about. The day was very hot, and heaps of flies, who were

extending their inquisitive and adventurous perquisitions into all

the glutinous little glasses near madame, fell dead at the bottom.

Their decease made no impression on the other flies out

promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they

themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until

they met the same fate. Curious to consider how heedless flies

are!perhaps they thought as much at Court that sunny summer

day.

A figure entering at the door threw a shadow on Madame

Defarge which she felt to be a new one. She laid down her

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

knitting, and began to pin her rose in her head-dress, before she

looked at the figure.

It was curious. The moment Madame Defarge took up the rose,

the customers ceased talking, and began gradually to drop out of

the wine-shop.

“Good day, madame,” said the newcomer.

“Good day, monsieur.”

She said it aloud, but added to herself, as she resumed her

knitting: “Hah! Good day, age about forty, height about five feet

nine, black hair, generally rather handsome visage, complexion

dark, eyes dark, thin long and sallow face, aquiline nose but not

straight, having a peculiar inclination towards the left cheek which

imparts a sinister expression! Good day, one and all!”

“