A Tale of Two Cities by Dave Mckay, Charles Dickens (easy readers .txt) 📖

has been here for a long time?"

"I'll do that. Will you be leaving for Paris straight from here.” "Yes, from here, at eight."

"I'll come back to see you off."

Angry with himself, with Stryver, and with most other men, Darnay made his way into a quiet place in Temple, opened the letter, and read it. This is what it said:

Prison of the Abbey, Paris.

June 12, 1792.

Sir, the new Marquis, after being in danger of my life at the hands of the village, I have been very roughly taken a long way, on foot, to Paris. My house has been destroyed, burned to the ground.

They say I am in prison, Sir, and will come before the court, and will be killed (without your generous help) because I have hurt the people of France by acting against them for a man who ran away from France. They can't see that I was trying to help them and not hurt them, as you had asked me to do. I have told them that, before they took your land, I had already forgiven the taxes that they had not paid, and I had asked for no more rent; but they do not listen. They only say that I have acted for a man who ran away, and they ask, 'Where is he?'

Oh, most loving Marquis, Sir, where is that man who left? I cry in my sleep, 'Where is he?' I ask God, 'Will he not come to save me?' No answer. Oh, Sir the Marquis, I send my sad cry across the water, hoping it may reach your ears through the bank of Tellson's that I know has a branch in Paris!

For the love of heaven, of what is fair and generous, for the good of your great name, I beg you, Sir, the new Marquis, to help liberate me. All I did was to be true to you. Please Sir, the new Marquis, be true to me!

From this awful prison here, where each hour brings me closer to death, I send you, Sir, the sad news of where I am.

Your hurting one,

Gabelle.

The thoughts that had been in the back of Darnay's mind before this were brought to life by the letter. What had happened to an old servant, who was also a good servant, whose only wrong was to obey him and his family, looked him so strongly in the face that, as he walked one way and the other in the Temple, thinking about what to do, he almost wanted to hide his face from the people walking by.

He knew very well that his feeling about the awful way his uncle had died, his anger against his uncle, and the voice of his conscience against taking up his uncle's job had all made him act too quickly. He knew very well that, in his love for Lucie, leaving the rich class in France (something he had wanted to do for some time) was hurried and not well thought out. He knew that he should have stayed to be sure that it was done right. He had wanted to do that too, but it had never happened.

The happiness of his English home, the need to be always busy, the fast changes in France, which would force one week's plans to be changed the next, had all worked together to stop him from finishing the job he had started. He knew things were not right, but he had not followed through and put them right. He had watched things change until it was too late to act. The rich were leaving France by every road and highway now, their land taken from them, their homes destroyed, and their names rubbed out. He knew all of this as well as any of the new leaders in France knew it, the ones who might now take action against him for doing nothing.

But he had not hurt anyone, he had put no one in prison, and he was far from taking too much money from the people because he had, in truth, taken none. He had left for a country where he would not be special, and where he was forced to work for himself if he wanted to eat. Mr. Gabelle had been put in control of the land on the understanding that he was to help the people, and to give them what little there was to give, timber for heat in the winter and food from the land in the summer. He had put it in writing to Mr. Gabelle, and surely Gabelle must have shown those papers to the court by now.

All of this gave Charles Darnay more confidence to believe that a trip to Paris would put an end to Mr. Gabelle's problems.

Like the old story of the ship owner who was forced by the storm close to a rock that acted like a magnet to pull his ship into it, Charles Darnay was being pulled, by every thought in his head, more and more toward Paris. His secret worry had been that the wrong targets were being set by the wrong people in his own sad country, and that he, knowing what was needed, should be there trying to do something to stop the killings, and to push for more mercy in the way they acted toward the people they were fighting against. With this feeling half covered and half making him feel guilty, he had come to the point where he judged his actions by those of the brave old man who had tried so hard to obey him. When doing that (which showed himself to be wrong) he remembered the words of his uncle, which had hurt so much at the time, and those of Stryver, which, even if they were very rough, had also hurt for other reasons. And then he had read Gabelle's letter: an innocent prisoner, in danger of death, asking for help in the belief that Charles Darnay would do what was right.

His mind was made up. He must go to Paris.

Yes. The Rock was pulling him like a magnet, and he had no choice but to sail on until he hit it. He knew nothing of the Rock, because he saw little danger. The good spirit in what he had started, even if he had not finished it, made him believe that others in France would see him as a friend. Then, that strong love for doing good, which tricks so many good minds, made a false picture in his mind, and he started to see himself as being able to control the war that was running so wild there now.

As he moved here and there with his thoughts, he started thinking that both Lucie and her father must not know of his plan until after he had gone. Then Lucie would not have to go through the pain of saying goodbye, and her father, always in pain if he remembered the dangers of his past, would be better off to learn about his action in one hit, without thinking about all that could go with it. He gave little thought to how much Lucie's father's fears about remembering his past had added to his confusion about what to do; but it did have some effect on what he ended up doing.

He moved here and there with his thoughts until it was time to return to Tellson's and say goodbye to Mr. Lorry. As soon as he arrived in Paris, he would find this old friend; but he must not say anything to him about his plan at this time.

A coach with fast horses was ready at the bank door, and Jerry was dressed for the trip.

"I have given that letter to the man it was for," said Charles Darnay to Mr. Lorry. "I would never ask you to carry an answer in writing, but could you just tell the sender something?"

"I will gladly do that," said Mr. Lorry, "if it is not too dangerous."

"Not at all. But it is for a prisoner in the Abbey."

"What is his name?” asked Mr. Lorry, with his pocket book open in his hand.

"Gabelle."

"Gabelle. And what should I say to this poor Gabelle, who is in prison?"

"Just that the man has received the letter and will come.”

"Did he say when?"

"He will leave London tomorrow night."

"Any name I should give him?"

"No."

Darnay helped Mr. Lorry to cover himself in warm clothes, and then went with him from the warm air in the old bank, into the wet air of Fleet Street. "Give my love to Lucie, and to little Lucie," said Mr. Lorry as he left, "and take good care of them until I come back.” Charles Darnay shook his head and smiled with some fear as the coach rolled away.

That night... it was the fourteenth of August... he sat up late, and wrote two serious letters, one to Lucie, telling her the reasons why he had to go, and showing her, at length, the reasons he had for feeling confident that there would be no danger for him by being there. The other letter was to the Doctor, asking him to care for Lucie and for their much loved child, and saying the same things that he had said to Lucie, arguing strongly for his belief in both cases. To both, he said that he would send a letter to them as soon as he arrived in Paris, so that they would know that he was safe.

The next day was a difficult one, as it was the first time since they were married, that he had kept a secret from his wife. It was not easy for him to hide something, knowing that she had always trusted him with good reason. He had been close to telling her because he had always had her help when making plans in the past; but one loving look at Lucie, who was so happy and busy, made him strong in his earlier choice not to tell her. Early that evening he hugged her and the little one who also had her name, and whom he loved almost as much as her, then, acting like he would be back in a short time (after making up a false reason to go out, and hiding a suitcase where he could find it later), he stepped out into the heavy clouds on the heavy streets, with a heavier heart.

The invisible magnet was pulling him quickly toward itself now, and all the movements of the ocean and the wind were in the same direction. He left the two letters with a servant whom he could trust, to be given to the others half an hour before midnight, and not before. Then he took a horse to Dover, and started his trip. "For the love of heaven, of what is fair and generous, for the good of your great name," had been the poor prisoner's cry. He used those words to give his heart strength as he left behind all that he loved on earth, and moved away toward the Rock.

Book Three: The Way of a Storm

Book Three: The Way of a Storm

1. In Secret

The trip towards Paris from England was a slow one, late in the year 1792. Even if the King of France had still been in power, there would have been more than enough bad roads, bad coaches, and bad horses to make things difficult; but the changes in France brought new problems there. Every town and village had its group of freedom fighters with guns that they were more than ready to use, who stopped everyone, coming and going, to ask questions, look at their papers, look for their names in lists of their own, turn people back or send them on, or put them in prison as each group should happen to choose, in the name of their new country, where all were to be free and equal brothers or they were to be dead.

Charles Darnay had travelled only a few miles on the roads of France before he knew that he would never be free to return to England without first getting papers to clear himself in Paris. Whatever was ahead of him, there was no turning back now. Every gate that closed behind him on the road was