When this interchange of christian name was effected, Madame
Defarge, picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another
grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another
line.
“It is not often,” said the second of the three, addressing
Monsieur Defarge, “that many of these miserable beasts know the
taste of wine, or of anything but black bread and death. Is it not so,
Jacques?”
“It is so, Jacques,” Monsieur Defarge returned. At this second
interchange of the christian name, Madame Defarge, still using
her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of
cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.
The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty
drinking vessel and smacked his lips.
“Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle
always have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am
I right, Jacques?”
“You are right, Jacques,” was the response of Monsieur
Defarge.
This third interchange of the christian name was completed at
the moment when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her
eyebrows up, and slightly rustled in her seat.
“Hold then! True!” muttered her husband. “Gentlemenmy
wife!”
The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge,
with three flourishes. She acknowledged their homage b