prisons to their prisoners. The standard gaoler-joke was

“Come out and listen to the Evening Paper, you inside there!”

“Charles Evremonde, called Darnay!”

So at last began the Evening Paper at La Force.

When a name was called, its owner stepped apart into a spot

reserved for those who were announced as being thus fatally

recorded. Charles Evremonde, called Darnay, had reason to know

the usage; he had seen hundreds pass away so.

His bloated gaoler, who wore spectacles to read with, glanced

over them to assure himself that he had taken his place, and went

through the list, making a similar short pause at each name. There

were twenty-three names, but only twenty were responded to; for

one of the prisoners so summoned had died in gaol and been

forgotten, and two had already been guillotined and forgotten. The

list was read, in the vaulted chamber where Darnay had seen the

associated prisoners on the night of his arrival. Every one of those

had perished in the massacre; every human creature he had since

cared for and parted with, had died on the scaffold.

There were hurried words of farewell and kindness, but the

parting was soon over. It was the incident of every day, and the

society of La Force were engaged in the preparation of some

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

games of forfeits and a little concert, for that evening. The