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When a name was called, its owner stepped apart into a spot

reserved for those who were announced as being thus fatally

recorded. Charles Evremonde, called Darnay, had reason to know

the usage; he had seen hundreds pass away so.

His bloated gaoler, who wore spectacles to read with, glanced

over them to assure himself that he had taken his place, and went

through the list, making a similar short pause at each name.

There were twenty-three names, but only twenty were responded to;

for one of the prisoners so summoned had died in gaol and been

forgotten, and two had already been guillotined and forgotten.

The list was read, in the vaulted chamber where Darnay had seen

the associated prisoners on the night of his arrival. Every one

of those had perished in the massacre; every human creature he

had since cared for and parted with, had died on the scaffold.