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.
`Have you finished your repast, friend?' he asked, in due season.
`Yes, thank you.'
`Come, then! You shall see the apartment that I told you you could occupy. It will suit you to a marvel.'
Out of the wine-shop into the street, out of the street into a courtyard, out of the courtyard up a steep staircase, out of the staircase into a garret--formerly the garret where a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes.
No white-haired man was there now; but, the three men were there who had gone out of the wine-shop singly. And between them and the white-haired man afar off, was the one small link, that they had once looked in at him through the chinks in the wail.
Defarge closed the door carefully, and spoke in a subdued voice:
`Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques Three! This is the witness encountered by appointment, by me, Jacques Four.
He will tell you all. Speak, Jacques Five!
The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with it, and said, `Where shall I commence, monsieur?'
`Commence,' was Monsieur Defarge's not unreasonable reply, `at the commencement.'
`I saw him then, messieurs,' began the mender of roads, a year ago this running summer, underneath the carriage of the Marquis, hanging by the chain. Behold the manner of it. I leaving my work on the road, the sun going to bed, the carriage of the Marquis slowly ascending the hill, he hanging by the chain--like this.'
Again the mender of roads went through the whole performance; in which he ought to have been perfect by that time, seeing that it had been the infallible resource and indispensable entertainment of his village during a whole year.
Jacques One struck in, and asked if he had ever seen the man before?
`Never,' answered the mender of roads, recovering his perpendicular.
Jacques Three demanded how he afterwards recognised him then?
`By his tall figure,' said the mender of roads, softly, and with his finger at his nose. `When Monsieur the Marquis demands that evening,, ``Say, what is he like?'' I make response, ``Tall as a spectre.'''
`You should have said, short as a dwarf,' returned Jacques Two.
`But what did I know? The deed was not then accomplished, neither did he confide in me. Observe! Under those circumstances even, I do not offer my testimony. Monsieur the Marquis indicates me with his finger, standing near our little fountain, and says, ``To me! Bring that rascal!'' My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing.'
`He is right there, Jacques,' murmured Defarge, to him who had interrupted. `Go on!'
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