now.” + +“I am grieved indeed,” cried Darcy; “grieved--shocked. But is it +certain--absolutely certain?” + +“Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced +almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to +Scotland.” + +“And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?” + +“My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's +immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But +nothing can be done--I know very well that nothing can be done. How is +such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have +not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!” + +Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence. + +“When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character--Oh! had I known what +I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not--I was afraid of doing too +much. Wretched, wretched mistake!” + +Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking +up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air +gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her +power was sinking; everything _must_ sink under such a proof of family +weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither +wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing +consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It +was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own +wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved +him, as now, when all love must be vain. + +But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia--the +humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed +up every private care; and covering her face with her handkerchief, +Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of +several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by +the voice of her companion, who, in a manner which, though it spoke +compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, “I am afraid you have been +long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my +stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything +could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to +such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may +seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I +fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley +to-day.” + +“Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that +urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as +long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long.” + +He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for +her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present +reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only +one serious, parting look, went away. + +As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they +should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as +had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a +retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full +of contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those +feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would +formerly have rejoiced in its termination. + +If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's +change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if +otherwise--if regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or +unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on +a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been +exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given +somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham, +and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other +less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him +go with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia's infamy must +produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched +business. Never, since reading Jane's second letter, had she entertained +a hope of Wickham's meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, +could flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least +of her feelings on this development. While the contents of the first +letter remained in her mind, she was all surprise--all astonishment that +Wickham should marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marry +for money; and how Lydia could ever have attached him had appeared +incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment +as this she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose +Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement without the intention +of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither her virtue +nor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey. + +She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that +Lydia had any partiality for him; but she was convinced that Lydia +wanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody. Sometimes one +officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions +raised them in her opinion. Her affections had continually been +fluctuating but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and +mistaken indulgence towards such a girl--oh! how acutely did she now +feel it! + +She was wild to be at home--to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to +share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a +family so deranged, a father absent, a mother incapable of exertion, and +requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing +could be done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost +importance, and till he entered the room her impatience was severe. Mr. +and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing by the servant's +account that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying them +instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of their +summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript +of the last with trembling energy.--Though Lydia had never been a +favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply +afflicted. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after the +first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner promised every +assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no less, thanked +him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit, +everything relating to their journey was speedily settled. They were to +be off as soon as possible. “But what is to be done about Pemberley?” + cried Mrs. Gardiner. “John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for +us; was it so?” + +“Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. +_That_ is all settled.” + +“What is all settled?” repeated the other, as she ran into her room to +prepare. “And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real +truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!” + +But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse her in the +hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure +to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was +impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of +business as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to +be written to all their friends at Lambton, with false excuses for their +sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr. +Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the inn, nothing +remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of +the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could +have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn. + + + +Chapter 47 + + +“I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth,” said her uncle, as they +drove from the town; “and really, upon serious consideration, I am much +more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does on the +matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should +form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or +friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I +am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends +would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the +regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is +not adequate to the risk!” + +“Do you really think so?” cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a moment. + +“Upon my word,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “I begin to be of your uncle's +opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and +interest, for him to be guilty of. I cannot think so very ill of +Wickham. Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe +him capable of it?” + +“Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every other +neglect I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I +dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland if that had been +the case?” + +“In the first place,” replied Mr. Gardiner, “there is no absolute proof +that they are not gone to Scotland.” + +“Oh! but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is such +a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the +Barnet road.” + +“Well, then--supposing them to be in London. They may be there, though +for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptional purpose. It is +not likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and it +might strike them that they could be more economically, though less +expeditiously, married in London than in Scotland.” + +“But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their +marriage be private? Oh, no, no--this is not likely. His most particular +friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intending +to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He +cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia--what attraction has she +beyond youth, health, and good humour that could make him, for her sake, +forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what +restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a +dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know +nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your +other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has +no brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father's +behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever +seemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would +do as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do, in +such a matter.” + +“But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him +as to consent to live with him on any terms other than marriage?” + +“It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed,” replied Elizabeth, with +tears in her eyes, “that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in such +a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. +Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she has never +been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half-year, +nay, for a twelvemonth--she has been given up to nothing but amusement +and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle +and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way. +Since the ----shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, +flirtation, and officers have been in her head. She has been doing +everything in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to give +greater--what shall I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are +naturally lively enough. And we all know that Wickham has every charm of +person and address that can captivate a woman.” + +“But you see that Jane,” said her aunt, “does not think so very ill of +Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt.” + +“Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be +their former conduct, that she would think capable of such an attempt, +till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what +Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every +sense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is +as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.” + +“And do you really know all this?” cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity +as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive. + +“I do indeed,” replied Elizabeth, colouring. “I told you, the other day, +of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you yourself, when last at +Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved +with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other +circumstances which I am not at liberty--which it is not worth while to +relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From +what he said of Miss Darcy I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, +reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He +must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found +her.” + +“But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what you +and Jane seem so well to understand?” + +“Oh, yes!--that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw +so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was +ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shire +was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the +case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it +necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could +it apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all the +neighbourhood had of him should then be overthrown? And even when it was +settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening +her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That _she_ could be +in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a +consequence as _this_ could ensue, you may easily believe, was far +enough from my thoughts.” + +“When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I +suppose, to believe them fond of each other?” + +“Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either +side; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware +that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first +he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all +were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for +the first two months; but he never distinguished _her_ by any particular +attention; and, consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and +wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment, +who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites.” + + * * * * * + +It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added +to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, by +its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during +the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent. +Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find +no interval of ease or forgetfulness. + +They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, sleeping one night +on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner time the next day. It was a +comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied +by long expectations. + +The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing +on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock; and, when the +carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their +faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of +capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome. + +Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss, +hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down from her +mother's apartment, immediately met her. + +Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the +eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been +heard of the fugitives. + +“Not yet,” replied Jane. “But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope +everything will be well.” + +“Is my father in town?” + +“Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word.” + +“And have you heard from him often?” + +“We have heard only twice. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say +that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I +particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not write +again till he had something of importance to mention.” + +“And my mother--how is she? How are you all?” + +“My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly +shaken. She is up stairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you +all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank +Heaven, are quite well.” + +“But you--how are you?” cried Elizabeth. “You look pale. How much you +must have gone through!” + +Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and their +conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were +engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach +of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and +thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears. + +When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth +had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon +found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of +good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yet +deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that +every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, +to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce their marriage. + +Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' +conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with +tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous +conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage; +blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the +errors of her daughter must principally be owing. + +“If I had been able,” said she, “to carry my point in going to Brighton, +with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia +had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out +of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their +side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been +well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the +charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child! +And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, +wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become +of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his +grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we +shall do.” + +They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after +general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her +that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr. +Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia. + +“Do not give way to useless alarm,” added he; “though it is right to be +prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. +It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more we +may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, +and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as +lost. As soon as I get to town I shall go to my brother, and make +him come home with me to Gracechurch Street; and then we may consult +together as to what is to be done.” + +“Oh! my dear brother,” replied Mrs. Bennet, “that is exactly what I +could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, +wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them +marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but +tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, +after they are married. And, above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. +Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted out of my +wits--and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me--such +spasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that +I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to +give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does +not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, how kind you are! I +know you will contrive it all.” + +But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours +in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well +in her hopes as her fear; and after talking with her in this manner till +dinner was on the table, they all left her to vent all her feelings on +the housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters. + +Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real +occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to +oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her +tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it +better that _one_ only of the household, and the one whom they could +most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the +subject. + +In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been +too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance +before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The +faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible +in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger +which she had herself incurred in this business, had given more of +fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was +mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance +of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table: + +“This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of. +But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of +each other the balm of sisterly consolation.” + +Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added, +“Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful +lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one +false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less +brittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in +her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.” + +Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed +to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such +kind of moral extractions from the evil before them. + +In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for +half-an-hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of +the opportunity of making any inquiries, which Jane was equally eager to +satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel +of this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss +Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued +the subject, by saying, “But tell me all and everything about it which +I have not already heard. Give me further particulars. What did Colonel +Forster say? Had they no apprehension of anything before the elopement +took place? They must have seen them together for ever.” + +“Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality, +especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so +grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He +_was_ coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had +any idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension +first got abroad, it hastened his journey.” + +“And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know of +their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?” + +“Yes; but, when questioned by _him_, Denny denied knowing anything of +their plans, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not +repeat his persuasion of their not marrying--and from _that_, I am +inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before.” + +“And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a +doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?” + +“How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains? I felt +a little uneasy--a little fearful of my sister's happiness with him +in marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite +right. My father and mother knew nothing of that; they only felt how +imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural +triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter +she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their +being in love with each other, many weeks.” + +“But not before they went to Brighton?” + +“No, I believe not.” + +“And did Colonel Forster appear to think well of Wickham himself? Does +he know his real character?” + +“I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerly +did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this sad +affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt; +but I hope this may be false.” + +“Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him, +this could not have happened!” + +“Perhaps it would have been better,” replied her sister. “But to expose +the former faults of any person without knowing what their present +feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions.” + +“Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to his +wife?” + +“He brought it with him for us to see.” + +Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. These +were the contents: + +“MY DEAR HARRIET, + +“You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help +laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am +missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, +I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I +love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think +it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my +going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, +when I write to them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham.' What a good joke +it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to +Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to-night. +Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all; and tell him I will +dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall +send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell +Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are +packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will +drink to our good journey. + +“Your affectionate friend, + +“LYDIA BENNET.” + +“Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!” cried Elizabeth when she had +finished it. “What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment! +But at least it shows that _she_ was serious on the subject of their +journey. Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her +side a _scheme_ of infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!” + +“I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten +minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in +such confusion!” + +“Oh! Jane,” cried Elizabeth, “was there a servant belonging to it who +did not know the whole story before the end of the day?” + +“I do not know. I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time is +very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to +give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so +much as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen +almost took from me my faculties.” + +“Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do not look +well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had every care and anxiety +upon yourself alone.” + +“Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every +fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either of them. +Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hours +of repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Phillips came to Longbourn +on Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till +Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all. And +Lady Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to +condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters', if +they should be of use to us.” + +“She had better have stayed at home,” cried Elizabeth; “perhaps she +_meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see +too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence +insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.” + +She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her father had +intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter. + +“He meant I believe,” replied Jane, “to go to Epsom, the place where +they last changed horses, see the postilions and try if anything could +be made out from them. His principal object must be to discover the +number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come +with a fare from London; and as he thought that the circumstance of a +gentleman and lady's removing from one carriage into another might +be remarked he meant to make inquiries at Clapham. If he could anyhow +discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he +determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible +to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any +other designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone, +and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding +out even so much as this.” + + + +Chapter 48 + + +The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next +morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. +His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and +dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. +They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to +send; but even of _that_ they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. +Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off. + +When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant +information of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting, +to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, as soon as he could, +to the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only +security for her husband's not being killed in a duel. + +Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few +days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable +to her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a +great comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also +visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of +cheering and heartening them up--though, as she never came without +reporting some fresh instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity, +she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found +them. + +All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months +before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt +to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with +the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family. +Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; +and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the +appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above +half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of +her sister's ruin more certain; and even Jane, who believed still less +of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now come +when, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirely +despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news of +them. + +Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday his wife received a +letter from him; it told them that, on his arrival, he had immediately +found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street; +that Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival, +but without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now +determined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet +thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first +coming to London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself +did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was +eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. +Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave London and promised +to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect: + +“I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if +possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the regiment, +whether Wickham has any relations or connections who would be likely to +know in what part of town he has now concealed himself. If there were +anyone that one could apply to with a probability of gaining such a +clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have +nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in +his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps, +Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living, better than any +other person.” + +Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference to her +authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any information +of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved. She had never +heard of his having had any relations, except a father and mother, both +of whom had been dead many years. It was possible, however, that some of +his companions in the ----shire might be able to give more information; +and though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application +was a something to look forward to. + +Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious +part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters +was the grand object of every morning's impatience. Through letters, +whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, and every +succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance. + +But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for +their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane +had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, +she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his +letters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as +follows: + +“MY DEAR SIR, + +“I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation +in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now +suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from +Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself +sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in +your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because +proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be +wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune--or that +may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others the +most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would +have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to +be lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte +informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has +proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, +for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think +that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be +guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, +you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am not only joined +by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to +whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that +this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of +all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, +will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads +me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event +of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved +in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you, dear sir, to +console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child +from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her +own heinous offense. + +“I am, dear sir, etc., etc.” + +Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer from +Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. +It was not known that Wickham had a single relationship with whom he +kept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one +living. His former acquaintances had been numerous; but since he +had been in the militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of +particular friendship with any of them. There was no one, therefore, +who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in the +wretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for +secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by Lydia's relations, for +it had just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a +very considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a +thousand pounds would be necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton. +He owed a good deal in town, but his debts of honour were still more +formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these particulars +from the Longbourn family. Jane heard them with horror. “A gamester!” + she cried. “This is wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it.” + +Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their +father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered +spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he had yielded +to his brother-in-law's entreaty that he would return to his family, and +leave it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable +for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did +not express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering +what her anxiety for his life had been before. + +“What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?” she cried. “Sure he +will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham, +and make him marry her, if he comes away?” + +As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she +and the children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet +came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their +journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn. + +Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her +Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that part of the world. His +name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; and +the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their +being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had +received none since her return that could come from Pemberley. + +The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other excuse for +the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be +fairly conjectured from _that_, though Elizabeth, who was by this time +tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware +that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of +Lydia's infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, +one sleepless night out of two. + +When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual +philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the +habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him +away, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of +it. + +It was not till the afternoon, when he had joined them at tea, that +Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly +expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, “Say +nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, +and I ought to feel it.” + +“You must not be too severe upon yourself,” replied Elizabeth. + +“You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone +to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have +been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. +It will pass away soon enough.” + +“Do you suppose them to be in London?” + +“Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?” + +“And Lydia used to want to go to London,” added Kitty. + +“She is happy then,” said her father drily; “and her residence there +will probably be of some duration.” + +Then after a short silence he continued: + +“Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me +last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind.” + +They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's +tea. + +“This is a parade,” he cried, “which does one good; it gives such an +elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my +library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as +I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away.” + +“I am not going to run away, papa,” said Kitty fretfully. “If I should +ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia.” + +“_You_ go to Brighton. I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne +for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and +you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter into +my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be +absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. +And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have +spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner.” + +Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry. + +“Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good +girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of +them.” + + + +Chapter 49 + + +Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking +together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper +coming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to their +mother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the expected summons, +when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, “I beg your pardon, +madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some +good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask.” + +“What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town.” + +“Dear madam,” cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, “don't you know +there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here +this half-hour, and master has had a letter.” + +Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They +ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the +library; their father was in neither; and they were on the point of +seeking him up stairs with their mother, when they were met by the +butler, who said: + +“If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking towards the +little copse.” + +Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once +more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately +pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock. + +Jane, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running as +Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath, +came up with him, and eagerly cried out: + +“Oh, papa, what news--what news? Have you heard from my uncle?” + +“Yes I have had a letter from him by express.” + +“Well, and what news does it bring--good or bad?” + +“What is there of good to be expected?” said he, taking the letter from +his pocket. “But perhaps you would like to read it.” + +Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up. + +“Read it aloud,” said their father, “for I hardly know myself what it is +about.” + +“Gracechurch Street, Monday, August 2. + +“MY DEAR BROTHER, + +“At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as, +upon the whole, I hope it will give you satisfaction. Soon after you +left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what part of +London they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet; it is enough +to know they are discovered. I have seen them both--” + +“Then it is as I always hoped,” cried Jane; “they are married!” + +Elizabeth read on: + +“I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find there +was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to perform the +engagements which I have ventured to make on your side, I hope it will +not be long before they are. All that is required of you is, to assure +to your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousand +pounds secured among your children after the decease of yourself and +my sister; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, +during your life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions +which, considering everything, I had no hesitation in complying with, +as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by +express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You +will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's +circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to be. +The world has been deceived in that respect; and I am happy to say there +will be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, to +settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. If, as I conclude +will be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughout +the whole of this business, I will immediately give directions to +Haggerston for preparing a proper settlement. There will not be the +smallest occasion for your coming to town again; therefore stay quiet at +Longbourn, and depend on my diligence and care. Send back your answer as +fast as you can, and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it +best that my niece should be married from this house, of which I hope +you will approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as +anything more is determined on. Yours, etc., + +“EDW. GARDINER.” + +“Is it possible?” cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. “Can it be +possible that he will marry her?” + +“Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him,” said her +sister. “My dear father, I congratulate you.” + +“And have you answered the letter?” cried Elizabeth. + +“No; but it must be done soon.” + +Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before he +wrote. + +“Oh! my dear father,” she cried, “come back and write immediately. +Consider how important every moment is in such a case.” + +“Let me write for you,” said Jane, “if you dislike the trouble +yourself.” + +“I dislike it very much,” he replied; “but it must be done.” + +And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house. + +“And may I ask--” said Elizabeth; “but the terms, I suppose, must be +complied with.” + +“Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little.” + +“And they _must_ marry! Yet he is _such_ a man!” + +“Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there +are two things that I want very much to know; one is, how much money +your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how am I ever +to pay him.” + +“Money! My uncle!” cried Jane, “what do you mean, sir?” + +“I mean, that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight a +temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am +gone.” + +“That is very true,” said Elizabeth; “though it had not occurred to me +before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! +it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has +distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this.” + +“No,” said her father; “Wickham's a fool if he takes her with a farthing +less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so ill of him, +in the very beginning of our relationship.” + +“Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be +repaid?” + +Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, continued +silent till they reached the house. Their father then went on to the +library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room. + +“And they are really to be married!” cried Elizabeth, as soon as they +were by themselves. “How strange this is! And for _this_ we are to be +thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness, +and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice. Oh, Lydia!” + +“I comfort myself with thinking,” replied Jane, “that he certainly would +not marry Lydia if he had not a real regard for her. Though our kind +uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that ten +thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has children +of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand +pounds?” + +“If he were ever able to learn what Wickham's debts have been,” said +Elizabeth, “and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shall +exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them, because Wickham has +not sixpence of his own. The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never +be requited. Their taking her home, and affording her their personal +protection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as +years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is +actually with them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now, +she will never deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she +first sees my aunt!” + +“We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side,” said +Jane: “I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to +marry her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of +thinking. Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself +they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in +time make their past imprudence forgotten.” + +“Their conduct has been such,” replied Elizabeth, “as neither you, nor +I, nor anybody can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it.” + +It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood +perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library, +therefore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make +it known to her. He was writing and, without raising his head, coolly +replied: + +“Just as you please.” + +“May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?” + +“Take whatever you like, and get away.” + +Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went up stairs +together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication +would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news, +the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As +soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's being soon +married, her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its +exuberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as she +had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter +would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her +felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct. + +“My dear, dear Lydia!” she cried. “This is delightful indeed! She will +be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! +My good, kind brother! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage +everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the +clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about +them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him +how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, +Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear +Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!” + +Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of +these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr. +Gardiner's behaviour laid them all under. + +“For we must attribute this happy conclusion,” she added, “in a great +measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to +assist Mr. Wickham with money.” + +“Well,” cried her mother, “it is all very right; who should do it but +her own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children +must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have +ever had anything from him, except a few presents. Well! I am so happy! +In a short time I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well +it sounds! And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in +such a flutter, that I am sure I can't write; so I will dictate, and +you write for me. We will settle with your father about the money +afterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately.” + +She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and +cambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had +not Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till her +father was at leisure to be consulted. One day's delay, she observed, +would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy to be quite +so obstinate as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head. + +“I will go to Meryton,” said she, “as soon as I am dressed, and tell the +good, good news to my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call +on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down and order the carriage. +An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do +anything for you in Meryton? Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you +heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall +all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding.” + +Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her +congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took +refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom. + +Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was +no worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in +looking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could +be justly expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had +feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had +gained. + + + +Chapter 50 + + +Mr. Bennet had very often wished before this period of his life that, +instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for +the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived +him. He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that +respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever +of honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of +prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain to be +her husband might then have rested in its proper place. + +He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone +should be forwarded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he +was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance, +and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could. + +When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly +useless, for, of course, they were to have a son. The son was to join +in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow +and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters +successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. +Bennet, for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he +would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then +too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her +husband's love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their +income. + +Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and +the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the +latter depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with +regard to Lydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet +could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In +terms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother, +though expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect +approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the +engagements that had been made for him. He had never before supposed +that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would +be done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the present +arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser by the +hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocket +allowance, and the continual presents in money which passed to her +through her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been very little within +that sum. + +That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was +another very welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have as +little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports +of rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he +naturally returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon +dispatched; for, though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick +in its execution. He begged to know further particulars of what he +was indebted to his brother, but was too angry with Lydia to send any +message to her. + +The good news spread quickly through the house, and with proportionate +speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent +philosophy. To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage +of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the +happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant +farmhouse. But there was much to be talked of in marrying her; and the +good-natured wishes for her well-doing which had proceeded before from +all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lost but a little of their spirit +in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband her misery +was considered certain. + +It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this +happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in +spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her +triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object +of her wishes since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of +accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those +attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and +servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a +proper situation for her daughter, and, without knowing or considering +what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size and +importance. + +“Haye Park might do,” said she, “if the Gouldings could quit it--or the +great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is +too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for +Pulvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful.” + +Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the +servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her: “Mrs. +Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and +daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into _one_ house in this +neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the +impudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn.” + +A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. It +soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror, +that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his +daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of +affection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend +it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable +resentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without which her +marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all she could believe +possible. She was more alive to the disgrace which her want of new +clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials, than to any sense of +shame at her eloping and living with Wickham a fortnight before they +took place. + +Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of +the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for +her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the +proper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its +unfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on the +spot. + +She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were +few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; +but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister's +frailty would have mortified her so much--not, however, from any fear +of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, +there seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been +concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that +Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family where, to every other +objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the +nearest kind with a man whom he so justly scorned. + +From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The +wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his +feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a +blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she +hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no +longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there +seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that +she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they +should meet. + +What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the +proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now +have been most gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she +doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal, +there must be a triumph. + +She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in +disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and +temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It +was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease +and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; +and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she +must have received benefit of greater importance. + +But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what +connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and +precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their +family. + +How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable independence, +she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could +belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions +were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's +acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness to +promote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties +that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal +purport of his letter was to inform them that Mr. Wickham had resolved +on quitting the militia. + +“It was greatly my wish that he should do so,” he added, “as soon as +his marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in +considering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on +his account and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into +the regulars; and among his former friends, there are still some who +are able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an +ensigncy in General ----'s regiment, now quartered in the North. It +is an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He +promises fairly; and I hope among different people, where they may each +have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. I have +written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of our present arrangements, +and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Wickham +in and near Brighton, with assurances of speedy payment, for which I +have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying +similar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin +a list according to his information? He has given in all his debts; I +hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, +and all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment, +unless they are first invited to Longbourn; and I understand from Mrs. +Gardiner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she +leaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to +you and her mother.--Yours, etc., + +“E. GARDINER.” + +Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham's removal +from the ----shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. Bennet +was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the North, +just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, +for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in +Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a +pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted +with everybody, and had so many favourites. + +“She is so fond of Mrs. Forster,” said she, “it will be quite shocking +to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she +likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General ----'s +regiment.” + +His daughter's request, for such it might be considered, of being +admitted into her family again before she set off for the North, +received at first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, +who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister's feelings and +consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents, +urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her +and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that he was +prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their +mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to show +her married daughter in the neighbourhood before she was banished to the +North. When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he sent +his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon as +the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth was +surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a scheme, and +had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him would +have been the last object of her wishes. + + + +Chapter 51 + + +Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her +probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to +meet them at ----, and they were to return in it by dinner-time. Their +arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more especially, +who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she +been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister +must endure. + +They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive +them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to +the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, +anxious, uneasy. + +Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and +she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and +welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, +to Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy with an +alacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness. + +Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite +so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely +opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was +enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet +was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, +and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their +congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly +round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and +observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been +there. + +Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners +were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been +exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he +claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had +not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, +resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence +of an impudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the +two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour. + +There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither +of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near +Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, +with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her +replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the +world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led +voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for +the world. + +“Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away; +it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things +enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure +I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I +thought it would be very good fun if I was.” + +Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked +expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of +which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, “Oh! mamma, do the +people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; +and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he +should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took +off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that +he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything.” + +Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; +and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to +the dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with +anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say +to her eldest sister, “Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go +lower, because I am a married woman.” + +It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment +from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good +spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and +all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs. Wickham” + by each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show her +ring, and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. + +“Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast +room, “and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I +am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half +my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get +husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.” + +“Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don't +at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?” + +“Oh, lord! yes;--there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all +things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We +shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some +balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.” + +“I should like it beyond anything!” said her mother. + +“And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters +behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the +winter is over.” + +“I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; “but I do not +particularly like your way of getting husbands.” + +Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham +had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join +his regiment at the end of a fortnight. + +No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and +she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and +having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to +all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did +think, than such as did not. + +Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected +to find it; not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her +present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that +their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather +than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring +for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain +that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and +if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity +of having a companion. + +Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every +occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every +thing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on +the first of September, than any body else in the country. + +One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two +elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth: + +“Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You +were not by, when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you +curious to hear how it was managed?” + +“No really,” replied Elizabeth; “I think there cannot be too little said +on the subject.” + +“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were +married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in +that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven +o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others +were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in +such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to +put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was +my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as +if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in +ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed +to know whether he would be married in his blue coat.” + +“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never +be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt +were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe +me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a +fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure London was +rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so +just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon +business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once +they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I +did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we +were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he +came back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However, +I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the +wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.” + +“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement. + +“Oh, yes!--he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious +me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised +them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!” + +“If it was to be secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the +subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.” + +“Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will +ask you no questions.” + +“Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you +all, and then Wickham would be angry.” + +On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her +power, by running away. + +But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least +it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at +her sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, +where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. +Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her +brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as +placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She +could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, +wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what +Lydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been +intended. + +“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be +to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively +speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such +a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is, +for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems +to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with +ignorance.” + +“Not that I _shall_, though,” she added to herself, as she finished +the letter; “and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable +manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it +out.” + +Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to +Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad +of it;--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any +satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante. + + + +Chapter 52 + + +Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as +soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it +than, hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to +be interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches and prepared to +be happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not +contain a denial. + +“Gracechurch street, Sept. 6. + +“MY DEAR NIECE, + +“I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning +to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will not comprise +what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your +application; I did not expect it from _you_. Don't think me angry, +however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such +inquiries to be necessary on _your_ side. If you do not choose to +understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised +as I am--and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned +would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really +innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit. + +“On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most +unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up with him several +hours. It was all over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so +dreadfully racked as _yours_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. +Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, +and that he had seen and talked with them both; Wickham repeatedly, +Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day +after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for +them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to +himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well known as to +make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide +in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and +confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private +actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He +called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy +an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he _had another_ +motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. He had been some days +in town, before he was able to discover them; but he had something to +direct his search, which was more than _we_ had; and the consciousness +of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us. + +“There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago +governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause +of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large +house in Edward-street, and has since maintained herself by letting +lodgings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with +Wickham; and he went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he got to +town. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he +wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and +corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. +Wickham indeed had gone to her on their first arrival in London, and had +she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up +their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the +wished-for direction. They were in ---- street. He saw Wickham, and +afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he +acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful +situation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed +on to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But +he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared +for none of her friends; she wanted no help of his; she would not hear +of leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or +other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings, +it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, +in his very first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt had never +been _his_ design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment, +on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; and +scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia's flight on her +own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately; and as +to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He +must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have +nothing to live on. + +“Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Though +Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able +to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited by +marriage. But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham still +cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in +some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely +to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief. + +“They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham of +course wanted more than he could get; but at length was reduced to be +reasonable. + +“Every thing being settled between _them_, Mr. Darcy's next step was to +make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch +street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not be +seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was +still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge +your father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your +uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the +departure of the former. He did not leave his name, and till the next +day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business. + +“On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at home, +and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together. + +“They met again on Sunday, and then _I_ saw him too. It was not all +settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to +Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that +obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been +accused of many faults at different times, but _this_ is the true one. +Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and +I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your +uncle would most readily have settled the whole. + +“They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either +the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle +was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his +niece, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, +which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter +this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation +that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where +it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no farther than yourself, or Jane +at most. + +“You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young +people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably +more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her own +settled upon _her_, and his commission purchased. The reason why all +this was to be done by him alone, was such as I have given above. It +was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that +Wickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he +had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth +in _this_; though I doubt whether _his_ reserve, or _anybody's_ reserve, +can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking, +my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would +never have yielded, if we had not given him credit for _another +interest_ in the affair. + +“When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who +were still staying at Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in +London once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters were +then to receive the last finish. + +“I believe I have now told you every thing. It is a relation which +you tell me is to give you great surprise; I hope at least it will not +afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to us; and Wickham had constant +admission to the house. _He_ was exactly what he had been, when I +knew him in Hertfordshire; but I would not tell you how little I was +satisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if I had not +perceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming +home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell +you can give you no fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most +serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had +done, and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she +heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was +sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and +Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her. + +“Mr. Darcy was punctual in his return, and as Lydia informed you, +attended the wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave +town again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my +dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold +enough to say before) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has, +in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His +understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little +more liveliness, and _that_, if he marry _prudently_, his wife may teach +him. I thought him very sly;--he hardly ever mentioned your name. But +slyness seems the fashion. + +“Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not +punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy +till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little +pair of ponies, would be the very thing. + +“But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half +hour. + +“Yours, very sincerely, + +“M. GARDINER.” + +The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits, +in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the +greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had +produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's +match, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too +great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the +pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! +He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all +the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which +supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and +despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason +with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to +avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He had +done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her +heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly +checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity +was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her--for +a woman who had already refused him--as able to overcome a sentiment so +natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law +of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, +to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had +given a reason for his interference, which asked no extraordinary +stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been +wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and +though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she +could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist +his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially +concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were +under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. They +owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, every thing, to him. Oh! +how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever +encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. For +herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause +of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself. +She read over her aunt's commendation of him again and again. It +was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some +pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she +and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted +between Mr. Darcy and herself. + +She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some one's +approach; and before she could strike into another path, she was +overtaken by Wickham. + +“I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?” said he, +as he joined her. + +“You certainly do,” she replied with a smile; “but it does not follow +that the interruption must be unwelcome.” + +“I should be sorry indeed, if it were. We were always good friends; and +now we are better.” + +“True. Are the others coming out?” + +“I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to +Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt, that +you have actually seen Pemberley.” + +She replied in the affirmative. + +“I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much +for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the +old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of +me. But of course she did not mention my name to you.” + +“Yes, she did.” + +“And what did she say?” + +“That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had--not turned +out well. At such a distance as _that_, you know, things are strangely +misrepresented.” + +“Certainly,” he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had +silenced him; but he soon afterwards said: + +“I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other +several times. I wonder what he can be doing there.” + +“Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh,” said +Elizabeth. “It must be something particular, to take him there at this +time of year.” + +“Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought I +understood from the Gardiners that you had.” + +“Yes; he introduced us to his sister.” + +“And do you like her?” + +“Very much.” + +“I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year +or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad +you liked her. I hope she will turn out well.” + +“I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age.” + +“Did you go by the village of Kympton?” + +“I do not recollect that we did.” + +“I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to have had. A +most delightful place!--Excellent Parsonage House! It would have suited +me in every respect.” + +“How should you have liked making sermons?” + +“Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, +and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to +repine;--but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The +quiet, the retirement of such a life would have answered all my ideas +of happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the +circumstance, when you were in Kent?” + +“I have heard from authority, which I thought _as good_, that it was +left you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron.” + +“You have. Yes, there was something in _that_; I told you so from the +first, you may remember.” + +“I _did_ hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-making was not +so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually +declared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business +had been compromised accordingly.” + +“You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember +what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it.” + +They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast +to get rid of him; and unwilling, for her sister's sake, to provoke him, +she only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile: + +“Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let +us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one +mind.” + +She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though +he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house. + + + +Chapter 53 + + +Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation that he +never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth, +by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she +had said enough to keep him quiet. + +The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was +forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means +entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to +continue at least a twelvemonth. + +“Oh! my dear Lydia,” she cried, “when shall we meet again?” + +“Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years, perhaps.” + +“Write to me very often, my dear.” + +“As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for +writing. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to +do.” + +Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He +smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. + +“He is as fine a fellow,” said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of +the house, “as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to +us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas +himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law.” + +The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. + +“I often think,” said she, “that there is nothing so bad as parting with +one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them.” + +“This is the consequence, you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter,” said +Elizabeth. “It must make you better satisfied that your other four are +single.” + +“It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married, +but only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If +that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon.” + +But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly +relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an +article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper +at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her +master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several +weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and +smiled and shook her head by turns. + +“Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister,” (for Mrs. +Phillips first brought her the news). “Well, so much the better. Not +that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am +sure _I_ never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome +to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen? +But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to +mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?” + +“You may depend on it,” replied the other, “for Mrs. Nicholls was in +Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose +to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He +comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was +going to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on +Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed.” + +Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing +colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to +Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said: + +“I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present +report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from +any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that +I _should_ be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect +me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes +alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of +_myself_, but I dread other people's remarks.” + +Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in +Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with no +other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial +to Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming +there _with_ his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come +without it. + +“Yet it is hard,” she sometimes thought, “that this poor man cannot +come to a house which he has legally hired, without raising all this +speculation! I _will_ leave him to himself.” + +In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her +feelings in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily +perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, +more unequal, than she had often seen them. + +The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents, +about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again. + +“As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “you +will wait on him of course.” + +“No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if I +went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in +nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again.” + +His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention +would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to +Netherfield. + +“'Tis an etiquette I despise,” said he. “If he wants our society, +let him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours +in running after my neighbours every time they go away and come back +again.” + +“Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait +on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine here, I +am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will +make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for +him.” + +Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her +husband's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her +neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before +_they_ did. As the day of his arrival drew near,-- + +“I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,” said Jane to her sister. “It +would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can +hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well; +but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she +says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!” + +“I wish I could say anything to comfort you,” replied Elizabeth; “but it +is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction +of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have +always so much.” + +Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants, +contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety +and fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She counted +the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent; +hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his +arrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him, from her dressing-room window, +enter the paddock and ride towards the house. + +Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely +kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went +to the window--she looked,--she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down +again by her sister. + +“There is a gentleman with him, mamma,” said Kitty; “who can it be?” + +“Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not +know.” + +“La!” replied Kitty, “it looks just like that man that used to be with +him before. Mr. what's-his-name. That tall, proud man.” + +“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!--and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of +Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must +say that I hate the very sight of him.” + +Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little +of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness +which must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time +after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable +enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their +mother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be +civil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either +of them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be +suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs. +Gardiner's letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. +To Jane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, +and whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive +information, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted +for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an +interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just as +what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming--at his +coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, +was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered +behaviour in Derbyshire. + +The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a +minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to +her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and +wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure. + +“Let me first see how he behaves,” said she; “it will then be early +enough for expectation.” + +She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to +lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of +her sister as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little +paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the +gentlemen's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with +tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any +symptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance. + +Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down +again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She +had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious, as usual; and, +she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as +she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's +presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but +not an improbable, conjecture. + +Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period +saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs. +Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed, +especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of +her curtsey and address to his friend. + +Elizabeth, particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter +the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, +was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill +applied. + +Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question +which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. He +was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but +it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her friends, +when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed without +bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist +the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she as often +found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but +the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when +they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and angry +with herself for being so. + +“Could I expect it to be otherwise!” said she. “Yet why did he come?” + +She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to +him she had hardly courage to speak. + +She inquired after his sister, but could do no more. + +“It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away,” said Mrs. Bennet. + +He readily agreed to it. + +“I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say +you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope +it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood, +since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my +own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have +seen it in the papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know; +though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, 'Lately, +George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a +syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. +It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to +make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?” + +Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth +dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could +not tell. + +“It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,” + continued her mother, “but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very +hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to +Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay +I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have +heard of his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the +regulars. Thank Heaven! he has _some_ friends, though perhaps not so +many as he deserves.” + +Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such +misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, +however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually +done before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in +the country at present. A few weeks, he believed. + +“When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,” said her mother, +“I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr. +Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and +will save all the best of the covies for you.” + +Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious +attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had +flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be +hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, she felt +that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for +moments of such painful confusion. + +“The first wish of my heart,” said she to herself, “is never more to +be in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure +that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either +one or the other again!” + +Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no +compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing +how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her +former lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little; +but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He +found her as handsome as she had been last year; as good natured, and +as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no +difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded +that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged, +that she did not always know when she was silent. + +When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her +intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at +Longbourn in a few days time. + +“You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley,” she added, “for when +you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with +us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure +you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep +your engagement.” + +Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of +his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away. + +Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine +there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did +not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man +on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride +of one who had ten thousand a year. + + + +Chapter 54 + + +As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits; +or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that +must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her. + +“Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,” said she, +“did he come at all?” + +She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure. + +“He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, when +he was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If +he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing, man! I will +think no more about him.” + +Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach +of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which showed her +better satisfied with their visitors, than Elizabeth. + +“Now,” said she, “that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly +easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by +his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly +seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent +acquaintance.” + +“Yes, very indifferent indeed,” said Elizabeth, laughingly. “Oh, Jane, +take care.” + +“My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now?” + +“I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with +you as ever.” + + * * * * * + +They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in +the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good +humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had +revived. + +On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two +who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality +as sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the +dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take +the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by +her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore +to invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to +hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was +decided. He placed himself by her. + +Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. +He bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that +Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes +likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing +alarm. + +His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as showed an +admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded +Elizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his +own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the +consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It +gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in +no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as the table +could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little +such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to +advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but +she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and +cold was their manner whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness, +made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind; +and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell +him that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the +family. + +She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of +bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away +without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation than +the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious +and uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the +gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her +uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all +her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend. + +“If he does not come to me, _then_,” said she, “I shall give him up for +ever.” + +The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have +answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table, +where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee, +in so close a confederacy that there was not a single vacancy near her +which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of +the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper: + +“The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them; +do we?” + +Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with +her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough +to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for +being so silly! + +“A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to +expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not +protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? +There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!” + +She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup +himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying: + +“Is your sister at Pemberley still?” + +“Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.” + +“And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?” + +“Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough, +these three weeks.” + +She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse +with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for +some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady's whispering +to Elizabeth again, he walked away. + +When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed, the ladies +all rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, +when all her views were overthrown by seeing him fall a victim to her +mother's rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated +with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure. +They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had +nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side +of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself. + +Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to +supper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the +others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them. + +“Well girls,” said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, “What +say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well, +I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The +venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said they never saw so +fat a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the +Lucases' last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged, that the partridges +were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French +cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater +beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And +what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her +at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good +a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls, +and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously.” + +Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of +Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at +last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy +humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at +not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals. + +“It has been a very agreeable day,” said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. “The +party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we +may often meet again.” + +Elizabeth smiled. + +“Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. +I assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an +agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am +perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had +any design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed +with greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally +pleasing, than any other man.” + +“You are very cruel,” said her sister, “you will not let me smile, and +are provoking me to it every moment.” + +“How hard it is in some cases to be believed!” + +“And how impossible in others!” + +“But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I +acknowledge?” + +“That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to +instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive +me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante.” + + + +Chapter 55 + + +A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His +friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in +ten days time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably +good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many +expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere. + +“Next time you call,” said she, “I hope we shall be more lucky.” + +He should be particularly happy at any time, etc. etc.; and if she would +give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them. + +“Can you come to-morrow?” + +Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was +accepted with alacrity. + +He came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them +dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing +gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out: + +“My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is +come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss +Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss +Lizzy's hair.” + +“We will be down as soon as we can,” said Jane; “but I dare say Kitty is +forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago.” + +“Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! +Where is your sash, my dear?” + +But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down +without one of her sisters. + +The same anxiety to get them by themselves was visible again in the +evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his +custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of +the five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at +Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any +impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last +Kitty did, she very innocently said, “What is the matter mamma? What do +you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?” + +“Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you.” She then sat still +five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she +suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, “Come here, my love, I want to +speak to you,” took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look +at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such premeditation, and her +entreaty that _she_ would not give in to it. In a few minutes, Mrs. +Bennet half-opened the door and called out: + +“Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.” + +Elizabeth was forced to go. + +“We may as well leave them by themselves you know;” said her mother, as +soon as she was in the hall. “Kitty and I are going up stairs to sit in +my dressing-room.” + +Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained +quietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned +into the drawing-room. + +Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every +thing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His +ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their +evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the +mother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command +of countenance particularly grateful to the daughter. + +He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went +away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. +Bennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband. + +After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed +between the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in +the happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy +returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably +persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's +concurrence. + +Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent +the morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more +agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption +or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into +silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric, than the +other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner; +and in the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get +every body away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter +to write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea; +for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be +wanted to counteract her mother's schemes. + +But on returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished, she +saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother +had been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her +sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in +earnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of +both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would +have told it all. Their situation was awkward enough; but _hers_ she +thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either; and +Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, who as +well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a few +words to her sister, ran out of the room. + +Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give +pleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest +emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. + +“'Tis too much!” she added, “by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! +why is not everybody as happy?” + +Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, +a delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of +kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not +allow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be +said for the present. + +“I must go instantly to my mother;” she cried. “I would not on any +account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it +from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to +know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear +family! how shall I bear so much happiness!” + +She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the +card party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty. + +Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease +with which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so many +previous months of suspense and vexation. + +“And this,” said she, “is the end of all his friend's anxious +circumspection! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the +happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!” + +In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her +father had been short and to the purpose. + +“Where is your sister?” said he hastily, as he opened the door. + +“With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say.” + +He then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishes +and affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed +her delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with +great cordiality; and then, till her sister came down, she had to listen +to all he had to say of his own happiness, and of Jane's perfections; +and in spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his +expectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had for +basis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of +Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and +himself. + +It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of +Miss Bennet's mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as +made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped +her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent or +speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, +though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour; and when +Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed +how really happy he was. + +Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their +visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he +turned to his daughter, and said: + +“Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.” + +Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his +goodness. + +“You are a good girl;” he replied, “and I have great pleasure in +thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your +doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are +each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so +easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will +always exceed your income.” + +“I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be +unpardonable in me.” + +“Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet,” cried his wife, “what are you +talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely +more.” Then addressing her daughter, “Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so +happy! I am sure I shan't get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it +would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not +be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when +he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was +that you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that +ever was seen!” + +Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her +favourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger +sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness +which she might in future be able to dispense. + +Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty +begged very hard for a few balls there every winter. + +Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn; +coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after +supper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough +detested, had given him an invitation to dinner which he thought himself +obliged to accept. + +Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for +while he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on anyone else; +but she found herself considerably useful to both of them in those hours +of separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane, he +always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of +her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of +relief. + +“He has made me so happy,” said she, one evening, “by telling me that he +was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed +it possible.” + +“I suspected as much,” replied Elizabeth. “But how did he account for +it?” + +“It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to +his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have +chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, +as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will +learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we +can never be what we once were to each other.” + +“That is the most unforgiving speech,” said Elizabeth, “that I ever +heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again +the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard.” + +“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, +he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of _my_ being +indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!” + +“He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his +modesty.” + +This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and +the little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased +to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for, +though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she +knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her against him. + +“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” cried +Jane. “Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed +above them all! If I could but see _you_ as happy! If there _were_ but +such another man for you!” + +“If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as +you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your +happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very +good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.” + +The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a +secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Phillips, +and she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her +neighbours in Meryton. + +The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the +world, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, +they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune. + + + +Chapter 56 + + +One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been +formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the +dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the +sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up +the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the +equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses +were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who +preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that +somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid +the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the +shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three +continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown +open and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh. + +They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their +astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. +Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even +inferior to what Elizabeth felt. + +She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no +other reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the +head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her +name to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of +introduction had been made. + +Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such +high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting +for a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth, + +“I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your +mother.” + +Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was. + +“And _that_ I suppose is one of your sisters.” + +“Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to Lady Catherine. +“She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, +and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man +who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family.” + +“You have a very small park here,” returned Lady Catherine after a short +silence. + +“It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I +assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's.” + +“This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in +summer; the windows are full west.” + +Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then +added: + +“May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and +Mrs. Collins well.” + +“Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last.” + +Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from +Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no +letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled. + +Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some +refreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, +declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth, + +“Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness +on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you +will favour me with your company.” + +“Go, my dear,” cried her mother, “and show her ladyship about the +different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage.” + +Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, +attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the +hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and +drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent +looking rooms, walked on. + +Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her +waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk +that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for +conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and +disagreeable. + +“How could I ever think her like her nephew?” said she, as she looked in +her face. + +As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following +manner:-- + +“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my +journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I +come.” + +Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. + +“Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account +for the honour of seeing you here.” + +“Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to +know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere _you_ may +choose to be, you shall not find _me_ so. My character has ever been +celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such +moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most +alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your +sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that +you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon +afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I +_know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him +so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved +on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to +you.” + +“If you believed it impossible to be true,” said Elizabeth, colouring +with astonishment and disdain, “I wonder you took the trouble of coming +so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?” + +“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.” + +“Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,” said Elizabeth +coolly, “will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report +is in existence.” + +“If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been +industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a +report is spread abroad?” + +“I never heard that it was.” + +“And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?” + +“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may +ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.” + +“This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has +he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?” + +“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.” + +“It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his +reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, +have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You +may have drawn him in.” + +“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.” + +“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such +language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, +and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.” + +“But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, +ever induce me to be explicit.” + +“Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the +presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is +engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?” + +“Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will +make an offer to me.” + +Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied: + +“The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, +they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of +_his_ mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned +the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would +be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of +inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to +the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his +tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of +propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest +hours he was destined for his cousin?” + +“Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is +no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not +be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to +marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the +marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither +by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make +another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?” + +“Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, +Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or +friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will +be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. +Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned +by any of us.” + +“These are heavy misfortunes,” replied Elizabeth. “But the wife of Mr. +Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily +attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause +to repine.” + +“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude +for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that +score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came +here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will +I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's +whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.” + +“_That_ will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; +but it will have no effect on me.” + +“I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my +nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal +side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, +honourable, and ancient--though untitled--families. Their fortune on +both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of +every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? +The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, +or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you +were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in +which you have been brought up.” + +“In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that +sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are +equal.” + +“True. You _are_ a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? +Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their +condition.” + +“Whatever my connections may be,” said Elizabeth, “if your nephew does +not object to them, they can be nothing to _you_.” + +“Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?” + +Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady +Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a +moment's deliberation: + +“I am not.” + +Lady Catherine seemed pleased. + +“And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?” + +“I will make no promise of the kind.” + +“Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more +reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that +I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the +assurance I require.” + +“And I certainly _never_ shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into +anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry +your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their +marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would +my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? +Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have +supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the +application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if +you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your +nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; +but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, +therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject.” + +“Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the +objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am +no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous +elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a +patched-up business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is +such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, is the son of his +late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!--of what are +you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?” + +“You can now have nothing further to say,” she resentfully answered. +“You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to +the house.” + +And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned +back. Her ladyship was highly incensed. + +“You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! +Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you +must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?” + +“Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.” + +“You are then resolved to have him?” + +“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, +which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without +reference to _you_, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.” + +“It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the +claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in +the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.” + +“Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,” replied Elizabeth, “have any +possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either +would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the +resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former +_were_ excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's +concern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in +the scorn.” + +“And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. +I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your +ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you +reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point.” + +In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of +the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added, “I take no leave +of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your mother. You deserve +no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.” + +Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her +ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She +heard the carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. Her mother +impatiently met her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady +Catherine would not come in again and rest herself. + +“She did not choose it,” said her daughter, “she would go.” + +“She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously +civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were +well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing through +Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had +nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?” + +Elizabeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to +acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible. + + + +Chapter 57 + + +The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit threw +Elizabeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she, for many +hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine, it +appeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings, +for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr. +Darcy. It was a rational scheme, to be sure! but from what the report +of their engagement could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine; +till she recollected that _his_ being the intimate friend of Bingley, +and _her_ being the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the +expectation of one wedding made everybody eager for another, to supply +the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her +sister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours +at Lucas Lodge, therefore (for through their communication with the +Collinses, the report, she concluded, had reached Lady Catherine), had +only set that down as almost certain and immediate, which she had looked +forward to as possible at some future time. + +In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help +feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting +in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to +prevent their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate +an application to her nephew; and how _he_ might take a similar +representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared +not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his +aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose +that he thought much higher of her ladyship than _she_ could do; and it +was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with _one_, +whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would +address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would +probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak +and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning. + +If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had often +seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might +settle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity +unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady +Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to +Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way. + +“If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his +friend within a few days,” she added, “I shall know how to understand +it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his +constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might +have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him +at all.” + + * * * * * + +The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had +been, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same +kind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and +Elizabeth was spared from much teasing on the subject. + +The next morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by her +father, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand. + +“Lizzy,” said he, “I was going to look for you; come into my room.” + +She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to +tell her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner +connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it +might be from Lady Catherine; and she anticipated with dismay all the +consequent explanations. + +She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. He +then said, + +“I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me +exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its +contents. I did not know before, that I had two daughters on the brink +of matrimony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest.” + +The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous +conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt; +and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained +himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to +herself; when her father continued: + +“You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters +as these; but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity, to discover the +name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins.” + +“From Mr. Collins! and what can _he_ have to say?” + +“Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with +congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of +which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping +Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says +on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows: 'Having thus +offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on +this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; +of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter +Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after +her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may +be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in +this land.' + +“Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this? 'This young +gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of +mortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive +patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin +Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate +closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be +inclined to take immediate advantage of.' + +“Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out: + +“'My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine +that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with +a friendly eye.' + +“_Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_ +surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man within +the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie +more effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any +woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his +life! It is admirable!” + +Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force +one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so +little agreeable to her. + +“Are you not diverted?” + +“Oh! yes. Pray read on.” + +“'After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last +night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she +felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some +family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her +consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty +to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and +her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run +hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.' Mr. +Collins moreover adds, 'I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad +business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their +living together before the marriage took place should be so generally +known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain +from declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young +couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an +encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should +very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them, +as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their +names to be mentioned in your hearing.' That is his notion of Christian +forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's +situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you +look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be _missish_, +I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we +live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our +turn?” + +“Oh!” cried Elizabeth, “I am excessively diverted. But it is so +strange!” + +“Yes--_that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man +it would have been nothing; but _his_ perfect indifference, and _your_ +pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate +writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any +consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving +him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and +hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine +about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?” + +To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had +been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by +his repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her +feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she +would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by +what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but +wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of +his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much. + + + +Chapter 58 + + +Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as +Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy +with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's +visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time +to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat +in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed +their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the +habit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining five +set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others +to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy +were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty +was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a +desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same. + +They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon +Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, +when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the +moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was +high, she immediately said: + +“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving +relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I +can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my +poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to +acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest +of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.” + +“I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise +and emotion, “that you have ever been informed of what may, in a +mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner +was so little to be trusted.” + +“You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to +me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could +not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, +in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced +you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the +sake of discovering them.” + +“If you _will_ thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone. +That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other +inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your +_family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought +only of _you_.” + +Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, +her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your +feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. _My_ +affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence +me on this subject for ever.” + +Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of +his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not +very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone +so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make +her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The +happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never +felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as +warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth +been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the +expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; +but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of +feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his +affection every moment more valuable. + +They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to +be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She +soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding +to the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return through +London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the +substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on +every expression of the latter which, in her ladyship's apprehension, +peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance; in the belief that +such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise +from her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for her +ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise. + +“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself +to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, +had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have +acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.” + +Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes, you know enough +of my frankness to believe me capable of _that_. After abusing you so +abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all +your relations.” + +“What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your +accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my +behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was +unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.” + +“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that +evening,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, +will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved +in civility.” + +“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I +then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of +it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your +reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a +more gentlemanlike manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you can +scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;--though it was some time, +I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice.” + +“I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an +impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such +a way.” + +“I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper +feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never +forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible +way that would induce you to accept me.” + +“Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at +all. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it.” + +Darcy mentioned his letter. “Did it,” said he, “did it soon make you +think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its +contents?” + +She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her +former prejudices had been removed. + +“I knew,” said he, “that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was +necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part +especially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the +power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might +justly make you hate me.” + +“The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the +preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my +opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily +changed as that implies.” + +“When I wrote that letter,” replied Darcy, “I believed myself perfectly +calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a +dreadful bitterness of spirit.” + +“The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The +adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings +of the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now +so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant +circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some +of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you +pleasure.” + +“I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your +retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment +arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of +innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude +which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish +being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I +was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I +was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. +Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt +by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all +that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught +me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family +circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least +to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I +was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been +but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You +taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, +I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. +You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman +worthy of being pleased.” + +“Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?” + +“Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be +wishing, expecting my addresses.” + +“My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure +you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me +wrong. How you must have hated me after _that_ evening?” + +“Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take +a proper direction.” + +“I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at +Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?” + +“No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise.” + +“Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you. +My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I +confess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due.” + +“My object then,” replied Darcy, “was to show you, by every civility in +my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to +obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you +see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes +introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an +hour after I had seen you.” + +He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her +disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to +the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of +following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed +before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness +there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must +comprehend. + +She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to +each, to be dwelt on farther. + +After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know +anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that +it was time to be at home. + +“What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!” was a wonder which +introduced the discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with +their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of +it. + +“I must ask whether you were surprised?” said Elizabeth. + +“Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.” + +“That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.” And +though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much +the case. + +“On the evening before my going to London,” said he, “I made a +confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I +told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his +affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had +the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself +mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent +to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was +unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together.” + +Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his +friend. + +“Did you speak from your own observation,” said she, “when you told him +that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?” + +“From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits +which I had lately made here; and I was convinced of her affection.” + +“And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to +him.” + +“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had +prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but +his reliance on mine made every thing easy. I was obliged to confess +one thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not +allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months +last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was +angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained +in any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me +now.” + +Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful +friend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked +herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, +and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness +of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he +continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they +parted. + + + +Chapter 59 + + +“My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?” was a question +which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered their room, +and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to +say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own +knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything +else, awakened a suspicion of the truth. + +The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The +acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. +Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; +and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy +than _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, +there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt +in the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no +one liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a +dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away. + +At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far +from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here. + +“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!--engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, +you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.” + +“This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and +I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am +in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are +engaged.” + +Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much +you dislike him.” + +“You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I +did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as +these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever +remember it myself.” + +Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more +seriously assured her of its truth. + +“Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,” cried +Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would--I do congratulate you--but are you +certain? forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be +happy with him?” + +“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that +we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, +Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?” + +“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more +delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you +really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than +marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought +to do?” + +“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do, when I +tell you all.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am +afraid you will be angry.” + +“My dearest sister, now _be_ serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let +me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me +how long you have loved him?” + +“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. +But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds +at Pemberley.” + +Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the +desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances +of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing +further to wish. + +“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for you will be as happy as myself. +I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, +I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your +husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But +Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you +tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know +of it to another, not to you.” + +Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling +to mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made +her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer +conceal from her his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged, +and half the night spent in conversation. + + * * * * * + +“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next +morning, “if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with +our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always +coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or +other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? +Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's +way.” + +Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet +was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an +epithet. + +As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and +shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; +and he soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes +hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?” + +“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk +to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has +never seen the view.” + +“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley; “but I am +sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty?” Kitty owned that +she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see +the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went +up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying: + +“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that +disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is +all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking +to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to +inconvenience.” + +During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be +asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the +application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother +would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur +would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she +were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it +was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit +to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear +the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her +disapprobation. + + * * * * * + +In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw +Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was +extreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to +be made unhappy; and that it should be through her means--that _she_, +his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be +filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her--was a wretched +reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, +looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes +he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while +pretending to admire her work said in a whisper, “Go to your father, he +wants you in the library.” She was gone directly. + +Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. +“Lizzy,” said he, “what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be +accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?” + +How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more +reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from +explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; +but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion, +of her attachment to Mr. Darcy. + +“Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be +sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. +But will they make you happy?” + +“Have you any other objection,” said Elizabeth, “than your belief of my +indifference?” + +“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but +this would be nothing if you really liked him.” + +“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tears in her eyes, “I love him. +Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not +know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in +such terms.” + +“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given him my consent. He is the kind +of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he +condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on +having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know +your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor +respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked +up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the +greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape +discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing +_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are +about.” + +Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and +at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object +of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of +him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection +was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months' +suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did +conquer her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match. + +“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceased speaking, “I have no more to +say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with +you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.” + +To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy +had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment. + +“This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing; +made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him +his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble +and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and _would_ have +paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own +way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about +his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.” + +He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading +Mr. Collins's letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her +at last to go--saying, as she quitted the room, “If any young men come +for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.” + +Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after +half an hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join +the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for +gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer +anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity +would come in time. + +When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her, +and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary; +for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to +utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes that she could +comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit +what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a +lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in +her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself. + +“Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would +have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich +and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages +you will have! Jane's is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so +pleased--so happy. Such a charming man!--so handsome! so tall!--Oh, my +dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I +hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing +that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, +Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted.” + +This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and +Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, +soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, +her mother followed her. + +“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can think of nothing else! Ten +thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a +special licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But +my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, +that I may have it to-morrow.” + +This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman +himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain +possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' +consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow +passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood +in such awe of her intended son-in-law that she ventured not to speak to +him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her +deference for his opinion. + +Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get +acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising +every hour in his esteem. + +“I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,” said he. “Wickham, perhaps, +is my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well +as Jane's.” + + + +Chapter 60 + + +Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. +Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. “How could +you begin?” said she. “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when +you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first +place?” + +“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which +laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I +knew that I _had_ begun.” + +“My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviour +to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke +to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; +did you admire me for my impertinence?” + +“For the liveliness of your mind, I did.” + +“You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. +The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious +attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, +and looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, and +interested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been really +amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you +took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and +in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously +courted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for +it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly +reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinks +of _that_ when they fall in love.” + +“Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane while she was +ill at Netherfield?” + +“Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it +by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are +to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me +to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may +be; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwilling +to come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first +called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did +you look as if you did not care about me?” + +“Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.” + +“But I was embarrassed.” + +“And so was I.” + +“You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.” + +“A man who had felt less, might.” + +“How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that +I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you +_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when +you _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of +thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. +_Too much_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort +springs from a breach of promise? for I ought not to have mentioned the +subject. This will never do.” + +“You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady +Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of +removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to +your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour +to wait for any opening of yours. My aunt's intelligence had given me +hope, and I was determined at once to know every thing.” + +“Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, +for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to +Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? +or had you intended any more serious consequence?” + +“My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether I +might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to +myself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley, +and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.” + +“Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to +befall her?” + +“I am more likely to want more time than courage, Elizabeth. But it +ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be +done directly.” + +“And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and +admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But +I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.” + +From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy +had been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's +long letter; but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew would +be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and +aunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as +follows: + +“I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, +for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say the +truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. +But _now_ suppose as much as you choose; give a loose rein to your +fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the +subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you +cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a +great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, +for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your +idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I +am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so +before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she +only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that +he can spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas. +Yours, etc.” + +Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style; and still +different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in reply +to his last. + +“DEAR SIR, + +“I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon +be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. +But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give. + +“Yours sincerely, etc.” + +Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approaching +marriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even +to Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her +former professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was +affected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing +her a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved. + +The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, +was as sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were +insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of +being loved by her sister. + +Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations +to Elizabeth from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the +Collinses were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The reason of this +sudden removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered +so exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that +Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till +the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend +was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their +meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she +saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of +her husband. He bore it, however, with admirable calmness. He could even +listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away +the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all +meeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he did +shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight. + +Mrs. Phillips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater, tax on his +forbearance; and though Mrs. Phillips, as well as her sister, stood in +too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good +humour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar. +Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all +likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to shield +him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep +him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse +without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising +from all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it +added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to +the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing +to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at +Pemberley. + + + +Chapter 61 + + +Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got +rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride +she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may +be guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the +accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many +of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, +amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps it +was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity +in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and +invariably silly. + +Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her +drew him oftener from home than anything else could do. He delighted in +going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected. + +Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near +a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to +_his_ easy temper, or _her_ affectionate heart. The darling wish of his +sisters was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighbouring county +to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source +of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other. + +Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with +her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally +known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a +temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example, +she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less +ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia's +society she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham +frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of +balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going. + +Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily +drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite +unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but +she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no +longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, +it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without +much reluctance. + +As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from +the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that +Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude +and falsehood had before been unknown to her; and in spite of every +thing, was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on +to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received +from Lydia on her marriage, explained to her that, by his wife at least, +if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was to this +effect: + +“MY DEAR LIZZY, + +“I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear +Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so +rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. +I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not +think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. +Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but however, +do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not. + +“Yours, etc.” + +As it happened that Elizabeth had _much_ rather not, she endeavoured in +her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. +Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice +of what might be called economy in her own private expences, she +frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an +income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in +their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to +their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or +herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance +towards discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the +restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the +extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap +situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for +her soon sunk into indifference; hers lasted a little longer; and +in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to +reputation which her marriage had given her. + +Though Darcy could never receive _him_ at Pemberley, yet, for +Elizabeth's sake, he assisted him further in his profession. Lydia was +occasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself +in London or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently +staid so long, that even Bingley's good humour was overcome, and he +proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone. + +Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as she +thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she +dropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as +attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility +to Elizabeth. + +Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the sisters +was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each +other even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion +in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with +an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner of +talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect +which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open +pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen +in her way. By Elizabeth's instructions, she began to comprehend that +a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not +always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. + +Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; +and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in +her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him +language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time +all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, +he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation; +and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her +resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity +to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait +on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had +received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the +visits of her uncle and aunt from the city. + +With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. +Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever +sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing +her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE *** + +***** This file should be named 1342-0.txt or 1342-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1342/ + +Produced by Anonymous Volunteers + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/src/datastructure/stack/Array.java b/src/datastructure/stack/Array.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7cd734 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/stack/Array.java @@ -0,0 +1,157 @@ +package datastructure.stack; + +public class Array { + + private E[] data; + private int size; + + // 构造函数，传入数组的容量capacity构造Array + public Array(int capacity){ + data = (E[])new Object[capacity]; + size = 0; + } + + // 无参数的构造函数，默认数组的容量capacity=10 + public Array(){ + this(10); + } + + // 获取数组的容量 + public int getCapacity(){ + return data.length; + } + + // 获取数组中的元素个数 + public int getSize(){ + return size; + } + + // 返回数组是否为空 + public boolean isEmpty(){ + return size == 0; + } + + // 在index索引的位置插入一个新元素e + public void add(int index, E e){ + + if(index < 0 || index > size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Add failed. Require index >= 0 and index <= size."); + + if(size == data.length) + resize(2 * data.length); + + for(int i = size - 1; i >= index ; i --) + data[i + 1] = data[i]; + + data[index] = e; + + size ++; + } + + // 向所有元素后添加一个新元素 + public void addLast(E e){ + add(size, e); + } + + // 在所有元素前添加一个新元素 + public void addFirst(E e){ + add(0, e); + } + + // 获取index索引位置的元素 + public E get(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Get failed. Index is illegal."); + return data[index]; + } + + public E getLast(){ + return get(size - 1); + } + + public E getFirst(){ + return get(0); + } + + // 修改index索引位置的元素为e + public void set(int index, E e){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Set failed. Index is illegal."); + data[index] = e; + } + + // 查找数组中是否有元素e + public boolean contains(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return true; + } + return false; + } + + // 查找数组中元素e所在的索引，如果不存在元素e，则返回-1 + public int find(E e){ + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + if(data[i].equals(e)) + return i; + } + return -1; + } + + // 从数组中删除index位置的元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E remove(int index){ + if(index < 0 || index >= size) + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Remove failed. Index is illegal."); + + E ret = data[index]; + for(int i = index + 1 ; i < size ; i ++) + data[i - 1] = data[i]; + size --; + data[size] = null; // loitering objects != memory leak + + if(size == data.length / 4 && data.length / 2 != 0) + resize(data.length / 2); + return ret; + } + + // 从数组中删除第一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeFirst(){ + return remove(0); + } + + // 从数组中删除最后一个元素, 返回删除的元素 + public E removeLast(){ + return remove(size - 1); + } + + // 从数组中删除元素e + public void removeElement(E e){ + int index = find(e); + if(index != -1) + remove(index); + } + + @Override + public String toString(){ + + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append(String.format("Array: size = %d , capacity = %d\n", size, data.length)); + res.append('['); + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++){ + res.append(data[i]); + if(i != size - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append(']'); + return res.toString(); + } + + // 将数组空间的容量变成newCapacity大小 + private void resize(int newCapacity){ + + E[] newData = (E[])new Object[newCapacity]; + for(int i = 0 ; i < size ; i ++) + newData[i] = data[i]; + data = newData; + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/stack/ArrayStack.java b/src/datastructure/stack/ArrayStack.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae71c24 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/stack/ArrayStack.java @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +package datastructure.stack; + +public class ArrayStack implements Stack { + + private Array array; + + public ArrayStack(int capacity) { + array = new Array<>(capacity); + } + + public ArrayStack() { + array = new Array<>(); + } + + @Override + public int getSize() { + return array.getSize(); + } + + @Override + public boolean isEmpty() { + return array.isEmpty(); + } + + public int getCapacity() { + return array.getCapacity(); + } + + @Override + public void push(E e) { + array.addLast(e); + } + + @Override + public E pop() { + return array.removeLast(); + } + + @Override + public E peek() { + return array.getLast(); + } + + @Override + public String toString() { + StringBuilder res = new StringBuilder(); + res.append("Stack: "); + res.append('['); + for (int i = 0; i < array.getSize(); i++) { + res.append(array.get(i)); + if (i != array.getSize() - 1) + res.append(", "); + } + res.append("] top"); + return res.toString(); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/stack/Solution.java b/src/datastructure/stack/Solution.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a77d63 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/stack/Solution.java @@ -0,0 +1,33 @@ +package datastructure.stack; + +class Solution { + + public boolean isValid(String s) { + + ArrayStack stack = new ArrayStack<>(); + for(int i = 0 ; i < s.length() ; i ++){ + char c = s.charAt(i); + if(c == '(' || c == '[' || c == '{') + stack.push(c); + else{ + if(stack.isEmpty()) + return false; + + char topChar = stack.pop(); + if(c == ')' && topChar != '(') + return false; + if(c == ']' && topChar != '[') + return false; + if(c == '}' && topChar != '{') + return false; + } + } + return stack.isEmpty(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) { + + System.out.println((new Solution()).isValid("()[]{}")); + System.out.println((new Solution()).isValid("([)]")); + } +} diff --git a/src/datastructure/stack/Stack.java b/src/datastructure/stack/Stack.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fc8d87 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/datastructure/stack/Stack.java @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +package datastructure.stack; + +public interface Stack { + + int getSize(); + boolean isEmpty(); + void push(E e); + E pop(); + E peek(); +} diff --git a/src/stack/Node.java b/src/datastructure/stack_old/Node.java similarity index 100% rename from src/stack/Node.java rename to src/datastructure/stack_old/Node.java diff --git a/src/stack/Stack.java b/src/datastructure/stack_old/Stack.java similarity index 100% rename from src/stack/Stack.java rename to src/datastructure/stack_old/Stack.java diff --git a/src/stack/StackTest.java b/src/datastructure/stack_old/StackTest.java similarity index 100% rename from src/stack/StackTest.java rename to src/datastructure/stack_old/StackTest.java diff --git a/src/tree/TreeNode.java b/src/datastructure/tree_old/TreeNode.java similarity index 100% rename from src/tree/TreeNode.java rename to src/datastructure/tree_old/TreeNode.java diff --git a/src/tree/TreeRoot.java b/src/datastructure/tree_old/TreeRoot.java similarity index 100% rename from src/tree/TreeRoot.java rename to src/datastructure/tree_old/TreeRoot.java diff --git a/src/tree/TreeTest.java b/src/datastructure/tree_old/TreeTest.java similarity index 100% rename from src/tree/TreeTest.java rename to src/datastructure/tree_old/TreeTest.java diff --git a/src/sort/HeapifySort.java b/src/sort/HeapifySort.java index 89342af..ec87673 100644 --- a/src/sort/HeapifySort.java +++ b/src/sort/HeapifySort.java @@ -10,37 +10,34 @@ public class HeapifySort { public static void main(String[] args) { - int[] arrays = {6, 3, 8, 7, 5, 1, 2, 23, 4321, 432, 3,2,34234,2134,1234,5,132423, 234, 4, 2, 4, 1, 5, 2, 5}; + int[] arrays = {6, 3, 8, 5,2,-1,-5,-2,-6,345,7, 5, 1, 2, 23, 4321, 432, 3, 2, 34234, 2134, 1234, 5, 132423, 234, 4, 2, 4, 1, 5, 2, 5}; - for (int i = 0; i < arrays.length; i++) { - - //每完成一次建堆就可以排除一个元素了 - maxHeapify(arrays, arrays.length - i); + // 完成一次建堆.. + maxHeapify(arrays, arrays.length - 1); + int size = arrays.length - 1; + for (int i = 0; i < arrays.length; i++) { //交换 int temp = arrays[0]; arrays[0] = arrays[(arrays.length - 1) - i]; arrays[(arrays.length - 1) - i] = temp; + // 调整位置 + heapify(arrays, 0, size); + size--; } - System.out.println("公众号：Java3y" + arrays); - - } /** * 完成一次建堆，最大值在堆的顶部(根节点) */ public static void maxHeapify(int[] arrays, int size) { - for (int i = size - 1; i >= 0; i--) { heapify(arrays, i, size); } - } - /** * 建堆 * diff --git a/src/sort/InsertSort.java b/src/sort/InsertSort.java index 3f52bd6..46418ee 100644 --- a/src/sort/InsertSort.java +++ b/src/sort/InsertSort.java @@ -78,7 +78,6 @@ public static void sort(int[] arrays) { temp = arrays[i]; //如果前一位(已排序的数据)比当前数据要大，那么就进入循环比较[参考第二趟排序] - int j = i - 1; while (j >= 0 && arrays[j] > temp) { diff --git a/src/sort/QuickSort.java b/src/sort/QuickSort.java index 1045d3e..f4ad20e 100644 --- a/src/sort/QuickSort.java +++ b/src/sort/QuickSort.java @@ -10,14 +10,12 @@ public class QuickSort { public static void main(String[] args) { - int[] arr = {1, 4, 5, 67, 2, 7, 8, 6, 9, 44}; + //int[] arr = {1, 4, 5, 67, 2, 7, 8, 6, 9, 44, 34, 5, 5, 2, 34, 5, 62, 42, 1, 1324, 2346}; + int[] arr = {23, 34, 33, 56, 45}; + quickSort(arr, 0, arr.length - 1); - quickSort(arr, 0, 9); System.out.println("Java3y " + arr); - - - } /** @@ -65,4 +63,60 @@ public static void quickSort(int[] arr, int L, int R) { if (i < R) quickSort(arr, i, R); } + + + + //-----------------Stack方式实现快速排序 + public static void print(int[] arr) { + for (int n = 0; n < arr.length; n++) { + System.out.print(arr[n] + " "); + } + System.out.println(); + } + + public static void fun(int[] a, int low, int high) { + Stack stack = new Stack<>(); + if (low < high) { + stack.add(low); + stack.add(high); + while (!stack.isEmpty()) { + int hi = stack.pop(); + int lo = stack.pop(); + int key = partition(a, lo, hi); + if (lo < key - 1) { + stack.push(lo); + stack.push(key - 1); + } + if (hi > key) { + stack.push(key + 1); + stack.push(hi);//这样，最后入栈的就是key右边的部分，则下一次循环先处理key右边的部分 + } + } + } + } + + public static int partition(int[] a, int low, int high) { + + // 选第一个元素作为key + int key = a[low]; + + while (low < high) { + + // 右边找到比key还要小的 + while (a[high] >= key && low < high) { + high--; + } + + a[low] = a[high]; + + // 左边找到比key要大的 + while (a[low] <= key && low < high) {//小于于等于key的数组元素不需要移动 + low++; + } + a[high] = a[low]; + } + a[low] = key; + print(a); + return low; + } }