book two chapter eight of a tale of two cities by charles dickens this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by paul adams chapter eight 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 unwillingly a dejected disposition to give up and wither away m the marquis in his travelling carriage which might have been lighter conducted by four post-horses and two postillions fagged up a steep hill a blush on the countenance of m the marquis was no impeachment of his high breeding it was not from within it was occasioned by an external circumstance beyond his control the setting sun the sunset struck so brilliantly into the travelling carriage when it gained the hill-top that its occupant was steeped in crimson it will die out said monsieur the marquis glancing at his hands directly in effect the sun was so low that it dipped at the moment when the heavy drag had been adjusted to the wheel and the carriage slid downhill with a cinderous smell in a cloud of dust the red glow departed quickly the sun and the marquis going down together there was no glow left when the drag was taken off but there remained a broken country bold and open a little village at the bottom of the hill a broad sweep and rise beyond it a church tower a windmill a forest for the chase and a crag with a fortress on it used as a prison round upon all these darkening objects as the night drew on the marquis looked with the air of one who was coming near home the village had its one poor street with its poor brewery poor tannery poor tavern poor stable-yard for relays of post-horses poor fountains all usual poor appointments it had its poor people too all its people were poor and many of them were sitting at their doors shredding spare onions and the like for supper while many were at the fountain washing leaves and grasses and any such small yieldings of the earth that could be eaten expressive sips of what made them poor were not wanting the tax for the state the tax for the church the tax for the lord tax local and tax general were to be paid here and to be paid there according to solemn inscription in the little village until the wonder was that there was any village left unswallowed few children were to be seen and no dogs as to the men and women their choice on earth was stated in the prospect life on the lowest terms that could sustain it down in the little village under the mill or captivity and death in the dominant prison on the crag heralded by a courier in advance and by the cracking of his postilions whips which twined snake-like about their heads in the evening air as if he came attended by the furies monsieur the marquis drew up in his travelling carriage at the posting-house gate it was hard by the fountain and the peasants suspended their operations to look at him he looked at them and saw in them without knowing it the slow sure filing down of misery worn face and figure that was to make the meagreness of frenchmen an english superstition which should survive the truth through the best part of a hundred years monsieur the marquis cast his eyes over the submissive faces that drooped before him as the like of himself had drooped before monseigneur of the court only the difference was that these faces drooped merely to suffer and not to propitiate when a grizzled mender of the roads joined the group bring me hither that fellow said the marquis to the courier the fellow was brought cap in hand and the other fellows closed round to look and listen in the manner of the people at the paris fountain i passed you on the road monseigneur it is true i had the honour of being passed on the road coming up the hill and at the top of the hill both monseigneur it is true what did you look at so fixedly Monseigneur, I looked at the man. He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage."'What man, pig, and why look there?'"'Pardon, Monseigneur, he swung by the chain of the shoe, the drag.'"'Who?'demanded the traveller."'Monseigneur, the man."'May the devil carry away these idiots!"'How do you call the man? "'You know all the men of this part of the country."'Who was it? ' was he?
Your clemency, monseigneur, he was not of this part of the country of all the days of my life. I never saw him swinging by the chain to be suffocated. With your gracious permission that was the wonder of it, monseigneur, his head hanging over like this."He turned himself sideways to the carriage, and leaned back, with his face thrown up to the sky and his head hanging down. then recovered himself fumbled with his cap and made a bow what was he like monseigneur he was whiter than the miller all covered with dust white as a spectre tall as a spectre the picture produced an immense sensation in the little crowd but all eyes without comparing notes with other eyes looked at m the marquis perhaps to observe whether he had any spectre on his conscience truly you did well said the marquis felicitously sensible that such vermin were not to ruffle him to see a thief accompanying my carriage and not open that great mouth of yours bah put him aside monsieur gabelle m gabelle was the postmaster and some other taxing functionary united he had come out with great obsequiousness to assist at this examination and had held the examiner by the drapery of his arm in an official manner bah go aside said m gabelle lay hands on the stranger if he seeks to lodge in your village to-night and be sure that his business is honest monseigneur i am flattered to devote myself to your orders did he run away fellow where is that accursed the accursed was already under the carriage with some half-dozen particular friends pointing out the chain with his blue cap some half-dozen other particular friends promptly called him out and presented him breathless to monsieur the marquis did the man run away dolt when we stopped for the drag monseigneur he precipitated himself over the hillside head first as a person plunges into the river three to it gabelle go on the half-dozen who were peering at the chain were still among the wheels like sheep the wheels turned so suddenly that they were lucky to save their skins and bones they had very little else to save or they might not have been so fortunate the burst with which the carriage started out of the village and up the rise beyond was soon checked by the steepness of the hill gradually it subsided to a foot-pace swinging and lumbering upward among the many sweet scents of a summer night The postillions, with a thousand gossamer gnats circling about them in lieu of the furies, quietly mended the points to the lashes of their whips, the valet walked beside the horses, the courier was audible, trotting on ahead into the dun distance. At the steepest point of the hill there was a little burial-ground, with a cross, and a new large figure of our Saviour on it. It was a poor figure in wood, done by some inexperienced ruffians. rustic carver but he had studied the figure from the life his own maybe for it was dreadfully spare and thin to this distressful emblem of a great distress that had long been growing worse and was not at its worst a woman was kneeling she turned her head as the carriage came up to her rose quickly and presented herself at the carriage door it is you monseigneur monseigneur a petition With an exclamation of impatience, but with his unchangeable face, Monseigneur looked out."'How then, what is it?
Always petitions! '"'Monseigneur, for the love of the great God, my husband, the forester!'"'What of your husband, the forester? Always the same with you people. He cannot pay something.'"'He has paid all, Monseigneur. He is dead!' well he is quiet can i restore him to you alas no monseigneur but he lies yonder under a little heap of poor grass well monseigneur there are so many little heaps of poor grass again well she looked an old woman but was young her manner was one of passionate grief by turns she clasped her venous and knotted hands together with wild energy and laid one of them on the carriage door tenderly caressingly as if it had been a human breast and could be expected to feel the appealing touch monseigneur hear me monseigneur hear my petition my husband died of want so many die of want so many more will die of want again well can i feed them monseigneur the good god knows but i don't ask it my petition is that a morsel of stone or wood with my husband's name may be placed over him to show where he lies otherwise the place will be quickly forgotten it will never be found when i am dead of the same malady i shall be laid under some other heap of poor grass monseigneur there are so many they increase so fast there is so much want monseigneur monseigneur the valet had put her away from the door the carriage had broken into a brisk trot, the postillions had quickened the pace, she was left far behind, and Monseigneur, again escorted by the Furies, was rapidly diminishing the league or two of distance that remained between him and his chateau. The sweet scents of the summer night rose all around them, and rose, as the rain falls, impartially, on the dusty, ragged, and toil-worn group at the fountain not far away, to whom the mender of roads with the the aid of the blue cap without which he was nothing, still enlarged upon his man like a spectre, as long as they could bear it. By degrees, as they could bear no more, they dropped off, one by one, and lights twinkled in little casements, which lights, as the casements darkened, and more stars came out, seemed to have shot up into the sky, instead of having been extinguished. The shadow of a large high-roofed house, and of many overhanging trees was upon monsieur the marquis by that time and the shadow was exchanged for the light of a flambeau as his carriage stopped and the great door of his chateau was opened to him monsieur charles whom i expect has he arrived from england monseigneur not yet End of Book Two, Chapter Eight. Recording by Paul Adams. www.yaunguy.com