carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession through the

streets.

Not before dark night did the men and women come back to the

children, wailing and breadless. Then, the miserable bakers’ shops

were beset by long files of them, patiently waiting to buy bad

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bread; and while they waited with stomachs faint and empty, they

beguiled the time by embracing one another on the triumphs of

the day, and achieving them again in gossip. Gradually, these

strings of ragged people shortened and frayed away; and then

poor lights began to shine in high windows, and slender fires were

made in the streets, at which neighbours cooked in common,

afterwards supping at their doors.

Scanty and insufficient suppers those, and innocent of meat, as

of most other sauce to wretched bread. Yet, human fellowship

infused some nourishment into the flinty viands, and struck some

sparks of cheerfulness out of them. Fathers and mothers who had

their full share in the worst of the day, played gently with their

meagre children; and lovers, with such a world around them and

before them, loved and hoped.

It was almost morning, when Defarge’s wine-shop parted with

its last knot of customers, and Monsieur Defarge said to madame

his wife, in husky tones, while fastening the door:

“At last it is come, my dear!”