der the southern wintry sun. Still, the Doctor

walked among the terrors with a steady head. No man better

known than he, in Paris at that day; no man in a stranger

situation. Silent, humane, indispensable in hospital and prison,

using his art equally among assassins and victim, he was a man

apart. In the exercise of his skill, the appearance and the story of

the Bastille Captive removed him from all other men. He was not

suspected or brought in question, any more than if he had indeed

been recalled to life some eighteen years before, or were a spirit

moving among mortals.

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Chapter XXXV

THE WOOD-SAWYER

O

ne year and three months. During all that time Lucie was

never sure, from hour to hour, but that the Guillotine

would strike off her husband’s head next day. Every day,

through the stony streets, the tumbrils now jolted heavily, filled

with Condemned. Lovely girls; bright women, brown-haired,

black-haired, and grey; youths; stalwart men and old; gentle born

and peasant born; all red wine for La Guillotine, all daily brought

into light from the dark cellars of the loathsome prisons, and

carried to her through the streets to slake her devouring thirst.

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death;the last, much the easiest

to bestow, O Guillotine!

If the suddenness of her calamit