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 ave 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 an 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 wail.

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 hillside, 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 hillside 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 some thing--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 sped 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 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 connexion 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 Ray 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 I throughout Defarge held him by the collar, as if to restrain him from flying at the objects of his brief devotion and tearing them 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 today,' said Madame Defarge, with a wave of her hand towards the place where they had last been apparent; `now, go home!'

德伐日先生酒馆的客人比平时来得早。早在清晨六点几张黄瘦的面孔已在往带栏杆的窗户里偷看，而那时便已见到许多人躬着身子、捧着酒杯。德伐日先生即使在生意兴隆时也只卖一种很淡的酒。但他这一天卖的酒似乎淡得出奇，而且酸涩，倒不如叫“辛酸酒”，因为它对喝酒的人产生一种阴郁的影响。欢快的酒神的火苗是无法从德伐日先生压榨出的葡萄汁上燃起来的，它的酒渣里也隐藏着一种在黑暗里闷着燃烧的火。

这已是德伐日先生酒店里连续第三天喝早早酒了。是从星期一开始的，而今天已是星期三。其实在早上喝下的酒还不如思考的多，因为许多男人从开门时起便在那儿溜来溜去，听别人说话，自己也说话，而这些人即使是为了拯救自己的灵魂也是付不起酒帐的。可他们对酒店的兴趣却很大，仿佛可以买得起大桶大桶的酒似的。他们从一个座位到另一个座位，从一个角落到另一个角落溜来溜去，眼里闪着贪婪的光，吞下的却不是酒，而是话语。

尽管客人多得出奇，酒店老板却不见了，也没有人想起他，因为踏进门槛来的人并不找他，也没有人问起他。他们看到只有德伐日太太坐在柜台边主管打酒，也并不惊讶。德伐日太太面前有一只碗，碗里装着变了形的小硬币，硬币磨窳了，变形了，跟新铸出来时已经大不相同。而那群从破衣兜里把硬币掏出来的人也一样，跟他们的天生形象已经相去极远。

密探上上下下四处调查，从国王的宫殿直到罪犯的监狱。他们在这家酒馆里看到的也许是一种普遍的有所渴求而未得手的心不在焉的神气。玩纸牌的玩得没精打采；玩骨牌的若有所思地拿牌搭着高塔；喝酒的拿洒出的酒在桌上乱画；德伐日太太拿牙签在他编织的袖子上挑着什么图案，却能看见和听见远处看不见和听不见的东西。

圣安托万就像这样一杯半盏地直喝到中午。正午时分两个风尘仆仆的人在晃动的街灯下经过了它的街道。一个是德伐日先生，另一个是戴着蓝帽的补路工。两人满身灰尘走进酒店，十分口渴。他们的出现在圣安托万胸中燃起了火焰。这火焰随着两人的行踪蔓延，激动了大多数窗户和门洞后的面孔，让它们爆发出火星，燃烧起火苗。但没有人跟着他们走，他俩进入酒店时也没有人说话，虽然每张脸都转向了他们。

“日安，先生们！”德伐日先生说。

这声招呼可能是一种舌头解禁的信号，引起了一片合唱“日安！”作为回答。

“天气不好呀，先生们，”德伐日摇着头说。

这一来，大家都面面相觑，然后低下目光一言不发地坐着。只有一个人站了起来，走了出去。

“老婆，”德伐日先生对德伐日太太说，“我跟这位好补路工走了好几十里，他叫雅克。我在巴黎城外一天半的路程处偶然遇到了他。这个补路工是个好伙伴，叫雅克。给他酒喝，老婆！”

第二个人站起身来走了出去。德伐日太太把酒放到叫雅克的补路工面前，那人脱下蓝帽对大家敬了个礼，然后喝酒。在他的短衫胸前他带了一个粗糙的黑面包，便坐在德伐日太太的柜台前不时地咬一口嚼着，喝着酒。第三个人又站起身来走了出去。

德伐日喝了点酒，润了润喉咙，但比客人喝得少，因为酒对他并不希罕。他喝完就站在那儿等那乡下人吃早饭。他不看任何人，任何人也不后弥；甚至德伐日太太也不看他。现在她又拿起毛线活儿打了起来。

“点心吃完了么，朋友？”到了时候他问道。

“吃完了，谢谢。”

“那就来吧！我带你到我刚才告诉你打算给你住的房间去。这房间对你最合适不过。”

两人出了酒店，进了街道，出了街道，进了院子，出了院子，上了一道陡直的楼梯，出了楼梯，进了一个阁楼——以前有一个白发的老头曾坐在这间阁楼的凳于上，佝偻着身子忙着做鞋。

现在这儿没有了那白发老人，但那分别走出酒店的三个人却在这儿。他们和远处那白发老头之间有过一点小小的瓜葛：曾从墙缝里窥视过他。

德伐日仔细关好门，压低了嗓子说：

“雅克一号，雅克二号，雅克三号！他就是雅克五号，是指定由我雅克四号约来跟你们会面的。情况由他谈。说吧，雅克五号。”

补路工脱下蓝帽子行了个礼，又用它擦了擦黝黑的前额说，“从什么地方说起呢，先生？”

“从开头说起，”德伐日的回答不无道理。

“先生们，一年以前，也是在这样的夏天里，”补路工开始了，“我在侯爵的马车下面见到了那人，吊在链条上。你们就看看那种情况吧。太阳快睡觉了，我正要下班，侯爵的马车慢馒地上了坡。那人挂在链条上——像这样。”

补路工又作了一次无懈可击的表演。他早该表演得十全十美了，因为他在村里表演这个节目已有一年，回回叫座，已成了不可缺少的娱乐节目。

雅克一号插嘴问他以前是否见过那人？

“没有，”补路工恢复了直立姿势回答。

雅克三号问他后来是怎么认出那人的。

“因为他那高个儿，”补路工一个指头放在鼻子面前细声地说。“那天黄昏时侯爵大人对我说，‘告诉我，他是什么样子？’我回答，高得像个妖怪。’”

“你应该说‘矮得像个侏儒’的。”雅克二号插嘴。

“那我怎么知道。那时人还没杀，他又没叮嘱过我。请注意！在那种情况之下我也没有主动作证。侯爵大人站在我们那小小的泉水边说，‘给我把那流氓带来！’他用手指头表示是我！说真的，几位先生，我没有主动要干什么。”

“他这话确是真的，雅克，”德伐日对插嘴的人说。“说下去！”

“好的！”修路工神秘地说，“那高个儿不见了，到处抓他——有几个月？九个、十个、十一个月吧？”

“究竟几个月没关系，”德伐日说，“总之，他躲得很隐蔽，可最终还是倒了霉，给抓住了。说下去！”

“我又是在山坡上干活，太阳又是快要睡觉了。我正收拾好工具打算下坡回村往家里去，村子已经黑了。这时我抬起头来，看见六个士兵从山坡那边走了过来。他们中间有一个高个儿，两只手臂给捆住了——捆在身子两边—一像这样！”

他利用那顶少不了的帽子表现一个人两条手臂被紧紧捆在腰胁上、绳结打在背后的样子。

“我站在路边我的石头堆旁，先生们，看着几个士兵和囚犯过去（那路很荒凉，任何不常见的东西都值得看一看），他们刚走过来时，我只看到六个士兵押了一个捆绑着的囚犯，从我的方向看去几乎全是黑的，只是在太阳睡觉的方向镶有一道红色的边。我还看到他们很长很长的影子落到路那边凹下的山脊和隆起的山坡上，像是些巨人的影子。我还看到他们满身灰尘叭嗒叭嗒地走着，灰尘也跟着他们乱飘！在他们靠我很近的时候，我认出了可高个儿，他也认出了我。啊，他若能跟那天黄昏我第一次见他时那样再从山崖边跳下去准会很高兴的，那地方在附近!”

他描述起来好像自己此刻就在山坡上，而且还活灵活现地看到了那场面。看来他这一辈子见过的场面不多。

“我并没有让当兵的看出我认得那高个儿，他也没让他们看出他认得我。我俩只递了个眼色便都明白了。‘走吧！’大兵头头指着村子，‘赶快送他进坟墓去！’说时走得更快了。我跟在他们身后。因为捆得太紧，他的两条胳膊都肿了。他的木鞋又大又笨重，脚也瘸了。跛着脚走得慢，他们便用枪赶他—一像这祥！”

他模仿一个人挨着枪托往前走的样子。

“他们像疯子赛跑一样往坡下冲，他摔倒了。当兵的哈哈大笑，把他拽了起来。他脸上流着血，一脸泥土，却不能擦；他们一见，又大笑起来。他们把他押进了村子，满村的人都来看。他们押着他经过风车，爬上坡，来到了监狱。全村人都看到监狱在漆黑的夜里开了大门，把他吞了下去——就像这样！”

他使劲张大了嘴，猛地一下闭上，牙齿嗒地一响。德伐日注意到他不愿意再张开嘴破坏效果，便说，“说下去，雅克。”

“村子里的人，”补路工踮起脚压低嗓门说下去，“全都回去了，都在泉水边悄悄地说话，都睡了，都梦见了那个不幸的人锁在悬崖顶上监牢的铁栏杆里，除非上刑场，再也别想出来。早上我扛起工具，吃着黑面包去上工。我绕道去了一趟监狱，在那儿见到了他。他被关在一个很高的铁笼子里，跟昨天晚上一样满是血迹和沙土。他在往外看。他的手不自由，不能向我招手，只能像个死人一样望着我；我也不敢叫他。”

德伐日和三个人彼此阴沉地瞥了一眼。听着那乡下人的故事，他们脸色都很严厉、压抑、仇恨，样子尽管秘密，却也权威，有一种肃杀的法庭气氛。雅克一号和二号坐在铺了草荐的旧床上，下巴放在手上，眼睛盯着补路工。雅克三号在他们身后跪下了一条腿，神情也很专注，一只激动的手老在口鼻间的微细神经网络处抓挠。德伐日站在他们跟那报信人之间——他让报信人站在从窗户照进来的光线里。补路工的目光不断地从他转到他们，又从他们转到他身。

“说下去，雅克，”德伐日说。

“他在那个高高的笼子里关了几天。村里的人都害怕，虽只敢偷偷地望他一望，却总要在远处抬头看悬崖上的监狱。到了黄昏，一天工作完毕，大家到泉水边闲聊，所有的脸又都转向监狱——以前他们都转向驿站，现在却转向监狱。他们在泉水边悄悄议论，说是他虽被判了死刑，却未必会执行。据说有几份请愿书已送到了巴黎，说他是因为孩子给压死了太生气发了疯。又说是有一份请愿书还送到了国王手里。这我怎么能知道呢，不过那也是可能的，也许可能，也许未必。”

“那你就听着，雅克，”雅克一号严厉地插嘴，“要知道已经有请愿书送给了国王和王后。除你之外，我们在场的几个人都看到国王接过了请愿书。那是在街上的马车里，他坐在王后身边。是你在这儿见到的德伐日冒着生命危险拿着请愿书跳到了马匹前面的。”

“还有，雅克，”跪着一只脚的三号说，他的手指总是在那神经敏感的部分抓挠，那神气很贪婪，似乎渴望得到什么既不是食物、也不是饮料的东西，“骑兵和步兵卫士把他包围起来，打他，你听见没有？”

“听见了，先生们。”

“你再说下去，”德伐日说。

“还有。他们在泉水边悄悄议论过另一件事，”那乡下人又讲了下去，“据说他被押到我们乡下来是要在这儿处死的，而且必死无疑。他们甚至悄悄说，因为他杀死了大人，而大人又是佃户们—一可算是农奴吧——的父亲，因此他要被当作杀父的逆子处死。泉水边有个老头儿说他是右手用刀的，所以要把他的右手当着他的面烧掉，再在他手臂、胸口、两腿划出许多口子，把烧开的油、熔化的铅、滚烫的松香、蜡和硫磺灌进去，然后用四匹强壮的马拴在手脚上把身子撕成几块。那老头儿说有个想谋杀前国王路易十五的囚犯就确确实实是让用这种方法处死的。不过他究竟是否说的是真话，我怎么会知道？我又没上过学．”

“那就再听着，雅克，”那抓挠个不停的带着渴望神情的人说，“那人姓达米安，是大白天在巴黎城的大街上公开处死的。后行刑的人非常多，最引人注目的倒是那些打扮入时的高贵的夫人小姐们。她们也非常感兴趣，一定要看到最后——最后，雅克，一直看到天黑，那时他已被扯断了两条腿和一条胳膊，却还在呼吸！然后才杀死了他——你多大年龄？”

“三十五，补路工说。他看上去倒有六十。

“那是你十来岁时的事，你是有可能看到的。”

“够了，”德伐日说，因为不耐烦，显得严厉。“魔鬼万岁！说下去。”

“啊！有人悄悄说这，有人悄悄说那，却离不开这个题目，就连泉水也似乎放低了声音。最后，到星期天晚上，全村人都睡着了，来了一群当兵的，从监狱绕下山来，他们的抢碰着小街的石头咔咔地响。工人挖地，工人钉钉，当兵的又笑又唱。到了早上，泉水边竖起了一个四十英尺高的绞架，把泉水都变得有毒了。”

补路工抬头望着——不，是望穿了——低矮的天花板，用手指着，好像看见绞架竖立在
天空。

“所有的工作都停了下来，所有的人都集合了起来，没有人牵牛出去，牛跟人在一起。正午响起了鼓声。当兵的早在半夜就进了监狱，把他包围了。他跟以前一样捆着，嘴里还塞了根木棍，用绳扎紧，远远看去好像在笑。”他用两根拇指把嘴角往耳朵两边掰，拉出一脸绉纹。“绞架顶上捆着他那把刀，刀口向上，刀尖在空中。他被绞死在那个四十英尺高的绞如上，然后一直吊在那儿，毒害了泉水。”

他用蓝帽于擦擦脸，因为回忆起那场面，脸上又冒出了汗珠。大家彼此望了望。

“太可怕了，先生们。在那样的阴影之下妇女和儿童怎么敢来汲水呢？晚上谁还能在那儿聊天呢！在绞架底下，我说过么？星期一的黄昏，太阳要睡觉时，我离开了村子。我在山上回头看了看，那影子斜挂在教堂上，斜挂在风车上，斜挂在监狱上——似乎斜挂在整个大地上，先生们，一直到与天空相接的地方！”

那带着渴望神情的人啃着一权手指望着其他的人，由于渴望得难受，他的手指在发抖。

“就是这样，先生们。我按通知在太阳落山时离开村子往前走，走了一个通宵和第二天半天，才遇到了这位同志（按通知他会跟我接头），便跟他一起来了。我们有时骑马，有时走路，走完昨天，还走了个通宵，现在才到了你们这儿。”

一阵悲伤的沉默之后，雅克一号说，“好的，你讲得很真实，表演得也很好。你能在门外等我们一会儿么？”

“很乐意，”补路工说。德伐日陪他来到楼梯口，让他坐下，自己再进了阁楼。

他回屋时那三个人已经站了起来，三颗头攒在了一起。

“你们怎么说，雅克们？”一号问。“记录在案么？”

“记录在案。判决彻底消灭，”德伐日回答。

“妙极了！”那带着渴望神情的人低沉地说。

“庄园和全家？”一号问。

“庄园和全家，”德伐日回答。“彻底消灭。”

带着渴望神情的人发出低沉的狂欢声，“妙极了！”他又啃起另一根指头来。

“你有把握我们这种记录方式不会出问题么？”雅克二号问德伐日。“无疑它是安全的，因为除了我们自己谁也破译不出。但是我们自己准能破译么？——或者我应当说，她总能破译么？”

“雅克，”德伐日站直身子回答，“既然是我老婆接受了任务，愿意一个人把记录保持在她的记忆里，她是一个字也不会忘记的——一个音节也不会忘记的。用她自己的针法和记号编织起来的东西，在她看来简直跟太阳一样清楚。相信德伐日太太吧。若想从德伐日太太织成的记录上抹去一个名字或罪恶，那怕是一个字母，也比最胆小的懦夫抹掉自己的生命还难呢！”

一阵喁喁的低语，表示了信任与赞许。那带着渴望神情的人问道，“这个乡下人要马上打发回去吧？我希望这样。他太单纯，会不会弄出什么危险？”

“他什么都不知道，”德伐日说，“他知道的东西不至于那么容易就把他送上同样高的绞架去的。我愿负责做他的工作。让他跟我在一起吧，由我来照顾他，打发他回去。他想看看这个花花世界——看看国王、王后和王官。让他星期天去看看吧！”

“什么？”那带着渴望神情的人瞪大了眼睛叫道，“他想看国王的豪华和贵族的气派，这难道是好迹象么？”

“雅克，”德伐日说，“你若要让猫喜欢喝牛奶，明智的办法是让它看见牛奶；若要想狗在某一天去捕杀猎物，明智的办法是让它看到它天然的捕猎对象。”

再没有谈别的话，他们找到补路工时，他已在楼梯口打着吨儿。他们劝他躺到草荐床上去休息。他不用劝说立即躺下睡着了。

像他那么穷的外省汉子在巴黎能找到的住处，一般都比不上德伐日酒店那小屋。因此若不是他心里对老板娘总存在着一种神秘的畏俱的话，他的日子应算是很新奇，也很有趣的。好在那老板娘整天坐在柜台边，仿佛故意不把他放在心上，特别下了决心，无论他在那儿跟什么事情发生了表面以外的关系，她都一律假装视而不见。这就使他每次见到她都害怕得发抖，因为他想来想去总觉得自己不可能知道她下一步打算假装什么。万一她那打扮得漂漂亮亮的脑袋忽然打算假装看见他杀了人，而且剥了那人的皮的话，她准定会一口咬定他不放，一直跟他玩到底的。

因此，等到星期日到来，他听说老板娘要陪德伐日先生和他去凡尔赛宫时，他并不感到有多快活（虽然口头也表示高兴）。更叫他紧张的是他们坐在公共马车里时，那老板娘还在织着毛线。尤其叫他紧张的是到了下午人群已在等着看国王和王后的车驾了，她还在人群中织着。

“你可真勤快呀，太太！”她身边一个人说。

“是的，”德伐日太太回答，“我的活儿很多呢。”

“你织的是什么，太太？”

“很多东西。”

“比如说——”

“比如说，”德伐日太太平静地回答，“裹尸布。”

那人尽快往旁边挪，挪得远远的。补路工用他的蓝帽子扇凉，他感到非常拥挤，非常气闷。若是他需要国王和王后让他清醒清醒，他倒也幸运，因为那清醒剂已经临近。那大脸盘的国王和面目姣好的王后已坐着黄金的马车来了。前导的有宫廷的牛眼明灯，一大群服饰鲜明、欢声笑语的妇女和漂亮的老爷。他们珠光宝气，穿绸着缎，傅粉涂脂，一片煊赫的声势和傲慢的气派，露出一张张又漂亮又轻蔑的男男女女的脸儿。补路工沐浴在这盛大的场面之中，一时十分激动，不禁大叫“国王万岁！”“王后万岁！”“大家万岁！”“一切万岁！”仿佛他那时从来没听说过无所不在的雅克党似的。然后便是花园、庭院、台阶、喷泉、绿色的草坡，又是国王与王后，更多的宫廷精华，更多的达宫显贵、仕女名媛，更多的万岁！他终于感情冲动得无以复加，哭了起来。在这长达三个小时的盛大场面之中，他跟许多感情充沛的人一起呼叫着，哭喊着。德伐日在整个过程中都揪住他的衣领，仿佛怕他会对他短暂的崇拜对象冲出去，把他们撕得粉碎。

“好！”游行结束后，德伐日拍拍他的背，像他的恩主一样说，“你真是个乖娃娃！”

补路工此时才清醒过来，很担心他刚才的表现是犯了错误。好在并不如此。

“我们正需要你这样的人，”德伐日对着他耳朵说，“你让这些傻瓜们以为这种局面可以天长地久，于是他们就更加骄横，也就垮得更早。”

“着！”补路工想了想，叫了起来，“说得对。”

“这些傻瓜们什么都不知道。他们不把你们的声音放在耳里；为了他们的狗或马，他们可以永远永远堵住成百个像你这样的人的喉咙。另一方面，他们又只知道你们说给他们听的话。就让他们再受受骗好了，这种人怎么骗他都不算过分。”

德伐日太太轻蔑地望了望客人，点头同意。

“至于你嘛，”她说，“你对什么事都要大喊大叫，都要流眼泪，只要引人注目吵得热闹就行。你肯不肯干，说呀！”

“干呀，太太，我干。目前就干这个。”

“如果你面前有一大堆布娃娃，有人鼓动你去剥掉它们的衣服给自己用，你会选择那最高贵最漂亮的剥，是吧？说呀！”

“是的，太太。”

“若是在你面前有一大群已经不能飞的鸟儿，有人鼓动你去拔掉它们的羽毛装饰自己，你会拣羽毛最漂亮的拔，是么？”

“是的，太太。”

“今天你已经看到了布娃娃，也看到了鸟儿，”德伐日太太向他们刚才去过的地方挥了挥手，“现在，回家去吧！”