“A bad truth for you,” said Defarge, speaking with knitted

brows, and looking straight before him.

“Indeed I am lost here. All here is so unprecedented, so

changed, so sudden and unfair, that I am absolutely lost. Will you

render me a little help?”

“None.” Defarge spoke, always looking straight before him.

“Will you answer me a single question?”

“Perhaps. According to its nature. You can say what it is.”

“In this prison that I am going to so unjustly, shall I have some

free communication with the world outside?”

“You will see.”

“I am not to be buried there, prejudiced, and without any

means of presenting my case?”

“You will see. But, what then? Other people have been

similarly buried in worse prisons, before now.”

“But never by me, Citizen Defarge.”

Defarge glanced darkly at him for answer, and walked on in a

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steady and set silence. The deeper he sank into this silence, the

fainter hope there wasor so Darnay thoughtof his softening in

any slight degree. He, therefore, made haste to say:

“It is of the utmost importance to me (you know, Citizen, even

better than I do, of how much importance), that I should be able to

communicate to Mr. Lorry of Tellson’s Bank, an English

gentleman who is now in Paris, the simple fact without comment,

that I have been thrown into the pr