6 Stormy years in France 
　  
　　In Monsieur Defarge's wine－shop in Saint Antoine customers came and went all the time. They came to drink the thin, rough wine, but more often they came to listen and to talk, and to wait for news. 
　　One day there were more customers than usual. Defarge had been away for three days, and when he returned that morning, he brought a stranger with him, a man who repaired roads. 
　　'Madame, ' Defarge said to his wife, 'this man, who is called Jacques, has walked a long way with me.' One customer got up and went out.'This mender of roads, ' continued Defarge, 'who is called Jacques, is a good man. Give him something to drink.' A second man got up and went out. The man who repaired roads sat down and drank. A third man got up and went out. 
　　'Have you finished, my friend?' said Defarge.'Then come and see the room I promised you.' 
　　They went upstairs, to the room where Dr Manette had sat making shoes. The three men who had left the wine－shop were waiting. Defarge spoke to them. 
　　'No names. You are Jacques One, Jacques Two and Jacques Three. I am Jacques Four. This is Jacques Five. He brings us news of our poor friend Gaspard, whose child was killed by the Marquis's coach a year ago.' 
　　'I first saw Gaspard, ' said Jacques Five, 'holding on under the Marquis's coach as it drove into our village. He ran away, but that night the Marquis was murdered. Gaspard disappeared and was only caught a few weeks ago. The soldiers brought him into the village and hanged him. And they have left his body hanging in the village square, where the women go to fetch water, and our children play.' 
　　When Jacques Five had left them, Jacques One said to his friends, 'What do you say? Shall we put their names on the list?' 
　　'Yes, all of them. The castle and all of the family of Evrémonde.' 
　　'Is the list safe?' asked Jacques Two. 
　　'Yes, my friend, ' said Defarge.'My wife remembers everything. But more than that, every name is carefully knitted into her work. Nothing can be forgotten.' 
　　A few days later Defarge reported to his wife some news from his friend'Jacques' in the police. 
　　'A new spy has been sent to Saint Antoine. His name is Barsad, John Barsad. He's English.' 
　　'What does he look like? Do we know?' 
　　'He's about forty years old, quite tall, black hair, thin face, ' said Defarge. 
　　'Good, ' said his wife.'I'll put him on the list tomorrow. But you seem tired tonight. And sad.' 
　　　 
　　'Well, ' said Defarge, 'it is a long time.' 
　　'It takes time to prepare for change. The crimes against the people of France cannot be revenged in a day.' 
　　'But we may not live to see the end.' 
　　'Even if that happens, ' replied Madame Defarge, 'we shall help it to come. But I believe that we shall see the day of our revenge against these hated noblemen.' 
　　The next day a stranger came into the wine－shop. At once, Madame Defarge picked up a rose from the table and put it in her hair. As soon as they saw this, the customers stopped talking and, one by one, without hurrying, left the wine－shop. 
　　'Good day, Madame, ' said the stranger. 
　　'Good day, Monsieur, 'said Madame Defarge, but to herself she said, 'About forty years old, tall, black hair, thin face. Yes, I know who you are, Mr John Barsad.' 
　　'Is business good?' asked the stranger. 
　　'Business is bad, The people are so poor.' Madame Defarge looked over to the door.'Ah, here is my husband.' 
　　'Good day, Jacques, 'said the spy. 
　　'You're wrong, ' said Defarge, staring at him.'That's not my name. I am Ernest Defarge.' 
　　'It's all the same, ' said the spy easily.'I remember something about you, Monsieur Defarge. You took care of Dr Manette when he came out of the Bastille.' 
　　'That's true, ' said Defarge. 
　　'Have you heard much from Dr Manette and his daughter? They're in England now.' 
　　'No, not for a long time.' 
　　She was married recently. Not to an Englishman, but to a Frenchman. It's quite interesting when you remember poor Gaspard. Miss Manette has married the nephew of the Marquis that Gaspard killed. Her new husband is really the new Marquis, but he prefers to live unknown in England. He's not a Marquis there, just Mr Charles Darnay.' 
　　Monsieur Defarge was not happy at this news. When the spy had gone, he said to his wife, 'Can it be true? If it is, I hope that Miss Manette keeps her husband away from France.' 
　　'Who knows what will happen?' replied Madame Defarge. 'I only know that the name of Evrémonde is in my list, and for good reason.' She went on calmly knitting, adding name after name to her list of the enemies of the people. 
　　Time passed, and Madame Defarge still knitted. The women of Saint Antoine also knitted, and the thin hungry faces of Jacques and his brothers became darker and angrier. The noise of the coming storm in Paris was growing louder. 
　　It began one summer day in the streets of Saint Antoine, around Defarge's wine－shop, with a great crowd of people. A crowd who carried guns, knives, sticks, even stones－anything that could be a weapon. An angry crowd who shouted and screamed, who were ready to fight and to die in battle. 
　　'Friends and citizens！'shouted Defarge.'We are ready！To the Bastille！'The crowd began to move, like the waves of the sea. 
　　'Follow me, women！'cried Madame Defarge. A long sharp knife shone brightly in her hand.'We can kill as well as any man！' 
　　The living sea of angry people ran through Saint Antoine to the Bastille, and soon the hated prison was ringing with the noise of battle. Fire and smoke climbed up the high stone walls and the thunder of the guns echoed through the city. 
　　Four terrible and violent hours. Then a white flag appeared above the walls and the gates were opened. The Bastille had been taken by the people of Paris！Soon the crowds were inside the building itself, and shouting'Free the prisoners！'But Defarge put his strong hand on the shoulder of one of the soldiers. 
　　'Show me the North Tower. Take me to One Hundred and Five, North Tower！Quickly！' 
　　'Follow me' said the frightened man, and Defarge and Jacques Three went with him through the dark prison, past heavy closed doors, up stone stairs, until they came to a low door. It was a small room, with dark stone walls and only one very small window, too high for anyone to look out. Defarge looked carefully along the walls. 
　　'There, look there, Jacques Three, ' he cried. 
　　'A.M.！'whispered Jacques. 
　　'A.M. Alexandre Manette, ' said Defarge softly.'Let us go now.' But before they left, they searched the room and the furniture very carefully, looking for small hiding－places. 
　　Then they returned to the crowds below. The Bastille and its officers were now in the hands of the people, and the people wanted revenge, and blood. 
　　'At last, it has begun, my dear, ' said Defarge to his wife. It was the fourteenth of July, 1789. 
　　In the village where the Marquis had lived, and where Gaspard had died, life was hard. Everything was old and tired and broken down－the people, the land, the houses, the animals. In the past everything and everybody had had to work for the Marquis, and he had given nothing in return. 
　　But now, strangers were travelling about the country, strangers who were poor, like the people, but who talked about new ideas—ideas which had started in Paris and were now running like fire across the country. 
　　The road－mender, who had brought the news of Gaspard to Paris, still worked repairing the roads. One day a stranger came to him as he worked on the road outside the village. 
　　'Jacques, ' said the stranger. He shook the road－mender's hand, and turned to look at the Marquis's castle on the hill. 
　　'It's tonight, Jacques, ' he went on quietly.'The others will meet me here.' 
　　　 
　　It was very dark that night and the wind was strong. No one saw the four men who came quietly to the castle and said nothing. But soon the castle itself could be seen in the dark sky. The windows became bright；smoke and yellow flames climbed into the sky. Monsieur Gabelle called loudly for help, but the people in the village watched and did nothing to save the castle where the Marquis had lived. 
　 
6 法国的暴风雨年代 
　  
　　在圣安东尼得法热先生的酒店里，顾客们来来往往络绎不绝。他们来这儿喝点清淡的粗制葡萄酒，但他们更多的是来这儿聆听和交谈的，还有等候消息的。 
　　一天，店里的顾客比平常要多。得法热已经出去3天了。当他那天早上回来时，他带回来了一个陌生人，一个修路工。 
　　“夫人，”得法热对他的妻子说。“这个人叫雅克，他已经和我一起走了很长一段路。”有一个顾客这时起身走了出去。“这个修路工，”得法热接着说，“叫雅克，是个好人。给他来点喝的吧。”第二个人起身走了出去。那个修路的人坐了下来喝酒。第三个人起身走了出去。 
　　“喝完了吗，我的朋友?”得法热说。“那就过来看看我答应给你的房间吧。” 
　　他们上了楼，来到马内特医生曾坐着做鞋子的房间。那三个刚才离开酒店的男人正在等着他们。得法热对他们说： 
　　“没有名字。你们是雅克一，雅克二和雅克三。我是雅克四，这是雅克五。他给我们带来了我们可怜的朋友加斯珀的消息，一年前他的孩子被侯爵的马车压死了。” 
　　“我第一次看到加斯珀，”雅克五说，“是在侯爵的马车进村时，他扒在车底下。他跑掉了，但是那天晚上侯爵就被暗杀了。加斯珀失踪了，几星期前才被抓到。士兵们把他带到村子里绞死了他，而且他们把他的尸体吊在了村里的场地上。那是妇女们打水以及我们的孩子们玩耍的地方。 
　　雅克五走后，雅克一对他的朋友们说：“你们有什么说的呢?我们是不是该把他们的名字列在名单上?” 
　　“是的，他们所有的名字。那个城堡里及所有埃弗蒙家族的人。” 
　　“名单安全吗?”雅克二问。 
　　“是的，我的朋友。”得法热说。“我老婆记得所有的事，不仅如此，每一个名字她都织到了毛线活儿里，绝不会被忘掉的。” 
　　几天后，得法热把一些从他在警察局里的雅克朋友那儿得到的消息告诉了他妻子。 
　　“一个新的间谍已被派到了圣安东尼，他叫巴萨德，约翰·巴萨德，是英国人。” 
　　“他长得什么样?我们知道吗?” 
　　“他大约40岁，个儿很高，黑头发，瘦脸庞。”得法热说。 
　　“好的，”他老婆说。“我明天就把他记入名单中。只是你今晚上好像累了，而且有些伤心。” 
　　　  
　　“唉，”得法热说，“时间太长了。” 
　　“准备变革就得花费时间。” 
　　“但我们也许不会活着看到结果了。” 
　　“即使是这样，”得法热夫人说，”“我们也要尽力让它到来。但是我相信我们会看到我们对那些可恨的贵族们复仇的那一天。” 
　　第二天一个陌生人来到了酒店。立刻，得法热夫人便从桌上拿起一支玫瑰花插在了头发上。顾客们一看到这个动作便立刻停止了交谈，并一个接着一个从容地离开了酒店。 
　　“你好，夫人。”陌生人说。 
　　“你好，先生。”得法热夫人说。但她心里说：“大约40多岁，高个儿，黑头发，瘦脸庞。对了，我知道你是谁，约翰·巴萨德先生。” 
　　“生意好吗?”陌生人问。 
　　“生意不好，人们太穷了。”得法热夫人抬起头看着门。“啊，这是我丈夫。” 
　　“你好，雅克。”间谍说道。 
　　“你错了，”得法热盯着他说。“那不是我的名字，我叫恩斯特·得法热。” 
　　“那都一样，”间谍随口说道。“我记得你的一些事，得法热先生。马内特医生从巴士底狱出来后是你照顾他的。” 
　　“是那样的。”得法热说。 
　　“你常有马内特医生和他女儿的消息吗?他们现在在英国。” 
　　“没有，很长时间都没有了。” 
　　“她最近结婚了。不是嫁给一个英国人，而是一个法国人。如果你联想起可怜的加斯珀，这件事真是有趣。马内特小姐嫁给了被加斯珀杀死的侯爵的侄子，她的新婚丈夫实际上是新的侯爵。可他宁愿不为人知地住在英国。他在那里可不是侯爵，而只不过是查尔斯·代尔那。” 
　　得法热先生听到这个消息后心里不高兴。在间谍走后，他对妻子说：“这会是真的吗?如果是，我希望马内特小姐让她的丈夫远离法国。” 
　　“谁知道会发生什么?”得法热夫人回答说，“我只知道埃弗蒙这个名字在我的名单上，而且有充分的理由。”她继续平静地织着毛线活儿，把一个又一个的名字织进人民公敌名单中。 
　　时间流逝着，得法热夫人仍旧在编织着。圣安东尼的妇女们也都在织着。雅克和他的兄弟们饥饿削瘦的脸变得越来越灰暗也越来越愤怒。巴黎即将到来的暴风雨的隆隆雷声已愈来愈响了。 
　　事情开始于夏季的一天，在圣安东尼得法热酒店四周的街道上聚集了大队的人群。他们拿着枪、刀、棍子，甚至石头，即一切可以作为武器的东西。他们狂呼怒吼着，准备着去战斗、战死也在所不惜。 
　　“朋友们、公民们！”得法热喊道，“我们做好了准备！向巴士底狱进军！”人群开始移动，像海浪般汹涌向前。 
　　“跟着我，妇女们！”得法热夫人说道。一把明晃晃的长尖刀在她手中挥舞着。“我们也能像任何男人一样去杀人！” 
　　愤怒的人海穿过圣安东尼冲向了巴士底狱。很快，这让人痛恨的监狱便响起了战斗的声音。烈火和浓烟窜上了高大的石头墙，雷鸣般的炮声在城市中回响。 
　　恐怖而暴烈的4个小时之后，城墙上出现了一面白旗，城门被打开了。巴士底狱已经被巴黎人民攻占了！很快人群便拥入其中，他们呐喊着“释放犯人！”但是得法热把他结实的手放在了一个士兵肩上。 
　　“指给我'北塔'，带我去北塔105！快！” 
　　“跟我来。”那个吓坏了的家伙说道。得法热和雅克三随他走过黑暗的监狱，路过了沉重紧锁的门，上了石头台阶，来到一个低矮的门前。这是一个狭小的房间，黑暗的石墙上只有一个很小的窗户，它很高，没人能够着它往外看。得法热顺着墙仔细地查看着。 
　　“这儿，看这儿，雅克三。”他嚷道。 
　　“A.M.！”雅克小声念道。 
　　“A.M.，亚历山大·马内特。”得法热轻声说。“我们现在走吧。”但在他们离开之前，他们细心地搜索了一遍房间和家具，寻找着细小的隐藏之处。 
　　然后他又返回到下面的人群中。巴士底狱及其官员们都在人民的手中了，他们要报仇雪恨，要以血还血。 
　　“最终，它总算开始了，亲爱的。”得法热对他的妻子说。这天是1789年的7月14日。 
　　在侯爵生活和加斯珀死去的那个村庄，生活很艰难。一切东西都是衰老、疲惫和残缺的，包括村民、土地、房屋、牲畜。过去，所有的人力和物力都得为侯爵效劳，而且得不到任何回报。 
　　但是现在，陌生的人们在全国巡游。这些陌生人像当地人一样穷，但是他们谈论着新思想——那些源于巴黎的思想现在正像烈火一样燃遍全国。 
　　那个把加斯珀的消息带到巴黎的修路人，仍旧在修着道路。一天，当他在村子外面的路上干着活儿时，一个陌生人朝他走来。 
　　“雅克，”那个陌生人说。他握着修路人的手，并转身看着山上侯爵的城堡。 
　　“就是今晚，雅克，”他接着平静地说道。“另外的人将要在这儿和我见面。” 
　　　  
　　那天晚上天很黑，而且风刮得很猛。没有人看见有4个人悄无声息地走向城堡。但是很快城堡就显露在黑暗的夜幕中。窗户明亮，烟雾和黄色的火焰直冲云天。加贝尔先生大声地喊着救命，但村子里的人们只是袖手旁观，没有采取任何行动去营救这座侯爵住过的城堡。 
　　　    


 