a tale of two cities(双城记)-第65节

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to　several　wine…shops；　she　stopped　at　the　sign　of　The　Good　Republican　Brutus　of　Antiquity；　not　far　from　the　National　Palace；　once　（and　twice）　the　Tuileries；　where　the　aspect　of　things　rather　took　her　fancy。　It　had　a　quieter　look　than　any　other　place　of　the　same　description　they　had　passed；　and；　though　red　with　patriotic　caps；　was　not　so　red　as　the　rest。　Sounding　Mr。　Cruncher；　and　finding　him　of　her　opinion；　Miss　Pross　resorted　to　The　Good　Republican　Brutus　of　Antiquity；　attended　by　her　cavalier。　
　Slightly　observant　of　the　smoky　lights；　of　the　people；　pipe　in　mouth；　playing　with　limp　cards　and　yellow　dominoes；　of　the　one　bare…breasted；　bare…armed；　soot…begrimed　workman　reading　a　journal　aloud；　and　of　the　others　listening　to　him；　of　the　weapons　worn；　or　laid　aside　to　be　resumed；　of　the　two　or　three　customers　fallen　forward　asleep；　who　in　the　popular　high…　shouldered　shaggy　black　spencer　looked；　in　that　attitude；　like　slumbering　bears　or　dogs；　the　two　outlandish　customers　approached　the　counter；　and　showed　what　they　wanted。　
　As　their　wine　was　measuring　out；　a　man　parted　from　another　man　in　a　comer；　and　rose　to　depart。　In　going；　he　had　to　face　Miss　Pross。　No　sooner　did　he　face　her；　than　Miss　Pross　uttered　a　scream；　and　clapped　her　hands。　
　In　a　moment；　the　whole　company　were　on　their　feet。　That　somebody　was　assassinated　by　somebody　vindicating　a　difference　of　opinion　was　the　likeliest　occurrence。　Everybody　looked　to　see　somebody　fall；　but　only　saw　a　man　and　a　woman　standing　staring　at　each　other；　the　man　with　all　the　outward　aspect　of　a　Frenchman　and　a　thorough　Republicans　the　woman；　evidently　English。　
　What　was　said　in　this　disappointing　anti…climax；　by　the　disciples　of　the　Good　Republican　Brutus　of　Antiquity；　except　that　it　was　something　very　voluble　and　loud；　would　have　been　as　so　much　Hebrew　or　Chaldean　to　Miss　Pross　and　her　protector；　though　they　had　been　all　ears。　But；　they　had　no　ears　for　anything　in　their　surprise。　For；　it　must　be　recorded；　that　not　only　was　Miss　Pross　lost　in　amazement　and　agitation；　but；　Mr。　Cruncherthough　it　seemed　on　his　own　separate　and　individual　accountwas　in　a　state　of　the　greatest　wonder。　
　‘What　is　the　matter？'　said　the　man　who　had　caused　Miss　Pross　to　scream；　speaking　in　a　vexed；　abrupt　voice　（though　in　a　low　tone）；　and　in　English。　
　‘Oh；　Solomon；　dear　Solomon！'　cried　Miss　Pross；　clapping　her　hands　again。　‘Alter　not　setting　eyes　upon　you　or　hearing　of　you　for　so　long　a　time；　do　I　find　you　here！'　
　Don't　call　me　Solomon。　Do　you　want　to　be　the　death　of　me？'　asked　the　man；　in　a　furtive；　frightened　way。　
　‘Brother；　brother！'　cried　Miss　Pross；　bursting　into　tears。　‘Have　I　ever　been　so　hard　with　you　that　you　ask　me　such　a　cruel　question？'　
　Then　hold　your　meddlesome　tongue；'　said　Solomon；　‘and　come　out；　if　you　want　to　speak　to　me。　Pay　for　your　wine；　and　come　out。　Who's　this　man？'　
　Miss　Pross；　shaking　her　loving　and　dejected　had　at　her　by　no　means　affectionate　brother；　said　through　her　tears；　‘Mr。　Cruncher。'　
　‘Let　him　come　out　too；'　said　Solomon。　‘Does　he　think　me　a　ghost？'　
　Apparently；　Mr。　Cruncher　did；　to　judge　from　his　looks。　He　said　not　a　word；　however；　and　Miss　Pross；　exploring　the　depths　of　her　reticule　through　her　tears　with　great　difficulty；　paid　for　her　wine。　As　she　did　so；　Solomon　turned　to　the　followers　of　the　Good　Republican　Brutus　of　Antiquity；　and　offered　a　few　words　of　explanation　in　the　French　language；　which　caused　them　all　to　relapse　into　their　former　places　and　pursuits。　
　‘Now；'　said　Solomon；　stopping　at　the　dark　street　corner；　‘what　do　you　want？'　
　‘How　dreadfully　unkind　in　a　brother　nothing　has　ever　turned　my　love　away　from！'　cried　Miss　Pross；　‘to　give　me　such　a　greeting；　and　show　me　no　affection。'　
　‘There。　Con…found　it！　There；'　said　Solomon；　making　a　dab　at　Miss　Pross's　lips　with　his　own。　‘Now　are　you　content？'　
　Miss　Pross　only　shook　her　head　and　wept　in　silence。　
　‘If　you　expect　me　to　be　surprised；'　said　her　brother　Solomon；　‘I　am　not　surprised；　I　knew　you　were　here；　I　know　of　most　people　who　are　here。　If　you　really　don't　want　to　endanger　my　existencewhich　I　half　believe　you　dogo　your　ways　as　soon　as　possible；　and　let　me　go　mine。　I　am　busy。　I　am　an　official。'　
　‘My　English　brother　Solomon；'　mourned　Miss　Pross；　casting　up　her　tear…fraught　eyes；　‘that　had　the　makings　in　him　of　one　of　the　best　and　greatest　of　men　in　his　native　country；　an　official　among　foreigners；　and　such　foreigners！　I　would　almost　sooner　have　seen　the　dear　boy　lying　in　his…'　
　‘I　said　so！'　cried　her　brother；　interrupting。　‘I　knew　it。　You　want　to　be　the　death　of　me。　I　shall　be　rendered　Suspected；　by　my　own　sister。　Just　as　I　am　getting　on！'　
　‘The　gracious　and　merciful　Heavens　forbid！'　cried　Miss　Pross。　‘Far　rather　would　I　never　see　you　again；　dear　Solomon；　though　I　have　ever　loved　you　truly；　and　ever　shall。　Say　but　one　affectionate　word　to　me；　and　tell　me　there　is　nothing　angry　or　estranged　between　us；　and　I　will　detain　you　no　longer。'　
　Good　Miss　Pross！　As　if　the　estrangement　between　them　had　come　of　any　culpability　of　hers。　As　if　Mr。　Lorry　had　not　known　it　for　a　fact；　years　ago；　in　the　quiet　corner　in　Soho；　that　this　precious　brother　had　spent　her　money　and　left　her！　
　He　was　saying　the　affectionate　word；　however；　with　a　far　more　grudging　condescension　and　patronage　than　lie　could　have　shown　if　their　relative　merits　and　positions　had　been　reversed　（which　is　invariably　the　case；　all　the　world　over）；　when　Mr。　Cruncher；　touching　him　on　the　shoulder；　hoarsely　and　unexpectedly　interposed　with　the　following　singular　question：　
‘I　say！　Might　I　ask　the　favour？　As　to　whether　your　name　is　John　Solomon；　or　Solomon　John？'　
　The　official　turned　towards　him　with　sudden　distrust。　He　had　not　previously　uttered　a　word。　
　‘Come！'　said　Mr。　Cruncher。　‘Speak　out；　you　know。'　（Which；　by　the　way；　was　more　than　he　could　do　himself。）　‘John　Solomon；　or　Solomon　John？　She　calls　you　Solomon；　and　she　must　know；　being　your　sister。　And　I　know　you're　John；　you　know。　Which　of　the　two　goes　first？　And　regarding　that　name　of　Pross；　likewise。　That　warn't　your　name　over　the　water。　
　‘What　do　you　mean？'　
　‘Well；　I　don't　know　all　I　mean；；　for　I　can't　call　to　mind　Mat　your　name　was；　over　the　water。　
　‘No。　But　I'll　swear　it　was　a　name　of　two　syllables。'　
‘Indeed？'　
　‘Yes。　T'other　one's　was　one　syllable。　I　know　you。　You　wa；　a　spy…witness　at　the　Bailey。　What；　in　the　name　of　the　Father　of　Lies；　own　father　to　yourself　was　you　called　at　that　time？'　
　‘Barsad；'　said　another　voice；　striking　in。　
　‘That's　the　name　for　a　thousand　pound！'　cried　Jerry。　
　The　speaker　who　struck　in；　was　Sydney　Carton。　He　had　his　hands　behind　him　under　the　skirts　of　his　riding…coat；　and　he　stood　at　Mr。　Cruncher's　elbow　as　negligently　as　he　might　have　stood　at　the　Old　Bailey　itself。　
　‘Don't　be　alarmed；　my　dear　Miss　Pross。　I　arrived　at　Mr。　Lorry's；　to　his　surprise；　yesterday　evening；　we　agreed　that　I　would　not　present　myself　elsewhere　until　all　was　well；　or　unless　I　could　be　useful；　I　present　myself　here；　to　beg　a　little　talk　with　your　brother。　I　wish　you　had　a　better　employed　brother　than　Mr。　Barsad。　I　wish　for　your　sake　Mr。　Barsad　was　not　a　Sheep　of　the　Prisons。　
　Sheep　was　a　cant　word　of　the　time　for　a　spy；　under　the　gaolers。　The　spy；　who　was　pale；　turned　paler；　and　asked　him　how　he　dared…　
　‘I'll　tell　you；'　said　Sydney。　‘I　lighted　on　you；　Mr。　Barsad；　coming　out　of　the　prison　of　the　Conciergerie　while　I　was　contemplating　the　walls；　an　hour　or　more　ago。　You　have　a　face　to　be　remembered；　and　I　remember　faces　well。　Made　curious　by　seeing　you　in　that　connection；　and　having　a　reason；　to　which　you　are　no　stranger；　for　associating　you　with　the　misfortunes　of　a　friend　now　very　unfortunate；　I　walked　in　your　direction。　I　walked　into　the　wine…shop　here；　close　after　you；　and　sat　near　you。　I　had　no　difficulty　in　deducing　from　your　unreserved　conversation；　and　the　rumour　openly　going　about　among　your　admirers；　the　nature　of　your　calling。　And　gradually；　what　I　had　done　at　random；　seemed　to　shape　itself　into　a　purpose；　Mr。　Barsad。'　
　‘What　purpose？'　the　spy　asked。　
　‘It　would　be　troublesome；　and　might　be　dangerous；　to　explain　in　the　street。　Could　you　favour　me；　in　confidence；　with　some　minutes　of　your　companyat　the　office　of　Tellson's　Bank；　for　instance？'　
　‘Under　a　threat？'　
　‘Oh！　Did　I　say　that？'　
　‘Then；　why　should　I　go　there？'　
　‘Really；　Mr。　Barsad；　I　can't　say；　if　you　can't。'　
　‘Do　you　mean　that　you　won't　say；　sir？'　the　spy　irresolutely　asked。　
　‘You　apprehend　me　very　clearly；　Mr。　Barsad。　I　won't。'　
　Carton's　negligent　recklessness　of　manner　came　powerfully　in　aid　of　his　quickness　and　skill；　in　such　a　business　as　he　had　in　his　secret　mind；　and　with　such　a　man　as　he　had　to　do　with。　His　practised　eye　saw　it；　and　made　the　most　of　it。　
　‘Now；　I　told　you　so；'　said　the　spy；　casting　a　reproachful　look　at　his　sister；　‘if　any　trouble　comes　of　this；　it's　your　doing。'　
　‘Come；　come；　Mr。　Barsad！'　exclaimed　Sydney。　‘Don't　be　ungrateful。　But　for　my　great　respect　for　your　sister；　I　might　not　have　led　up　so　pleasantly　to　a　little　proposal　that　I　wish　to　make　for　our　mutual　satisfaction。　Do　you　go　with　me　to　the　Bank？'　
　‘I'll　hear　what　you　have　got　to　say。　Yes；　I‘ll　go　with　you。'　
‘I　propose　that　we　first　conduct　your　sister　safely　to　the　corner　of　her　own　street。