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双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第章

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en had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them; and upon the grown faces; and ploughed into every furrow of age and ing up afresh; was the sign; 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 atomies 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 pressed 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 e; 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 e 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 er shop; better than most other' 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'' 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 pletely 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 joke 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 re…crossed the road and entered the wine…shop。
This wine…shop keeper was a bull…necked'; martial…looking man of thirty; and he should have bean 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 posure 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 o
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