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As the grinning little man held out the pipe he was smoking, to

explain how he timed the executioner, Carton was so sensible of a

rising desire to strike the life out of him, that he turned away.

"But you are not English," said the wood-sawyer, "though you wear

English dress?"

"Yes," said Carton, pausing again, and answering over his

shoulder.

"You speak like a Frenchman."

"I am an old student here."

"Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good night, Englishman."

"Good night, citizen."

"But go and see that droll dog," the little man persisted,

calling after him. "And take a pipe with you!"