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"You deceive yourself, monsieur," returned the keeper of the

wine-shop. "You mistake me for another. That is not my name. I am

Ernest Defarge."

"It is all the same," said the spy, airily, but discomfited too:

"good day!"

"Good day!" answered Defarge, drily.

"I was saying to madame, with whom I had the pleasure of chatting

when you entered, that they tell me there is--and no

wonder!--much sympathy and anger in Saint Antoine, touching the

unhappy fate of poor Gaspard."

"No one has told me so," said Defarge, shaking his head. "I know

nothing of it."

Having said it, he passed behind the little counter, and stood

with his hand on the back of his wife's chair, looking over that

barrier at the person to whom they were both opposed, and whom

either of them would have shot with the greatest satisfaction.