صفحة 862 من 896

Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe.

Carelessly worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain

weird way, and her dark hair looked rich under her coarse red

cap. Lying hidden in her bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden

at her waist, was a sharpened dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking

with the confident tread of such a character, and with the supple

freedom of a woman who had habitually walked in her girlhood,

bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown sea-sand, Madame Defarge

took her way along the streets.