ATALE OF TWO CITIES

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXX, 17 June 1936, Page 5

ATALE OF TWO CITIES

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SYNOPSIS—CharIes Darnay returns to France from London during the French Revolution to save the life of Gabelle, his old tutor, who had taught him the new humanitarian doctrine of equality. He is arrested as an aristocrat —an Evremonde—and cast into gaol. His wife, Lucie, their little daughter, and Lucie's father Dr Manette, imprisoned in the Bastille, unjustly, for 18 years, by the slain Marquis of Evremonde, follow Darnay to Paris to save his life—a new law having declared the life of any aristocrat returning to France forfeit to the Revolution. THE TRIAL CHAPTER IX

women in the court room, with knives, bayonets, swords and sickles. ! Many of the spectators had brought food with them and devoured it as unconcernedly as though they were onlookers at a show. An aristocrat was in the dock. The President of the Tribunal addressed him: “Former Count D’Etournelle, have you anything to say in your defence?” “Nothing that would make an impression on you. I prefer the dignity of silence.” “Guilty” pronounced the president. “He’ll have silence a long silence!” shrilled the voice of La Vengeance, as the Public Prosecutor called a humble seamstress to the dock. “What is your profession?” he asked the prisoner. “I am a seamstress. Citizen.” “You are accused of consorting openly with Pierre Cot who spoke slightingly of the Revolution.” “You should not have such friends, Citizeness,” said the president of the Tribunal. “Guilty!” The trembling little seamstress was lead away, passing Charles Darnay on the bench. The voice of the president continued: “The Marquis St. Evremonde, called Darnay, suspected as an enemy of the Republic.” As Darnay was escorted to the dock he glanced across the room into the agonised eyes of Lucie. Shouts accompanied his progress to the dock, coming from among those surrounding Madame Defarge. “Take off his head” —“An enemy of the Republic!” The president rang a bell on the desk before him. The tumult died down and the Prosecutor addressed the prisoner. “You are accused under the decree which forbids the return of all aristocrat emigrants on the pain of death.” “I submit that I am not an emigrant in that sense of the word,” said Darnay quietly. “I relinquished my title before the Revolution began.” “For what reason?” “I felt that I would rather live on my own industry in England than on the already overburdened people of France.” “Then why did you come back to France.” “I came to save a friend of the people who was unjustly accused. I hope that is not criminal in the eyes of the Republic.” The president leaned forward. “And the name of that citizen?” “Citizen Gabelle.” “Is he here?” “I do not know.” “Citizen Gabelle!” called the president. There was no response to the summons, even after it had been repeated. “He is not here.” “Why is he not here?” asked the Prosecutor. “I do not know.” “You hear that, Jury.” The president interposed. “The man he came to save is not here and he does not know why he is not here!” “Have you any other proof of equal value?” asked the Posecutor. “Dr Manette will speak for me.” “Will he stand up?” asked the President. Manette made his way forward amid words of approval from the crowd. “Dr Manette, we all know you as one of the sufferers under the old regime. What do you know of the prisoner?” “Citizens.” Manette addressed the entire court room, “you all know of my long imprisonment. I was released by the aid of my good friends the Defarges. Citizens, I know the prisoner well. In the past few years he and I became close friends —” When some remarks of disapproval from the citizens had died away, he continued: “I know where his sympathies are—with the people. They always were. He is a true citizen of the Republic—” “Words are easy!” interrupted a voice from among the people. “What better proof could I give you,” continued Dr Manette. “than this —that when he asked for my only daughter’s hand in marriage, I gave my consent gladly . . Citizens, for eighteen years I suffered unspeakable tortures in the Bastille. Could I have given my daughter to a man whose sympathies are with those who tortured me?” His words had made an impression; the court room was suddenly very quiet. “There is very little left for me in this life, Citizens—only my daughter’s happiness which now is in the hands of the prisoner. I have suffered enough from my enemies. From you, who are my friends, to whom I owe my freedom, may I not ask a final blessing? May I not ask the liberty to enjoy what is left —in peace?” Shouts of approval were raised in the court room; he had roused the sympathies of the revolutionary party: “The old man is a martyr!”— “He has suffered enough!” The jurymen began to vote individually. “Not guilty”—“Not guilty”—■ The president rang the bell: “This Tribunal declares that —” Sharp and strident rose the voice of Madame Defarge: “Stop!” (To be continued)

The next day found Lucie and her father and her little daughter in the street before La Force prison, looking up at the windows in the Tower. “Can he see us, Father?” “I am sure he can. You may kiss your hand towards that highest shelving roof up there.” “I do so, Father,” replied Lucie, kissing her hand, “and I send my soul with it.” “And now good-bye, my dear, I must go to see if I can arrange for Charles’s trial. I will try to get the Defarges to help me they have some power with the Revolutionary authorities.” He kissed them and took his departure. Lucie looked up at the tower again. “If Father sees us, why doesn’t he come down?’.’ asked her daughter. “He will if we wait long enough, darling.” Rain or shine, Lucie was to be found in the street before the prison, her eyes raised to the forbidding tower of La Force. One bright day when little Lucie accompanied her, the child cried: “Mummy, something white up there —look!” From a tiny window in the top of the tower a white handkerchief was waving. “He sees us!” cried Lucie. “Wave, dear, wave!” She caught the child up in her arms. After a time the handkerchief ceased waving and was withdrawn. “Thank God he knows we are here, and thinking of him,” said Lucie, putting the child down. “We must go back now.” As they passed the wood-cutter’s shed, he spoke to them. “Walking here again, Citizeness?” “Yes, Citizen.” “Your mother, is it not, my little citizeness?” he spoke to the child. Lucie drew closer to her mother. “Do I say, ‘Yes,’ Mama?” “Yes, dearest.” “Yes, Citizen,” repeated the child mechanically. “See my saw, little Citizeness? I call him ‘little guillotine.’ La-la-la, la-la-la, and off goes his head! Loo-loo-100, and off goes his head! And now the child— tickle-tickle-pickle-pickle, and off goes its head! All the family.” Lucie drew her daughter closer, suddered and hurried on, the woodcutter’s cackling laughter pursuing her In a nearby street, she found herself caught between two crowds of singing, shouting, dancing citizens. Alarmed, Lucie drew the child close to her and strove to break away from the mob, but she was caught in it, swept along with it. . . . It was that very day that Dr Manette succeeded in reaching the Defarges in the Rue Antoine wineshop. “At last I find you, good friends.” Defarge kissed his hand. Madame Defarge bowed calmly. After the short greeting's, Dr Manette broached the matter upon which he had sought them out. “As you befriended me once, so I come to you again. My son-in-law, Charles Darnay—” Madame Defarge interrupted, unimpassionedly “Your son-in-law, the new Marquis St. Evremonde.” “He prefers to be Charles Darnay. It was only by a miracle that I was able to save him at the massacre at La Force.” “Miracles do not happen twice, Doctor,” observed Madame Defarge. “It is of that I am afraid. Therefore, I appeal to you to help me get a speedy trial.” “I shall do all I can to see that the new Marquis St. Evremonde gets a trial at once, Monsieur, and that it serves the ends of justice.” “Thank you, Citizeness Defarge. If you can help us further by testifying—” “I shall be happy, my good Doctor. to testify in your behalf.” “For the second time in my life, Citizenness, you earn my undying gratitude.” ... Charles Darnay’s trial was reached speedily through that appeal to the Defarges. A few days later, Darnay appeared before the Revolutionary Tribunal. The five judges wore feathered hats, but otherwise were clad as the rest of the people. They were armed, as were the men and