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ead and at peace； and yet there was no difference in him。 Another pause of oblivion； and he awoke in the sombre morning； unconscious where he was or what had happened； until it flashed upon his mind； ‘this is the day of my death'
Thus； had he e through the hours； to the day when the fifty…two heads were to fall。 And now； while he was posed； and hoped that he could meet the end with quiet heroism； a new action began in his waking thoughts； which was very difficult to master。
He had never seen the instrument that was to terminate his life。 How high it was from the ground； how many steps it had； where he would be stood； how he would be touched； whether the touching hands would be dyed red； which way his face would be turned； whether he would be the first； or might be the last： these and many similar questions； in no wise directed by his will； obtruded themselves over and over again； countless times。 Neither were they connected with fear： he was conscious of no fear。 Rather； they originated in a strange besetting desire to know what to do when the time came； a desire gigantically disproportionate to the few swift moments to which it referred； a wondering that was more like the wondering of some other spirit within his； than his own。
The hours went on as lie walked to and fro； and the clocks struck the numbers he would never hear again。 Nine cone for ever； ten gone for ever； eleven gone for ever； twelve ing on to pass away。 After a hard contest with that eccentric action of thought which had last perplexed him； he had got the better of it。 He walked up and down； softly repeating their names to himself。 The worst of the strife was over。 He could walk up and down； free from distracting fancies； praying for himself and for them。
Twelve gone for ever。
He had been apprised that the final hour was Three； and he knew he would be summoned some time earlier； inasmuch as the tumbrils jolted heavily and slowly through the streets。 Therefore； he resolved to keep Two before his mind； as the hour； and so to strengthen himself in the interval that he might be able； after that time； to strengthen others。
Walking regularly to and fro with his arms folded on his breast； a very different man from the prisoner； who had walked to and fro at La Force； he heard One struck away from him； without surprise。 The hour had measured like most other hours。 Devoutly thankful to Heaven for his recovered self…possession； he thought； ‘There is but another now；' and turned to walk again。
Footsteps in the stone passage outside the door。 He stopped。
The key was put in the lock； and turned。 Before the door was opened； or as it opened； a man said in a low voice； in English： ‘He has never seen me here； I have kept out of his way。 Go you in alone； I wait near。 Lose no time！'
The door was quickly opened and closed； and there stood before him face to face； quiet； intent upon him； with the light of a smile on his features； and a cautionary finger on his lip； Sydney Carton。
There was something so bright and remarkable in his look； that； for the first moment； the prisoner misdoubted him to be an apparition of his own imagining。 But； he spoke； and it was his voice； he took the prisoner's hand； and it was his real grasp。
‘Of all the people upon earth； you least expected to see me？' he said。
‘I could not believe it to be you。 I can scarcely believe it now。 You are not'……the apprehension came suddenly into his mind……‘a prisoner？'
‘No。 I am accidentally possessed of a power over one of the keepers here； and in virtue of it I stand before you。 I e from her……your wife； dear Darnay。'
The prisoner wrung his hand。
‘I bring you a request from her。'
‘What is it？'
‘A most earnest； pressing； and emphatic entreaty； addressed to you in the most pathetic tones of the voice so dear to you； that you well remember。'
The prisoner turned his face partly aside。
‘You have no time to ask me why I bring it； or what it means； I have no time to tell you。 You must ply with it……take off those boots you wear； and draw on these of mine。'
There was a chair against the wall of the cell； behind the prisoner。 Carton； pressing forward； had already； with the speed of lightning； got him down into it； and stood over him； barefoot。
‘Draw on these boots of mine。 Put your hands to them； put your will to them。 Quick！'
‘Carton； there is no escaping from this place； it never can be done。 You will only die with me。 It is madness。'
‘It would be madness if I asked you to escape； but do I？
When I ask you to pass out at that door； tell me it is madness and remain here。 Change that cravat for this of mine； that coat for this of mine。 While you do it； let me take this ribbon from your hair； and shake out your hair like this of mine！'
With wonderful quickness； and with a strength both of will and action； that appeared quite supernatural； he forced all these changes upon him。 The prisoner was like a young child in his hands。
‘Carton！ Dear Carton！ It is madness。 It cannot be acplished； it never can be done； it has been attempted； and has always failed。 I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine。
‘Do I ask you； my dear Darnay； to pass the door？ When I ask that； refuse。 There are pen and ink and paper on this table。 Is your hand steady enough to write？'
‘It was when you came in。
‘Steady it again； and write what I shall dictate。 Quick； friend； quick！'
Pressing his hand to his bewildered head； Darnay sat down at the table。 Carton； with his right hand in his breast； stood close beside him。
‘Write exactly as I speak。'
‘To whom do I address it？'
‘To no one。' Carton still had his hand in his breast。
‘Do I date it？'
‘No。'
The prisoner looked up； at each question。 Carton； standing over him with his hand in his breast； looked down。
‘‘‘If you remember；''' said Carton； dictating； ‘‘‘the words that passed between us； long ago； you will readily prehend this when you see it。 You do remember them； I know。 It is not in your nature to forget them。'''
He was drawing his hand from his breast； the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote； the hand stopped； closing upon something。
‘Have you written ‘‘forget them！'' Carton asked。
‘I have。 Is that a weapon in your hand？'
‘No； I am not armed。'
‘What is it in your hand？'
‘You shall know directly。 Write on； there are but a few words more。' He dictated again。 ‘‘‘I am thankful that the time has e； when I can prove them。 That I do so is no subject for regret or grief。''' As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer； his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer's face。
The pen dropped from Darnay's fingers on the table； and he looked about him vacantly。
‘What vapour is that？' he asked。
‘Vapour？'
‘Something that crossed me？'
‘I am conscious of nothing； there can be nothing here。 Take up the pen and finish。 Hurry； hurry！'
As if his memory were impaired； or his faculties disordered； the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention。 As he looked at Carton with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing； Carton……his hand again in his breast……looked steadily at him。
‘Hurry； hurry ！‘
The prisoner bent over the paper； once more。
‘‘‘If it had been otherwise；''' Carton's hand was again watchfully and softly stealing down； ‘‘‘I never should have used the longer opportunity。 If it had been otherwise；''' the hand was at the prisoner's face； ‘‘‘I should but have had so much the more to answer for。 If it had been otherwise………''' Carton looked at the pen and saw it was trailing off into unintelligible signs。
Carton's hand moved back to his breast no more。 The prisoner sprang up with a reproachful look； but Carton's hand was close and firm at his nostrils； and Carton's left arm caught him round the waist。 For a few seconds he faintly struggled with the man who had e to lay down his life for him； but； within a minute or so； he was stretched insensible on the ground。
Quickly； but with hands as true to the purpose as his heart was； Carton dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside； bed back his hair； and tied it with the ribbon the prisoner had worn。 Then； he softly called； ‘Enter there！ e in！' and the Spy presented himself。
‘You see？' said Carton； looking up； as he kneeled on one knee besid