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Madame Defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something

of Miss Pross's own perception that they two were at bay. She saw

a tight, hard, wiry woman before her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in

the same figure a woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by.

She knew full well that Miss Pross was the family's devoted

friend; Miss Pross knew full well that Madame Defarge was the

family's malevolent enemy.

"On my way yonder," said Madame Defarge, with a slight movement

of her hand towards the fatal spot, "where they reserve my chair

and my knitting for me, I am come to make my compliments to her

in passing. I wish to see her."

"I know that your intentions are evil," said Miss Pross, "and you

may depend upon it, I'll hold my own against them."

Each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other's

words; both were very watchful, and intent to deduce from look

and manner, what the unintelligible words meant.