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,
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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
court-yard? Another carriage having already gone from here
today, 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
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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 floppin’, 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’ floppin’ has
undergone a change, and that wot I only hope with all my heart as
Mrs. Cruncher may be a-floppin’ 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!”
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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.”
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“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 i n 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?”
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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
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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!”
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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 on 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.”
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“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 court-yard,
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’ll 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.
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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, and 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,
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