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双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第章

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ditions 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 licence 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 placency 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。 Honoré; 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 ing…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 Evrémonde?' says a man behind him。 ‘That。 At the back there。' ‘With his hand in the girl's?' ‘Yes。'
The man cries; ‘Down; Evrémonde To the Guillotine all aristocrats! Down; Evrémonde!'
‘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; Evrémonde!' the face of Evrémonde is for a moment turned towards him。 Evrémonde 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 e 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 foremost chairs; stands The Vengeance; looking about for her friend。
‘Thérèse!' she cries; in her shrill tones。 ‘Who has seen her? Thérèse Defarge!'
‘She never missed before;' says a knitting…woman of the sisterhood。
‘No; nor will site miss now;' cries The Vengeance; petulantly。 ‘Thérèse!'
‘Louder;' the woman remends。
Ay! Louder; Vengeance; much louder; and still site 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 Evrémonde 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 es up。 Crash……And the knitting…women; never faltering or pausing in their work; count Two。
The supposed Evrémonde 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 
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