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Madame Defarge sat observing it, with such suppressed approval as

was to be desired in the leader of the Saint Antoine women. One

of her sisterhood knitted beside her. The short, rather plump

wife of a starved grocer, and the mother of two children withal,

this lieutenant had already earned the complimentary name of The

Vengeance.

"Hark!" said The Vengeance. "Listen, then! Who comes?"

As if a train of powder laid from the outermost bound of Saint

Antoine Quarter to the wine-shop door, had been suddenly fired, a

fast-spreading murmur came rushing along.

"It is Defarge," said madame. "Silence, patriots!"

Defarge came in breathless, pulled off a red cap he wore, and

looked around him! "Listen, everywhere!" said madame again.

"Listen to him!" Defarge stood, panting, against a background of

eager eyes and open mouths, formed outside the door; all those

within the wine-shop had sprung to their feet.

"Say then, my husband. What is it?"

"News from the other world!"