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Pagina 389 de 896

Autor: Charles Dickens

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"As they descend the hill like madmen running a race, he falls.
They laugh and pick him up again. His face is bleeding and
covered with dust, but he cannot touch it; thereupon they laugh
again. They bring him into the village; all the village runs to
look; they take him past the mill, and up to the prison; all the
village sees the prison gate open in the darkness of the night,
and swallow him--like this!"
He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and shut it with a
sounding snap of his teeth. Observant of his unwillingness to mar
the effect by opening it again, Defarge said, "Go on, Jacques."

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