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Автор: Charles Dickens

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"I will go," said Doctor Manette, "to the Prosecutor and the
President straight, and I will go to others whom it is better not
to name. I will write too, and--But stay! There is a Celebration
in the streets, and no one will be accessible until dark."
"That's true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not
much the forlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to
know how you speed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you
likely to have seen these dread powers, Doctor Manette?"
"Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two
from this."
"It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two.
If I go to Mr. Lorry's at nine, shall I hear what you have done,
either from our friend or from yourself?"
"Yes."
"May you prosper!"
Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on
the shoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn.
"I have no hope," said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper.
"Nor have I."

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