书虫双城记.docx
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书虫双城记
双城记
1TheroadtoParis—1775
Itwasthebestoftimes,itwastheworstoftimes.Itwastheseasonoflight,itwastheseasonofdarkness.Itwasthespringofhope,itwasthewinterofsadness.Itwastheyearonethousandsevenhundredandseventy-five.
InFrancetherewasaKingandaQueen,andinEnglandtherewasaKingandaQueen.Theybelievedthatnothingwouldeverchange.ButinFrancethingswerebad,andgettingworse.Thepeoplewerepoor,hungryandunhappy.TheKingmadepapermoneyandspentit,andthepeoplehadnothingtoeat.Behindcloseddoorsinthehomesofthepeople,voicesspokeinwhispersagainsttheKingandhisnoblemen;theywereonlywhispers,buttheyweretheangrywhispersofdesperatepeople.
LateoneNovembernight,inthatsameyear1775,acoachgoingfromLondontoDover,stoppedatthetopofalonghill.Thehorsesweretired,butastheyrested,thedriverheardanotherhorsecomingfastupthehillbehindthem.Theriderstoppedhishorsebesidethecoachandshouted:
'Iwantapassenger,MrJarvisLorry,fromTellson'sBankinLondon.'
'IamMrJarvisLorry,'saidoneofthepassengers,puttinghisheadoutofthewindow.'Whatdoyouwant?
'
'It'sme!
Jerry,JerryCruncher,fromTellson'sBank,sir,'criedthemanonthehorse.
'What'sthematter,Jerry?
'calledMrLorry.
Amessageforyou,MrLorry.You'vegottowaitatDoverforayounglady.'
'Verywell,Jerry,'saidMrLorry.'TellthemmyanswerisCAMEBACKTOLIFE'.
Itwasastrangemessage,andastrangeranswer.Nooneinthecoachunderstoodwhattheymeant.
ThenextdayMrLorrywassittinginhishotelinDoverwhenayoungladyarrived.Shewaspretty,withgoldenhairandblueeyes,andMrLorryrememberedasmallchild,almostababy.HehadcarriedherinhisarmswhenhecamefromCalaistoDover,fromFrancetoEngland,manyyearsago.MrLorryaskedtheyoungladytositdown.
'MissManette,'hesaid.'Ihaveastrangestorytotellyou,aboutoneofthecustomersofTellson'sBank.That'swhereIwork.'
'Yes,butIdon'tquiteunderstand,MrLorry,'saidtheyounglady.'IreceivedamessagefromTellson'sBank,askingmetocomeheretomeetyou.Iunderstoodtherewassomenewsaboutmypoorfather'smoney.Hediedsolongago—beforeIwasborn.Whatisthisstoryyouwanttotellme?
'
'Abouttwentyyearsago,MissManette,aFrenchdoctormarriedanEnglishlady.Theyhadadaughter,butjustbeforeshewasborn,herfatherdisappeared.Nobodyknewwhathadhappenedtohim.Notlongafterwardshisunhappywifedied,andtheirdaughterwasbroughtbacktoEngland.'
'Butthisislikemyfather'sstory,MrLorry.Andwasn'tityouwhobroughtmebacktoEngland?
'
'Yes,that'strue,MissManette.ManyyearsagoIbroughtyoufromFrancetoEngland,andTellson'sBankhastakencareofyousincethen.Youweretoldthatyourfatherhaddied.Butthink,MissManette.Perhapsyourfatherwasn'tdead.Perhapshewasinprison.Notbecausehehaddonesomethingwrong!
Butjustbecausehehadapowerfulenemy—anenemywiththepowertosendhimtoprisonandtokeephimthere,hiddenandforgotten,foreighteenyears!
'
'Canitbetrue?
Isitpossiblethatmyfatherisstillalive?
'LucieManettestaredatMrLorry.Herfacewaswhiteandherhandstrembled.'Itwillbehisghost—nothim!
'
'No,MissManette,'saidMrLorrygently.'Heisalive,buthehaschangedverymuch.Evenhisnamehadbeenforgotten!
Andwemustasknoquestionsaboutthepast,noquestionsatall.Itwouldbetoodangerous.HehasbeentakentothehouseofanoldservantinParis,andwearegoingtheretobringhimbacktolife.'
2Awine-shopinParis
InthepartofPariscalledSaintAntoineeveryonewaspoor.Thestreetswerenarrowanddirty,thefood-shopswerealmostempty.Thefacesofthechildrenlookedoldalready,becausetheyweresohungry.Inthewine-shopofMonsieurDefargetherewerenotmanycustomersandDefargewasoutside,talkingtoamaninthestreet.Hiswife,MadameDefarge,satinsidetheshop,knittingandwatching.Defargecameinandhiswifelookedathim,thenturnedhereyestolookattwonewcustomers,amanofaboutsixtyandayounglady.Defargewentovertospeaktothem,suddenlykissedtheyounglady'shand,andledthemoutofthebackoftheshop.Theyfollowedhimupstairs,manystairs,untiltheyreachedthetop.Defargetookakeyoutofhispocket.
'Whyisthedoorlocked?
'askedMrLorryinsurprise.'Heisafreemannow.'
'Becausehehaslivedtoolongbehindalockeddoor,'repliedDefargeangrily.'Heisafraidifthedoorisnotlocked!
Thatisoneofthethingstheyhavedonetohim.'
'I'mafraid,too,'whisperedMissManette.HerblueeyeslookedworriedlyatMrLorry.'Iamafraidofhim—ofmyfather.'
Defargemadealotofnoiseasheopenedthedoor.MrLorryandLuciewentintotheroombehindhim.Athin,white-hairedmanwassittingonawoodenseat.Hewasverybusy,makingshoes.
'Goodday,'saidDefarge.'Youarestillworkinghard,Isee.'
Afterawhiletheyheardawhisper.'Yes,Iamstillworking.'
'Come,'saidDefarge.'Youhaveavisitor.Tellhimyourname.'
'Myname?
'camethewhisper.'OneHundredandFive,NorthTower.'
MrLorrymovedclosertotheoldman.'DrManette,don'tyourememberme,JarvisLorry?
'heaskedgently.
TheoldprisonerlookedupatMrLorry,buttherewasnosurprise,nounderstandinginhistiredface,andhewentbacktoworkmakingshoes.
SlowlyLuciecameneartotheoldman.Afterawhilehenoticedher.
'Whoareyou?
'heasked.
Lucieputherarmsaroundtheoldmanandheldhim,tearsofhappinessandsadnessrunningdownherface.Fromalittlebagtheoldmantooksomegoldenhair.Helookedatit,andthenhelookedatLucie'shair.'Itisthesame.Howcanitbe?
'HestaredintoLucie'sface.'No,no,youaretooyoung,tooyoung.'
ThroughhertearsLucietriedtoexplainthatshewasthedaughterhehadneverseen.Theoldmanstilldidnotunderstand,butheseemedtolikethesoundofLucie'svoiceandthetouchofherwarmyounghandonhis.
ThenLuciesaidtoMrLorry,'IthinkweshouldleaveParisatonce.Canyouarrangeit?
'
'Yes,ofcourse,'saidMrLorry.'Butdoyouthinkheisabletotravel?
'
'Hewillbebetterfarawayfromthiscitywherehehaslostsomuchofhislife,'saidLucie.
'Youareright,'saidDefarge.'AndtherearemanyotherreasonswhyDrManetteshouldleaveFrancenow.'
WhileMrLorryandDefargewenttoarrangeforacoachtotakethemoutofParis,Luciesatwithherfather.Exhaustedbythemeeting,hefellasleeponthefloor,andhisdaughterwatchedhimquietlyandpatientlyuntilitwastimetogo.
WhenMrLorryreturned,heandDefargebroughtfoodandclothesforDrManette.TheDoctordideverythingtheytoldhimtodo;hehadbeenusedtoobeyingordersforsomanyyears.Ashecamedownthestairs,MrLorryheardhimsayagainandagain,'OneHundredandFive,NorthTower.'
Whentheywenttothecoach,onlyonepersonsawthemgo:
MadameDefarge.Shestoodinthedoorway,andknittedandwatched,seeingeverything…andseeingnothing.
3AtrialinLondon—1780
Tellson'sBankintheCityofLondonwasanold,dark,anduglybuilding.Itsmeltofdustandoldpapers,andthepeoplewhoworkedthereallseemedoldanddusty,too.OutsidethebuildingsatJerryCruncher,whocarriedmessagesforpeopleinthebank.
OnemorninginMarch1780,JerryhadtogototheOldBaileytocollectanimportantmessagefromMrLorry.TrialsattheOldBaileywereusuallyforverydangerouscriminals,andtheprisonerthatmorningwasayoungmanofabouttwenty—five,welldressedandquitecalm.
'What'shedone?
'Jerryaskedthedoormanquietly.
'He'saspy!
AFrenchspy!
'thedoormantoldhim.'HetravelsfromEnglandtoFranceandtellstheFrenchKingsecretinformationaboutourEnglisharmy.'
'What'llhappenifhe'sguilty?
'askedJerry.
'oh,he'llhavetodie,noquestionofthat,'repliedthedoormanenthusiastically.'They'llhanghim.'
'What'shisname?
'
'Darnay,CharlesDarnay.NotanEnglishname,isit?
'
WhileJerrywaited,helookedaroundatthecrowdinsidetheOldBaileyandnoticedayoungladyofabouttwentyyears,andherfather,agentlemanwithverywhitehair.Theyoungladyseemedverysadwhenshelookedattheprisoner,andheldherselfclosetoherfather.
Thenthetrialbegan,andthefirstpersonwhospokeagainstCharlesDarnaywascalledJohnBarsad.
Hewasanhonestman,hesaid,andproudtobeanEnglishman.Yes,hewas,orhadbeen,afriendoftheprisoner's.Andintheprisoner'spocketshehadseenimportantplansandlistsabouttheEnglisharmies.No,ofcoursehehadnotputtheliststherehimself.Andno,hewasnotaspyhimself,hewasnotsomeonepaidtomaketrapsforinnocentpeople.
Nexttheyoungladyspoke.ShesaidthatshehadmettheprisonerontheboatwhichhadcarriedherandherfatherfromFrancetoEngland.'Hewasverygoodandkindtomyfatherandtome,'shesaid.
'Washetravellingaloneontheship?
'
'No,hewaswithtwoFrenchgentlemen.'
'Now,MissManette,didyouseehimshowthemanypapers,oranythingthatlookedlikealist?
'
'No,Ididn'tseeanythinglikethat.'
Questions,questions,questions!
Thetrialwenton,andfinally,asmall,red-hairedmanspoke.HetoldthejudgethathehadseenMrDarnayatahotelinatownwherethereweremanysoldiersandships.Thenoneofthelawyers,amancalledSydneyCarton,wrotesomewordsonapieceofpaper,andgaveittoMrStryver,thelawyerwhowasspeakingforMrDarnay.
'Areyouquitesurethattheprisoneristhemanyousaw?
'MrStryveraskedthered-hairedman.
'Quitesure,'saidtheman.
Haveyoueverseenanyoneliketheprisoner?
'asked