Book the Third - The Track of a Storm
1. I. In Secret
(continued)
He accompanied his conductor into a guard-room, smelling of common
wine and tobacco, where certain soldiers and patriots, asleep and
awake, drunk and sober, and in various neutral states between
sleeping and waking, drunkenness and sobriety, were standing and
lying about. The light in the guard-house, half derived from the
waning oil-lamps of the night, and half from the overcast day, was in
a correspondingly uncertain condition. Some registers were lying
open on a desk, and an officer of a coarse, dark aspect, presided
over these.
"Citizen Defarge," said he to Darnay's conductor, as he took a slip
of paper to write on. "Is this the emigrant Evremonde?"
"This is the man."
"Your age, Evremonde?"
"Thirty-seven."
"Married, Evremonde?"
"Yes."
"Where married?"
"In England."
"Without doubt. Where is your wife, Evremonde?"
"In England."
"Without doubt. You are consigned, Evremonde, to the prison of La Force."
"Just Heaven!" exclaimed Darnay. "Under what law, and for what offence?"
The officer looked up from his slip of paper for a moment.
"We have new laws, Evremonde, and new offences, since you were here."
He said it with a hard smile, and went on writing.
"I entreat you to observe that I have come here voluntarily, in response
to that written appeal of a fellow-countryman which lies before you.
I demand no more than the opportunity to do so without delay.
Is not that my right?"
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