Section 21

"Very good! " said Defarge when it was over. "You're a good boy! "
The road worker was, at this time, starting to think that he had acted in a way that would make the Jacks angry; but this word from Mr. Defarge encouraged him.
"You are the man we want," said Defarge in his ear. "You make these stupid people believe they will be loved forever; and when they do, then they act even more selfishly, not knowing that this is the very thing that will bring them to their end."
"Hey!" cried the road worker, thinking about what Defarge had said. "That's true."
"These stupid people know nothing. While they hate you and would kill you and a hundred like you before they would lose even one of their horses or dogs, they only know what your voice tells them. Let it trick them a little longer. It cannot trick them too much."
Madam Defarge looked without feeling or interest at the man and moved her head to show she agreed.
"As for you," she said, "you would shout and cry for anything if it made a show and a noise, would you not?"
"To be honest, Madam, I think so. At least for now."
"If you were given a big pile of dolls and you were to tear them to pieces for what you could get from them, you would take the ones that were the richest, and the ones with the most beautiful clothes. Tell us! Wouldn't you do that?"
"Yes, truly, Madam."
"Yes, and if you were given many different birds, and you were to tear them to pieces, for what you could get from them, you would take the ones with the most beautiful feathers first, would you not?"
"It's true, Madam."
"You have seen both dolls and birds today," said Madam Defarge with a wave of her hand toward the place where they had earlier been watching the King and Queen. "Now, go home!"
16. Still Knitting
Madam Defarge and her husband returned happily to the heart of Saint Antoine, while one man on his own, and wearing a blue hat, walked through the night and through the dust over the many tiring miles toward that point where the castle of Sir the Marquis, now dead and buried, listened to the whispering trees. The stone faces of the castle now had so much time to listen to the trees and to the fountain, that the few thin people from the village who, in looking for weeds to eat or dry sticks to burn, came close enough to see the big open yard and the wide stone steps at the front of the castle, left knowing full well that the stone faces had changed in an important way. The saying in the village — a weak saying like that of the people who lived there — was that when the knife went into Sir the Marquis, the faces changed from being proud to being angry and hurt. It went on to say that when that man was hanged from forty feet above the fountain, the look on the statues changed to show cruel happiness at what had happened to him; and they would stay that way forever. In the stone face over the great window of the bedroom where the killing took place, there were found two little concave marks on each side of the nose (like Sir the Marquis had), which nobody could remember it having before. And at those times when two or three of the poor village people left the crowd to go and look at the stone statue of Sir the Marquis, a thin finger would not have pointed to it for a minute before they all ran into the forest in fear, like the lucky rabbits who were able to live there.
Castle and poor little house, stone face and hanging body, red blood on the stone floor and clean water in the village fountain... that whole part of the country — or, if you like, all of France itself — was only as big as a hair, from side to side, in the light of the night sky. That is how the whole world is, with all of its best and worst, when measured by the size of just one star. And just as scientists can take a piece of light and break it down into the different colours in it, so some other greater Mind may be able to read in the little light coming from this earth of ours, every thought and act, every good spirit and bad spirit, for every person living on it.
The Defarges, husband and wife, moved slowly, under the light of the stars, in that coach they had paid to ride in, toward the gate of Paris. There was the same old stop
at the guard house, where a soldier would hold a lantern up to see them and ask them questions. Mr. Defarge stepped out, knowing one or two of the soldiers there, and one of the police. The policeman he knew very well, and he hugged him warmly.
When Saint Antoine had again folded his dark wings around the Defarges, and they, having left the coach at a stop near the border of Saint Antoine, were picking their way on foot through the black mud and rubbish of his streets, Madam Defarge spoke to her husband:
"Tell me, my friend, what did Jack the policeman tell you?"
"Very little tonight, but all that he knows. There is a new secret policeman working in our part of town who is trying to find information for the government. There may be others, but there is at least one."
"Oh well!" said Madam Defarge, lifting her eyebrows with a cool business air, "We will need to add him to the list. How do you say his name?"
"He is English."
"So much the better. His name?"
"Barsad," said Defarge, making it sound French by the way he said it. And then he gave her the letters for it.
"Barsaid," repeated Madam. "Good. And his Christian name?" "John."
"John Barsad," repeated Madam, after saying it softly to herself first. "Good. And do you know what he looks like?"
"Age, about forty; about five feet nine; black hair; dark skin for a white man; on the whole good-looking; dark eyes; thin, long face; nose like that of an eagle, but not straight, having a strange bend toward his left cheek; and a look of one with evil plans."
"Oh, my God! It is as good as a picture!" said Madam, laughing. "It will all be in the list tomorrow."
They turned into the wine shop, which was closed, because it was the middle of the night, and Madam Defarge went straight to her place at the desk, counting what little money they had taken in while away, counting the barrels, going through the books and adding some numbers of her own, and in every other way making sure the servant who had been watching the place had done his job well, before he was free to go to bed. Then she poured out the coins in the bowl for a second time and started tying them up in her scarf, in a chain of separate knots, to keep them safe during the night. All this time, Defarge, with his pipe in his mouth, walked up and down, quietly looking on, but never saying anything, which is more or less how he acted toward her in all that they did.
The night was hot and the shop, being closed and being near very dirty houses, had a bad smell to it. Mr. Defarge was in no way an expert at smells, but the smell of the wine was always stronger than the taste, and the same was true of the whiskey and other stronger drinks that he sold. He tried to blow the mixture of smells away as he put down his smoked-out pipe.
"You are tired," said Madam, lifting her eyes as she tied the money. "The smells are no worse than at other times."
"I am a little tired," her husband agreed.
"You are a little sad too," said Madam, whose fast eyes were never so busy with studying the books that they did not have a look or two for him. "Oh, you're worried about the men!"
"But my love..." started Defarge.
"But my love!" repeated Madam, moving her head strongly. "But my love! You are a weak one tonight!"
"Well, then," said Defarge, as if a thought was being squeezed out of him, "it is taking so long."
"It is taking a long time," repeated his wife. "And when has it not taken a long time? Paying someone back always takes a long time; it is the rule."
"It does not take a long time to hit a man with lightning," said Defarge.
"How long," asked Madam quietly, "does it take to make and save up the lightning? Tell me that."
Defarge lifted his head to think, as if he could find the answer.
"It does not take a long time," Madam went on, "for an earthquake to swallow a town; but tell me how long it takes to prepare the earthquake."
"A long time, I would think," said Defarge.
"But when it is ready, it happens, and it breaks into pieces everything that stands in its way. Until then, it is always preparing, even when we cannot see or hear it. That is your hope. Keep it in mind."
She tied some coins into her scarf with a look in her eyes like she was killing someone by squeezing their throat.
"I tell you," said Madam, reaching out with her right hand to show what she was saying, "that even if it is a long time on the road, it is on the road, and it is coming. I tell you that it never stops and it never turns back. I tell you that it is always coming closer. Look around and think about the lives of all the people we know; think about the faces of all these people; think about the anger that all of the Jacks are working to let loose and are becoming clearer by the hour about how to do that. Can such things go the distance? How stupid of you to think that they cannot!"
"My brave wife," Defarge returned, standing in front of her with his head bent forward a little, and his hands joined at his back, like a humble student listening to his teacher. "I am not questioning all of this. But it has lasted a long time, and it is possible... you know well, my wife, that it is possible, that it may not come during our lives."
"So? What then?" said Madam, tying another knot like she was squeezing the throat of another enemy.
"Well," said Defarge with a spirit that was partly sorry and partly arguing, "we will not be there to see it."
"But we will have helped it," returned Madam, making a strong movement with her right arm. "Nothing that we do now will be wasted. I believe with all of my heart that we will see it. But even if we do not, even if I knew for sure that we'd not see it, just show me the neck of a rich evil leader, and still I would..."
Then Madam, with her teeth squeezed tightly together, tied a very awful knot for sure.
"Wait!" cried Defarge, turning a little red as if he believed she was saying that he was afraid. "I too, my love, will stop at nothing."
"Yes, but it is your weakness that at times like this you need to see things happening to keep yourself going. Keep the anger alive with what I have said. When the time comes, you can let loose a tiger and a devil and they will do their work, but for now, keep a chain on them both. Don't show your feelings, but always keep them ready."
Madam pushed home the seriousness of what she was saying by hitting her little counter with the chain of coins as if she was knocking its brains out, and then putting the heavy scarf under her arm in a sweet way, and quietly saying that it must be time to go to bed.
At noon the next day this wonderful woman was in her same place in the wine shop knitting away without stopping. There was a red flower lying beside her on the counter, and if she now and then looked at it, it did not in any way take her away from her real interest. There were a few people, drinking or not drinking, standing or seated, around the shop. The day was very hot, and lots of flies were looking in the sticky glasses around Madam for something to drink, only to fall dead at the bottom of them. Their deaths had no effect on the other flies, out walking around, who looked at them in the coolest way (as if they themselves were elephants or some other very different animal with no interest in the deaths of other flies), until they too had died. It is interesting to think about how little thought flies give to such things! It may be that the King and all who were closest to him were acting in the same way that sunny summer day!
A man coming in the door threw a shadow on Madam Defarge which she felt to be a new one. She put down her knitting and started to put the flower in her head scarf even before looking up at the stranger.
Interestingly, the second Madam Defarge picked up the flower, people stopped talking, and one by one they started to leave the wine shop.
"Good day, Madam," said the visitor.
"Good day, sir."
That much she said out loud; but to herself she added, "Age, about forty; about five feet nine; black hair, dark skin for a white man, on the whole good-looking; dark eyes, thin, long face; nose like that of an eagle, but not straight, having a strange bend toward his left cheek; and the look on his face is one of evil plans. Good day, one and all!"
"Be good enough to give me a small glass of the strongest old wine you have, and a mouthful of cool clean water, Madam."
Madam did very nicely what was asked.
"Very good drink, this, Madam!"
It was the first time someone had said something so nice about the drink, and Madam Defarge knew enough about its past to know that it was not as he said. All the same, she said that the wine would be glad to hear that, and returned to her knitting. For a few seconds the visitor watched her fingers, and then used the break from talk to look around the shop itself.
"You are a very good knitter, Madam."
"I have done a lot of it."
"A beautiful pattern too!"
"You think so?" Madam asked with a smile.
"Very much so. May I ask what it is for?"
"A way to use my time," said Madam, still looking at him with a smile while her fingers went on moving.
"Not to be used?"
"Maybe, and maybe not. I may find a use for it one day. If I do... well,..." said Madam, breathing in and moving her head as part of a serious game she was playing with him, "I'll use it!"
Strangely, the people of Saint Antoine did not seem to like that red flower on Madam Defarge's head. Two men, who had come in separately, and who were about to buy drinks, when seeing the flower acted like they had been hoping to meet a friend who was not there, and they went away. At the same time, all of the people who had been there when the stranger first came in, were now gone.
The man working secretly for the government had seen all of this, but he could not work out why it had happened. And they had all left in a way that did not seem to be planned, like it was only by accident that they all chose this time not to be there.
"JOHN," thought Madam to herself, reading over her work as her fingers knitted, and as her eyes looked at the stranger. "Stay long enough, and I will have knitted BARSAD before you leave."
"Are you married, Madam?" "Yes."
"Children?"
"No children."
"Is business bad?"
"Yes, very bad. The people are too poor."
"Oh the poor sad people! So badly used by the rich, as you say!"
"No, as you say," Madam answered, quickly knitting in an extra something after his name... something that would not help him in the future.
"Forgive me, it was I who said it; but surely you think so too, don't you?"
"I think?" returned Madam in a high voice. "I and my husband have enough to do to keep this wine shop open without thinking. All we think of here is how to live. That is what we think of, and it gives us, from morning to night, enough to think about without confusing our heads with thoughts for others. I should think for others? Oh, no!"
The man, who was there to pick up anything he could use against them, did not let it show on his face that she had won that one. But he stood, with his elbow leaning on Madam Defarge's little counter, like one who is relaxed and talking about nothing important, while taking a small drink from time to time from his glass of strong wine.
"A bad business this killing of Gaspard, Madam. Ah, poor Gaspard!" He said this breathing out sadly like he had a great feeling for the man who had been hanged above the fountain.