s　to　the　remote　region　of　the　Circumference　of　Truth。　There；　Monseigneur　turned；　and　came　back　again；　and　so　in　due　course　of　time　got　himself　shut　up　in　his　sanctuary　by　the　chocolate　sprites；　and　was　seen　no　more。
  The　show　being　over；　the　flutter　in　the　air　became　quite　a　little　storm；　and　the　precious　little　bells　went　ringing　down…stairs。　There　was　soon　but　one　person　left　of　all　the　crowd；　and　he；　with　his　hat　under　his　arm　and　his　snuff…box　in　his　hand；　slowly　passed　among　the　mirrors　on　his　way　out。
  ‘I　devote　you；'　said　this　person；　stopping　at　the　last　door　on　his　way；　and　turning　in　the　direction　of　the　sanctuary；　‘to　the　Devil！'
  With　that；　he　shook　the　snuff　from　his　fingers　as　if　he　had　shaken　the　dust　from　his　feet；　and　quietly　walked　down　stairs。
  He　was　a　man　of　about　sixty；　handsomely　dressed；　haughty　in　manner；　and　with　a　face　like　a　fine　mask。　A　face　of　a　transparent　paleness；　every　feature　in　it　clearly　defined；　one　set　expression　on　it。　The　nose：　beautifully　formed　otherwise；　was　very　slightly　pinched　at　the　top　of　each　nostril。　In　those　two　compressions；　or　dints；　the　only　little　change　that　the　face　ever　showed；　resided。　They　persisted　in　changing　colour　come…times；　and　they　would　be　occasionally　dilated　and　contracted　by　something　like　a　faint　pulsation；　then；　they　gave　a　look　of　treachery；　and　cruelty；　to　the　whole　countenance。　Examined　with　attention；　its　capacity　of　helping　such　a　look　was　to　be　found　in　the　line　of　the　mouth；　and　the　lines　of　the　orbits　of　the　eyes；　being　much　too　horizontal　and　thin；　still；　in　the　effect　the　face　made；　it　was　a　handsome　face；　and　a　remarkable　one。
  Its　owner　went　down　stairs　into　the　court…yard；　got　into　his　carriage；　and　drove　away。　Not　many　people　had　talked　with　him　at　the　reception；　he　had　stood　in　a　little　space　apart；　and　Monseigneur　might　have　been　warmer　in　his　manner。　It　appeared；　under　the　circumstances；　rather　agreeable　to　him　to　see　the　common　people　dispersed　before　his　horses；　and　often　barely　escaping　from　being　run　down。　His　man　drove　as　if　he　were　charging　an　enemy；　and　the　furious　recklessness　of　the　man　brought　no　check　into　the　face；　or　to　the　lips；　of　the　master。　The　complaint　had　sometimes　made　itself　audible；　even　in　that　deaf　city　and　dumb　age；　that；　in　the　narrow　streets　without　footways；　the　fierce　patrician　custom　of　hard　driving　endangered　and　maimed　the　mere　vulgar　in　a　barbarous　manner。　But；　few　cared　enough　for　that　to　think　of　it　a　second　time；　and；　in　this　matter；　as　in　all　others；　the　common　wretches　were　left　to　get　out　of　their　difficulties　as　they　could。
  With　a　wild　rattle　and　clatter；　and　an　inhuman　abandonment　of　consideration　not　easy　to　be　understood　in　these　days；　the　carriage　dashed　through　streets　and　swept　round　corners；　with　women　screaming　before　it；　and　men　clutching　each　other　and　clutching　children　out　of　its　way。　At　last；　swooping　at　a　street　corner　by　a　fountain；　one　of　its　wheels　came　to　a　sickening　little　jolt；　and　there　was　a　loud　cry　from　a　number　of　voices；　and　the　horses　reared　and　plunged。
  But　for　the　latter　inconvenience；　the　carriage　probably　would　not　have　stopped；　carriages　were　often　known　to　drive　on；　and　leave　their　wounded　behind；　and　why　not？　But　the　frightened　valet　had　got　down　in　a　hurry；　and　there　were　twenty　hands　at　the　horses'　bridles。
  ‘What　has　gone　wrong？'　said　Monsieur；　calmly　looking　out。
  A　tall　man　in　a　nightcap　had　caught　up　a　bundle　from　among　the　feet　of　the　horses；　and　had　laid　it　on　the　basement　of　the　fountain；　and　was　down　in　the　mud　and　wet；　howling　over　it　like　a　wild　animal。
  ‘Pardon；　Monsieur　the　Marquis！'　said　a　ragged　and　submissive　man；　‘it　is　a　child。'
  ‘Why　does　he　make　that　abominable　noise？　Is　it　his　child？'
  ‘Excuse　me；　Monsieur　the　Marquisit　is　a　pityyes。'
  The　fountain　was　a　little　removed；　for　the　street　opened；　where　it　was；　into　a　space　some　ten　or　twelve　yards　square。　As　the　tall　man　suddenly　got　up　from　the　ground；　and　came　running　at　the　carriage；　Monsieur　the　Marquis　clapped　his　hand　for　an　instant　on　his　sword…hilt。'
  ‘Killed！'　shrieked　the　man；　in　wild　desperation；　extending　both　arms　at　their　length　above　his　head；　and　staring　at　him。　‘Dead！'
  The　people　closed　round；　and　looked　at　Monsieur　the　Marquis。　There　was　nothing　revealed　by　the　many　eyes　that　looked　at　him　but　watchfulness　and　eagerness；　there　was　no　visible　menacing　or　anger。　Neither　did　the　people　say　anything；　after　the　first　cry；　they　had　been　silent；　and　they　remained　so。　The　voice　of　the　submissive　man　who　had　spoken；　was　flat　and　tame　in　its　extreme　submission。　Monsieur　the　Marquis　ran　his　eyes　over　them　all；　as　if　they　had　been　mere　rats　come　out　of　their　holes。
  He　took　out　his　purse。
  ‘It　is　extraordinary　to　me；'　said　he；　‘that　you　people　cannot　take　care　of　yourselves　and　your　children。　One　or　the　other　of　you　is　for　ever　in　the　way。　How　do　I　know　what　injury　you　have　done　my　horses？　See！　Give　him　that。'
  He　threw　out　a　gold　coin　for　the　valet　to　pick　up；　and　all　the　heads　craned　forward　that　all　the　eyes　might　look　down　at　it　as　it　fell。　The　tall　man　called　out　again　with　a　most　unearthly　cry；　‘Dead！'
  He　was　arrested　by　the　quick　arrival　of　another　man；　for　whom　the　rest　made　way。　On　seeing　him；　the　miserable　creature　fell　upon　his　shoulder；　sobbing　and　crying；　and　pointing　to　the　fountain；　where　some　women　were　stooping　over　the　motionless　bundle；　and　moving　gently　about　it。　They　were　as　silent；　however；　as　the　men。
  ‘I　know　all；　I　know　all；'　said　the　last　comer。　‘Be　a　brave　man；　my　Gaspard！　It　is　better　for　the　poor　little　plaything　to　die　so；　than　to　live。　It　has　died　in　a　moment　without　pain。　Could　it　have　lived　an　hour　as　happily？'
  ‘You　are　a　philosopher；　you　there；'　said　the　Marquis；　smiling。　‘How　do　they　call　you？'
  ‘They　call　me　Defarge。'
  ‘Of　what　trade？'
  ‘Monsieur　the　Marquis；　vendor　of　wine。'
  ‘Pick　up　that；　philosopher　and　vendor　of　wine；'　said　the　Marquis；　throwing　him　another　gold　coin；　‘and　spend　it　as　you　will。　The　horses　there；　are　they　right？
  Without　deigning　to　look　at　the　assemblage　a　second　time；　Monsieur　the　Marquis　leaned　back　in　his　seat；　and　was　just　being　driven　away　with　the　air　of　a　gentleman　who　had　accidentally　broken　some　common　thing；　and　had　paid　for　it；　and　could　afford　to　pay　for　it；　when　his　ease　was　suddenly　disturbed　by　a　coin　flying　into　his　carriage；　and　ringing　on　its　floor。
  ‘Hold！'　said　Monsieur　the　Marquis。　‘Hold　the　horses！　Who　threw　that？'
  He　looked　to　the　spot　where　Defarge　the　vendor　of　wine　had　stood；　a　moment　before；　but　the　wretched　father　was　grovelling　on　his　face　on　the　pavement　in　that　spot；　and　the　figure　that　stood　beside　him　was　the　figure　of　a　dark　stout　woman；　knitting。
  ‘You　dogs！'　said　the　Marquis；　but　smoothly；　and　with　an　unchanged　front；　except　as　to　the　spots　on　his　nose：　‘I　would　ride　over　any　of　you　very　willingly；　and　exterminate　you　from　the　earth。　If　I　knew　which　rascal　threw　at　the　carriage；　and　if　that　brigand　were　sufficiently　near　it；　he　should　be　crushed　under　the　wheels。'
  So　cowed　was　their　condition；　and　so　long　and　hard　their　experience　of　what　such　a　man　could　do　to　them；　within　the　law　and　beyond　it；　that　not　a　voice；　or　a　hand；　or　even　an　eye　was　raised。　Among　the　men；　not　one。　But　the　woman　who　stood　knitting　looked　up　steadily；　and　looked　the　Marquis　in　the　face。　It　was　not　for　his　dignity　to　notice　it；　his　contemptuous　eyes　passed　over　her；　and　over　all　the　other　rats；　and　he　leaned　back　in　his　seat　again；　and　gave　the　word　‘Go　on！'
  He　was　driven　on；　and　other　carriages　came　whirling　by　in　quick　succession；　the　Minister；　the　State…Projector；　the　Farmer…General；　the　Doctor；　the　Lawyer；　the　Ecclesiastic；　the　Grand　Opera；　the　Comedy；　the　whole　Fancy　Ball　in　a　bright　continuous　flow；　came　whirling　by。　The　rats　had　crept　out　of　their　holes　to　look　on；　and　they　remained　looking　on　for　hours；　soldiers　and　police　often　passing　between　them　and　the　spectacle；　and　making　a　barrier　behind　which　they　slunk；　and　through　which　they　peeped。　The　father　had　long　ago　taken　up　his　bundle　and　hidden　himself　away　with　it；　when　the　women　who　had　tended　the　bundle　while　it　lay　on　the　base　of　the　fountain；　sat　there　watching　the　running　of　the　water　and　the　rolling　of　the　Fancy　Ballwhen　the　one　woman　who　had　stood　conspicuous；　knitting；　still　knitted　on　with　the　steadfastness　of　Fate。　The　water　of　the　fountain　ran；　the　swift　river　ran；　the　day　ran　into　evening；　so　much　life　in　the　city　ran　into　death　according　to　rule；　time　and　tide　waited　for　no　man；　the　rats　were　sleeping　close　together　in　their　dark　holes　again；　the　Fancy　Ball　was　lighted　up　at　supper；　all　things　ran　their　course。
  CHAPTER　VIII
  Monseigneur　in　the　Country
  A　BEAUTIFUL　landscape；　with　the　corn　bright　in　it；　but　not　abundant。　Patches　of　poor　rye　where　corn　should　have　been；　patches　of　poor　peas　and　beans；　patches　of　most　coarse　vegetable　substitutes　for　wheat。　On　inanimate　nature；　as　on　the　men　and　women　who　cultivated　it；　a　prevalent　tendency　towards　an　appearance　of　vegetating　unwillinglydejected　disposition　to　give　up；　and　wither　away。
  Monsieur　the　Marquis　in　his　travelling　carriage　（which　might　have　been　lighter）；　conducted　by　four　post…horses　and　two　postilions；　fagged　up　a　steep　hi