The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left

it. He and his books were in frequent requisition as to property

confiscated and made national. What he could save for the owners,

he saved. No better man living to hold fast by what Tellson’s had

in keeping, and to hold his peace.

A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine,

denoted the approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they

arrived at the Bank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was

altogether blighted and deserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes

in the court, ran the letters: National Property. Republic One and

Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!

Who could that be with Mr. Lorrythe owner of the riding-coat

upon the chairwho must not be seen? From whom newly

arrived, did he come out, agitated and surprised, to take his

favourite in his arms? To whom did he appear to repeat her

faltering words, when, raising his voice and turning his head

towards the door of the room from which he had issued, he said:

“Removed to the Conciergerie, and summoned for tomorrow?”

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Chapter XXXVI

TRIUMPH

T

he dread Tribunal of five Judges, Public Prosecutor, and

determined Jury, sat every day. Their lists went forth

every evening, and were read out by the gaolers of the

various