`She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it her. Not that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was.'

The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this disagreeable companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in the strait of the day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and thanked him for it.

`I neither want any thanks, nor merit any,' was the careless rejoinder. `It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don't know why I did it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let' me ask you a question.'

`Willingly, and a small return for your good offices.'

`Do you think I particularly like you?'

`Really, Mr. Carton,' returned the other, oddly disconcerted, `I have not asked myself the question.'

`But ask yourself the question now.'

`You have acted as if you do; but I don't think you do.'

`1 don't think I do,' said Carton. `I begin to have a very good opinion of your understanding.'

`Nevertheless,' pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, `there is nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and our parting without ill-blood on either side.'

Carton rejoining, `Nothing in life!' Darnay rang. `Do you call the whole reckoning?' said Carton. On his answering in the affirmative, `Then bring me another pint of this same wine, drawer, and come and wake me at ten.'

The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good-night. Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with something of a threat of defiance in his manner, and said, `A last word, Mr. Darnay: you think I am drunk?'

`I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton.'

`Think? You know I have been drinking.'

`Since I must say so, I know it.'

`Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me.'

`Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better.'

`May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don't let your sober face elate you, however; you don't know what it may come to. Good-night!'

When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle, went to a glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it.

`Do you particularly like the man?' he muttered, at his own image; `why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change you have made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he shows you what you have fallen away from, and what you might have been! Change places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he was? Come on, and have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow.'