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"It is enough, my husband," said Madame Defarge. "I have seen

them. We may go."

But, the suppressed manner had enough of menace in it--not

visible and presented, but indistinct and withheld--to alarm

Lucie into saying, as she laid her appealing hand on Madame

Defarge's dress:

"You will be good to my poor husband. You will do him no harm.

You will help me to see him if you can?"

"Your husband is not my business here," returned Madame Defarge,

looking down at her with perfect composure. "It is the daughter

of your father who is my business here."

"For my sake, then, be merciful to my husband. For my child's

sake! She will put her hands together and pray you to be

merciful. We are more afraid of you than of these others."

Madame Defarge received it as a compliment, and looked at her

husband. Defarge, who had been uneasily biting his thumb-nail and

looking at her, collected his face into a sterner expression.