Good evening.

It was as late as seven o'clock when he awoke refreshed, and went out into the streets again. As he passed along towards Saint Antoine, he stopped at a shop-window where there was a mirror, and slightly altered the disordered arrangement of his loose cravat, and his coat-collar, and his wild hair. This done, he went on direct to Defarge's, and went in. There happened to be no customer in the shop but Jacques Three, of the restless fingers and the croaking voice. This man, whom he had seen upon the Jury, stood drinking at the little counter, in conversation with the Defarges, man and wife. The Vengeance assisted in the conversation, like a regular member of the establishment. As Carton walked in, took his seat and asked (in very indifferent French) for a small measure of wine, Madame Defarge cast a careless glance at him, and then a keener, and then a keener, and then advanced to him herself, and asked him what it was he had ordered. He repeated what he had already said. `English?' asked Madame Defarge, inquisitively raising her dark eyebrows. After looking at her, as if the sound of even a single French word were slow to express itself to him, he answered, in his former strong foreign accent, `Yes, madame, yes. I am English!' Madame Defarge returned to her counter to get the wine, and, as he took up a Jacobin journal and feigned to pore over it puzzling out its meaning, he heard her say, `I swear to you, like Evrémonde!' Defarge brought him the wine, and gave him Good Evening. `How?' `Good evening.' `Oh! Good evening, citizen,' filling his glass. `Ah! and good wine. I drink to the Republic.' Defarge went back to the counter, and said, `Certainly, a little like.' Madame sternly retorted, `I tell you a good deal like.' Jacques Three pacifically remarked, `He is so much in your mind, see you, madame.' The amiable Vengeance added, with a laugh, `Yes, my faith! And you are looking forward with so much pleasure to seeing him once more to-morrow!' Carton followed the lines and words of his paper, with a slow forefinger, and with a studious and absorbed face. They were all leaning their arms on the counter close together, speaking low. After a silence of a few moments, during which they all looked towards him without disturbing his outward attention from the Jacobin editor, they resumed their conversation. `It is true what madame says,' observed Jacques Three. `Why stop? There is great force in that. Why stop?' `Well, well,' reasoned Defarge, `but one must stop somewhere. After all, the question is still where?' `At extermination,' said madame. `Magnificent!' croaked Jacques Three. The Vengeance, also, highly approved. `Extermination is good doctrine, my wife,' said Defarge, rather troubled; `in general, I say nothing against it. But this Doctor has suffered much; you have seen him to-day; you have observed his face when the paper was read.' `I have observed his face!' repeated madame, contemptuously and angrily. `Yes. I have observed his face. I have observed his face to be not the face of a true friend of the Republic. Let him take care of his face!' `And you have observed, my wife,' said Defarge, in a deprecatory manner, `the anguish of his daughter, which must be a dreadful anguish to him!' `I have observed his daughter,' repeated madame; `yes, I have observed his daughter, more times than one. I have observed her to-day, and I have observed her other days. I have observed her in the court, and I have observed her in the street by the prison. Let me but lift my finger---!' She seemed to raise it (the listener's eyes were always on his paper), and to let it fall with a rattle on the ledge before her, as if the axe had dropped.