Chapter-15
That night, Charles sat up late writing two letters—one to Lucie and one to her father, explaining the reasons for his journey. By the time the letters were read the following morning, Charles had gone.
The trip to Paris would have been difficult in the best of times. During the French Revolution, however, special dangers lurked. At every village, Charles met citizen-patriots, their muskets raised as they demanded identification papers and checked names against their own lists. It was only by paying for the protection of armed patriots that he finally reached the gates of Paris.
“Where are this prisoner’s papers?” a revolutionary guard demanded.
Charles started at the term ‘prisoner’, but produced his papers and Gabelle’s letter. Moments later, he was led into a guard-room filled with soldiers and citizens, all wearing the red caps and red, white, and blue feathers of the Revolution.
“Citizen Defarge,” said an officer to the guard, “is this the emigrant Evremonde?”
“Yes.”
Turning to Charles, the officer announced, “Evremonde, you have been sentenced to the prison of La Force!”
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Charles. “Why?”
“We have new laws and new crimes since you left France.”
“But I have returned to France of my own free will, in answer to a letter from a fellow Frenchman—a letter that you have just read. Do I not have a right to do that?”
“Emigrants have no rights. Now follow Citizen Defarge!”
Once they were outside, Defarge whispered, “Aren’t you the man who married the daughter of Dr. Alexandre Manette, once a prisoner in the Bastille?”
“Yes,” answered Charles with surprise.
“My name is Ernest Defarge, and I have a wine shop in Saint Antoine. Maybe you have heard of me from some of your relative.”
“Yes! My wife came to your shop to be reunited with her father! “
“Why on earth did you come back to France?” asked Defarge.
“You heard me tell your officer why I am here. Don’t you believe me?”
“It’s not important whether I do or not.”
“Then, please answer just one question for me—will I be left to rot unjustly in the prison without being able to communicate with the outside world?”
“Who knows? Many other people have been put in prison unjustly too.”
“But please, Citizen Defarge, it is of the greatest importance that I tell Mr. Lorry of Tellson’s Bank, an English gentleman who is now in Paris, that I have been thrown into La Force. Can you arrange for that message to be delivered?”
“I will do nothing for you, Evremonde!” snapped Defarge, “You are my enemy.”
Having listened to the words Charles Darnay felt hopeless. He thought it was useless to talk to Defarge at that point of time. Both of them walked through a dark and dirty street. All of a sudden, Charles overhead a man tell another man that the king and the royal family had back put behind bars. Moreover, he had no idea that the new machine called La Guillotine—was busy at work. The machine would slice off the heads of men, women and children alike. As they reached the prison, the jailer said, “who are you?” thereupon Defarge replied, “The emigrant Evermonde.”
Hearing the words the jailer got offended and retorted how many of them there were. The cell was packed to capacity.