Book the Third - The Track of a Storm
9. IX. The Game Made
(continued)
Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back, and it was easy to
surmise where the good old man was gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing
but a little coffee, ate some bread, and, having washed and changed
to refresh himself, went out to the place of trial.
The court was all astir and a-buzz, when the black sheep--whom many
fell away from in dread--pressed him into an obscure corner among the
crowd. Mr. Lorry was there, and Doctor Manette was there. She was
there, sitting beside her father.
When her husband was brought in, she turned a look upon him, so
sustaining, so encouraging, so full of admiring love and pitying
tenderness, yet so courageous for his sake, that it called the
healthy blood into his face, brightened his glance, and animated his
heart. If there had been any eyes to notice the influence of her
look, on Sydney Carton, it would have been seen to be the same
influence exactly.
Before that unjust Tribunal, there was little or no order of
procedure, ensuring to any accused person any reasonable hearing.
There could have been no such Revolution, if all laws, forms, and
ceremonies, had not first been so monstrously abused, that the
suicidal vengeance of the Revolution was to scatter them all to the
winds.
Every eye was turned to the jury. The same determined patriots and
good republicans as yesterday and the day before, and to-morrow and
the day after. Eager and prominent among them, one man with a
craving face, and his fingers perpetually hovering about his lips,
whose appearance gave great satisfaction to the spectators. A life-thirsting, cannibal-looking, bloody-minded juryman, the Jacques Three
of St. Antoine. The whole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try
the deer.
Every eye then turned to the five judges and the public prosecutor.
No favourable leaning in that quarter to-day. A fell, uncompromising,
murderous business-meaning there. Every eye then sought some other
eye in the crowd, and gleamed at it approvingly; and heads nodded at
one another, before bending forward with a strained attention.
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