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作者: Charles Dickens

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"Peace, little Vengeance," said Madame Defarge, laying her hand
with a slight frown on her lieutenant's lips, "hear me speak. My
husband, fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man; he
has deserved well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence.
But my husband has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent
towards this Doctor."
"It is a great pity," croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking
his head, with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; "it is not
quite like a good citizen; it is a thing to regret."
"See you," said madame, "I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He
may wear his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it
is all one to me. But, the Evremonde people are to be
exterminated, and the wife and child must follow the husband and
father."
"She has a fine head for it," croaked Jacques Three. "I have seen
blue eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when
Samson held them up." Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure.

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