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Автор: Charles Dickens

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The lady in question, whose rooted conviction that she was more
than a match for any foreigner, was not to be shaken by distress
and, danger, appeared with folded arms, and observed in English
to The Vengeance, whom her eyes first encountered, "Well, I am
sure, Boldface! I hope you are pretty well!" She also bestowed a
British cough on Madame Defarge; but, neither of the two took
much heed of her.
"Is that his child?" said Madame Defarge, stopping in her work
for the first time, and pointing her knitting-needle at little
Lucie as if it were the finger of Fate.
"Yes, madame," answered Mr. Lorry; "this is our poor prisoner's
darling daughter, and only child."
The shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party seemed to
fall so threatening and dark on the child, that her mother
instinctively kneeled on the ground beside her, and held her to
her breast. The shadow attendant on Madame Defarge and her party
seemed then to fall, threatening and dark, on both the mother and
the child.

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