双城记 查尔斯·狄更斯-第28部分

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‘Which　I　entreated　you　to　believe；　again　and　again；　most　fervently；　with　all　my　heart；　was　capable　of　better　things；　Mr。　Carton！'
‘Entreat　me　to　believe　it　no　more；　Miss　Manette。　I　have　proved　myself；　and　I　know　better。　I　distress　you；　I　draw　fast　to　an　end。　Will　you　let　me　believe；　when　I　recall　this　day；　that　the　last　confidence　of　my　life　was　reposed　in　your　pure　and　innocent　breast；　and　that　it　lies　there　alone；　and　will　be　shared　by　no　one？'
‘If　that　will　be　a　consolation　to　you；　yes。'
‘Not　even　by　the　dearest　one　ever　to　be　known　to　you？'　
‘Mr。　Carton；'　she　answered；　after　an　agitated　pause；　‘the　secret　is　yours；　not　mine；　and　I　promise　to　respect　it。'
‘Thank　you。　And　again；　God　bless　you。'
He　put　her　hand　to　his　lips；　and　moved　towards　the　door。　‘Be　under　no　apprehension；　Miss　Manette；　of　my　ever　resuming　this　conversation　by　so　much　as　a　passing　word。　I　will　never　refer　to　it　again。　If　I　were　dead；　that　could　not　be　surer　than　it　is　henceforth。　In　the　hour　of　my　death；　I　shall　hold　sacred　the　one　good　remembrance……and　shall　thank　and　bless　you　for　it……that　my　last　avowal　of　myself　was　made　to　you；　and　that　my　name；　and　faults；　and　miseries　were　gently　carried　in　your　heart。　May　it　otherwise　be　light　and　happy！'
He　was　so　unlike　what　he　had　ever　shown　himself　to　be；　and　it　was　so　sad　to　think　how　much　he　had　thrown　away；　and　how　much　he　every　day　kept　down　and　perverted；　that　Lucie　Manette　wept　mournfully　for　him　as　he　stood　looking　back　at　her。
‘Be　forted！'　he　said；　‘I　am　not　worth　such　feeling；　Miss　Manette。　An　hour　or　two　hence；　and　the　low　panions　and　low　habits　that　I　scorn　but　yield　to；　will　render　me　less　worth　such　tears　as　those；　than　any　wretch　who　creeps　along　the　streets。　Be　forted　But；　within　myself；　I　shall　always　be；　towards　you；　what　I　am　now；　though　outwardly　I　shall　be　what　you　have　heretofore　seen　me。　The　last　supplication　but　one　I　make　to　you；　is；　that　you　will　believe　this　of　me。'
‘I　will；　Mr。　Carton。'
‘My　last　supplication　of　all；　is　this；　and　with　it；　I　will　relieve　you　of　a　visitor　with　whom　I　well　know　you　have　nothing　in　unison；　and　between　whom　and　you　there　is　an　impassable　space。　It　is　useless　to　say　it；　I　know；　but　it　rises　out　of　my　soul。　For　you；　and　for　any　dear　to　you；　I　would　do　anything。　If　my　career　were　of　that　better　kind　that　there　was　any　opportunity　or　capacity　of　sacrifice　in　it；　I　would　embrace　any　sacrifice　for　you　and　for　those　dear　to　you。　Try　to　hold　me　in　your　mind；　at　some　quiet　times；　as　ardent　and　sincere　in　this　one　thing。　The　time　will　e；　the　time　will　not　be　long　in　ing；　when　new　ties　will　be　formed　about　you……ties　that　will　bind　you　yet　more　tenderly　and　strongly　to　the　home　you　so　adorn……the　dearest　ties　that　will　ever　grace　and　gladden　you。　O　Miss　Manette；　when　the　little　picture　of　a　happy　father's　face　looks　up　in　yours；　when　you　see　your　own　bright　beauty　springing　up　anew　at　your　feet；　think　now　and　then　that　there　is　a　man　who　would　give　his　life；　to　keep　a　life　you　love　beside　you！'　He　said；　‘Farewell！'　said　a　last　‘God　bless　you！'　and　left　her。　
CHAPTER　XIV
The　Honest　Tradesman
TO　the　eyes　of　Mr。　Jeremiah　Cruncher；　sitting　on　his　stool　in　Fleet　Street　with　his　grisly　urchin　beside　him；　a　vast　number　and　variety　of　objects　in　movement　were　every　day　presented。　Who　could　sit　upon　anything　in　Fleet　Street　during　the　busy　hours　of　the　day；　and　not　be　dazed　and　deafened　by　two　immense　processions；　one　ever　tending　westward　with　the　sun；　the　other　ever　tending　eastward　from　the　sun；　both　ever　tending　to　the　plains　beyond　the　range　of　red　and　purple　where　the　sun　goes　down！
With　his　straw　in　his　mouth；　Mr。　Cruncher　sat　watching　the　two　streams；　like　the　heathen　rustic　who　has　for　several　centuries　been　on　duty　watching　one　stream……saving　that　Jerry　had　no　expectation　of　their　ever　running　dry。　Nor　would　it　have　been　an　expectation　of　a　hopeful　kind；　since　Ball　part　of　his　ine　was　derived　from　the　pilotage　of　timid　women　（mostly　of　a　full　habit　and　past　the　middle　of　life）　from　Tellson's　side　of　the　tides　to　the　opposite　ore。　Brief　as　such　panionship　was　in　every　separate　instance；　Mr。　Cruncher　never　failed　to　bee　so　interested　the　lady　as　to　express　a　strong　desire　to　have　the　honour　drinking　her　very　good　health。　And　it　was　from　the　gifts　towed　upon　him　towards　the　execution　of　this　benevolent　purpose；　that　he　recruited　his　finances；　as　just　now　observed。
Time　was；　when　a　poet　sat　upon　a　stool　in　a　public　place；　and　mused　in　the　sight　of　men。　Mr。　Cruncher；　sitting　on　stool　in　a　public　place；　but　not　being　a　poet；　mused　as　little　as　possible；　and　looked　about　him。
It　fell　out　that　he　was　thus　engaged　in　a　season　when　crowds　were　few；　and　belated　women　few；　and　when　his　affairs　in　general　were　so　unprosperous　as　to　awaken　a　strong　suspicion　in　his　breast　that　Mrs。　Cruncher　must　have　been　‘flopping'　in　some　pointed　manner；　when　an　unusual　concourse　pouring　down　Fleet　Street　westward；　attracted　his　attention。　Looking　that　way；　Mr。　Cruncher　made　out　that　me　kind　of　funeral　was　ing　along；　and　that　there　was　popular　objection　to　this　funeral；　which　engendered　uproar。
‘Young　Jerry；'　said　Mr。　Cruncher；　turning　to　his　offspring；　‘it's　a　buryin'。'
‘Hooroar；　father！'　cried　Young　Jerry。
The　young　gentleman　uttered　this　exultant　sound　with　mysterious　significance。　The　elder　gentleman　took　the　cry　so　ill；　that　he　watched　his　opportunity；　and　smote　the　young　gentleman　on　the　ear。
‘What　d'ye　mean？　What　are　you　hooroaring　at？　What　do　you　want　to　conwey　to　your　own　father；　you　young　Rip？　This　boy　is　a　getting　too　many　for　me！'　said　Mr。　Cruncher；　surveying　him。　‘Him　and　his　hooroars。　Don't　let　me　hear　no　more　of　you；　or　you　shall　feel　some　more　of　me。　D'ye　hear？'
‘I　warn't　doing　no　harm；'　Young　Jerry　protested；　rubbing　his　cheek。
‘Drop　it　then；'　said　Mr。　Cruncher；　‘I　won't　have　none　of　your　no　harms。　Get　atop　of　that　there　seat；　and　look　at　the　crowd。'
His　son　obeyed；　and　the　crowd　approached；　they　were　bawling　and　hissing　round　a　dingy　hearse　and　dingy　mourning　coach；　in　which　mourning　coach　there　was　only　one　mourner；　dressed　in　the　dingy　trappings　that　were　considered　essential　to　the　dignity　of　the　position。　The　position　appeared　by　no　means　to　please　him；　however；　with　an　increasing　rabble　surrounding　the　coach；　deriding　him；　making　grimaces　at　him；　and　incessantly　groaning　and　calling　out：　‘Yah！　Spies！　Tst！　Yaha！　Spies！'　with　many　pliments　too　numerous　and　forcible　to　repeat。
Funerals　had　at　all　times　a　remarkable　attraction　for　Mr。　Cruncher；　he　always　pricked　up　his　senses；　and　became　excited；　when　a　funeral　passed　Tellson's。　Naturally；　therefore；　a　funeral　with　this　unmon　attendance　excited　him　greatly；　and　he　asked　of　the　first　man　who　ran　against　him：
‘What　is　it；　brother？　What's　it　about？'
‘I　don't　know；'　said　the　man。　‘Spies！　Yaha！　Tst！　Spies！'　
He　asked　another　man。　‘Who　is　it？'
‘I　don't　know；'　returned　the　man；　clapping　his　hands　to　his　mouth　nevertheless；　and　vociferating　in　a　surprising　heat　and　with　the　greatest　ardour；　‘Spies！　Yaha！　Tst；　tst！　Spi…ies！'
At　length；　a　person　better　informed　on　the　merits　of　the　case；　tumbled　against　him；　and　from　this　person　he　learned　that　the　funeral　was　the　funeral　of　One　Roger　Cly。
‘Was　He　a　spy？'　asked　Mr。　Cruncher。
‘Old　Bailey　spy；'　returned　his　informant。　‘Yaha　Tst！　Yah！　Old　Bailey　Spi…i…ies！'
‘Why；　to　be　sure！'　exclaimed　Jerry；　recalling　the　Trial　at　which　he　had　assisted。　‘I've　seen　him。　Dead；　is　he？'
‘Dead　as　mutton；'　returned　the　other；　‘and　can't　be　too　dead。　Have　‘em　out；　there　Spies！　Pull　‘em　out；　there！　Spies！'
The　idea　was　so　acceptable　in　the　prevalent　absence　of　any　idea；　that　the　crowd　caught　it　up　with　eagerness；　and；　loudly　repeating　the　suggestion　to　have　‘em　out；　and　to　pull　em　out；　mobbed　the　two　vehicles　so　closely　that　they　came　to　a　stop。　On　the　crowd's　opening　the　coach　doors；　the　one　mourner　scuffled　out　of　himself　and　was　in　their　hands　for　a　moment；　but　he　was　so　alert；　and　made　such　good　use　of　his　time；　that　in　another　moment　he　was　scouring　away　up　a　bystreet；　after　shedding　his　cloak；　hat；　long　hatband；　white　pocket　handkerchief；　and　other　symbolical　tears。
These；　the　people　tore　to　pieces　and　scattered　far　and　wide　with　great　enjoyment；　while　the　tradesmen　hurriedly　shut　up　their　shops；　for　a　crowd　in　those　times　stopped　at　nothing；　and　was　a　monster　much　dreaded。　They　had　already　got　the　length　of　opening　the　hearse　to　take　the　coffin　out；　when　some　brighter　genius　proposed　instead；　its　being　escorted　to　destination　amidst　general　rejoicing。　Practical　suggestions　being　much　needed；　this　suggestion；　too；　was　received　with　acclamation；　and　the　coach　was　immediately　filled　with　eight　inside　and　a　dozen　out；　while　as　many　people　got　on　the　roof　of　the　hearse　as　could　by　any　exercise　of　ingenuity　stick　upon　it。　Among　the　first　of　these　volunteers　was　Jerry　Cruncher　himself；　who　modestly　concealed　his　spiky　head　from　the　observation　of　Tellson's；　in　the　further　corner　of　the　mourning　coach。
The　officiating　undertakers　made　some　protest　against　these　changes　in　the　ceremonies；　but；　the　river　being　alarmingly　near；　and　several　voices　remarking　on　the　efficacy　of　cold　immersion　in　bringing　refractory　members　of　the　profession　to　reason；　the　protest　was　faint　and　brief。　The　remodelled　procession　started；　with　a　chimney…sweep　driving　the　hearse……advised　by　the　regular　driver；　who　was　perched　beside　him；　under　close　inspection；　for　the　purpose……and　with　a　pieman；　also　attended　by　his　cabinet　minister；　driving　the　mourning　coach。　A　bear…leader；　a　popular　street　character　of　the　time；　was　impressed　as　an　additional　ornament；　before　the　cavalcade　had　gone　far　down　the　Strand；　and　his　bear；　who　was　black　and　very　mangy；　gave　quite　an　Undertaking　air　to　that　part　of　the　procession　in　which　he　walked。
Thus；　with　beer…drinking；　pipe…smoking；　song…roaring；　and　infinite　caricaturing　of　woe；　the　disorderly　procession　went　its　way；　recruiting　at　every　step；　and　all　the　shops　shutting　up　before　it。　Its　destination　was　the　old　church　of　Saint　Pancras；　far　off　in　the　fields。　It　got　there　in　course　of　time；　insisted　on　pouring　into　the　burial…ground；　finally；　acplished　the　interment　of　the　deceased　Roger　Cly　in　its　own　way；　and　highly　to　its　own　satisfaction。
The　dead　man　disposed　of；　and　the　crowd　being　under　the　necessity　of　providing　some　other　entertainment　for　itself；　another　brighter　genius　（or　perhaps　the　same）　conceived　the　humour　of　impeaching　casual　passersby；　as　Old　Bailey　spies；　and　wreaking　vengeance　on　them。　Chase　was　given　to　some　scores　of　inoffensive　persons　who　had　never　been　near　the　Old　Bailey　in　their　lives；　in　the　realisation　of　this　fancy；　and　they　were　roughly　hustled　and　maltreated。　The　transition　to　the　sport　of　window…breaking；　and　thence　to　the　plundering　of　public…houses；　was　easy　and　natural。　At　last；　after　several　hours；　when　sundry　summerhouses　had　been　pulled　dow　and　some　area…railings　had　been　torn　up；　to　arm　the　more　belligerent　spirits；　a　rumour　got　about　that　the　Guards　we　ing。　Before　this　rumour；　the　crowd　gradually　melted　away；　and　perhaps　the　Guards　came；　and　perhaps　they　never　came；　and　this　was　the　usual　progress　of　a　mob。
Mr。　Cruncher　did　not　assist　at　the　closing　sports；　hut　had　remained　behind　in　the　churchyard；　to　confer　and　condole　with　the　undertakers。　The