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Madame Defarge knitted steadily, but the intelligence had a

palpable effect upon her husband. Do what he would, behind the

little counter, as to the striking of a light and the lighting of

his pipe, he was troubled, and his hand was not trustworthy. The

spy would have been no spy if he had failed to see it, or to

record it in his mind.

Having made, at least, this one hit, whatever it might prove to

be worth, and no customers coming in to help him to any other,

Mr. Barsad paid for what he had drunk, and took his leave: taking

occasion to say, in a genteel manner, before he departed, that he

looked forward to the pleasure of seeing Monsieur and Madame

Defarge again. For some minutes after he had emerged into the

outer presence of Saint Antoine, the husband and wife remained

exactly as he had left them, lest he should come back.