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Defarge had described himself, that day, as the keeper of a

wine-shop in the Saint Antoine suburb. It was not difficult for

one who knew the city well, to find his house without asking any

question. Having ascertained its situation, Carton came out of

those closer streets again, and dined at a place of refreshment

and fell sound asleep after dinner. For the first time in many

years, he had no strong drink. Since last night he had taken

nothing but a little light thin wine, and last night he had

dropped the brandy slowly down on Mr. Lorry's hearth like a man

who had done with it.

It was as late as seven o'clock when he awoke refreshed, and went

out into the streets again. As he passed along towards Saint

Antoine, he stopped at a shop-window where there was a mirror,

and slightly altered the disordered arrangement of his loose

cravat, and his coat-collar, and his wild hair. This done, he

went on direct to Defarge's, and went in.