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作者: Charles Dickens

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As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a centre point, so, all this
raging circled round Defarge's wine-shop, and every human drop in
the caldron had a tendency to be sucked towards the vortex where
Defarge himself, already begrimed with gunpowder and sweat,
issued orders, issued arms, thrust this man back, dragged this
man forward, disarmed one to arm another, laboured and strove in
the thickest of the uproar.
"Keep near to me, Jacques Three," cried Defarge; "and do you,
Jacques One and Two, separate and put yourselves at the head of
as many of these patriots as you can. Where is my wife?"
"Eh, well! Here you see me!" said madame, composed as ever, but
not knitting to-day. Madame's resolute right hand was occupied
with an axe, in place of the usual softer implements, and in her
girdle were a pistol and a cruel knife.
"Where do you go, my wife?"
"I go," said madame, "with you at present. You shall see me at
the head of women, by-and-bye."

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