“In a word,” Madame Defarge went on, “my husband has not

my reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not

his reason for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act

for myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.”

The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in

the submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red

cap.

“Touching those signals, little citizen,” said Madame Defarge,

sternly, “that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear

witness to them this very day?”

“Ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “Every day, in all weathers,

from two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one,

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

474

sometimes without. I know what I know. I have seen with my

eyes.”

He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in

incidental imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals

that he had never seen.

“Clearly plots,” said Jacques Three. “Transparently!”

“There is no doubt of the Jury?” inquired Madame Defarge,

letting her eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.

“Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my

fellow-Jurymen.”

“Now, let me see,” said Madame Defarge, pondering again. “Yet

once more! Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no

feeling either way. Can I