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Pagina 513 de 896

Autor: Charles Dickens

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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.

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