and that the felons were trying the honest men. The lowest,

cruelest, and worst populace of a city, never without its quantity of

low, cruel, and bad, were the directing spirits of the scene: noisily

commenting, applauding, disapproving, anticipating, and

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

precipitating the result, without a check. Of the men, the greater

part were armed in various ways; of the women, some wore

knives, some daggers, some ate and drank as they looked on, many

knitted. Among these last, was one, with a spare piece of knitting

under her arm as she worked. She was in a front row, by the side

of a man whom he had never seen since his arrival at the Barrier,

but whom he directly remembered as Defarge. He noticed that she

once or twice whispered in his ear, and that she seemed to be his

wife; but, what he most noticed in the two figures was, that

although they were posted as close to himself as they could be,

they never looked towards him. They seemed to be waiting for

something with a dogged determination and they looked at the

Jury, but at nothing else. Under the President sat Doctor Manette,

in his usual quiet dress. As well as the prisoner could see, he and

Mr. Lorry were the only two men there, unconnected with the

Tribunal, who wore their usual clothes, and had not assumed the

coarse garb of the Carmagnole.