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"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 and 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.