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【SCF-047】御奉仕メイド40人8時間

Source global Wall Street Journal     time 2020-02-22 11:45:48
Typefacelarge in Small

【SCF-047】御奉仕メイド40人8時間 �


JacquesThree,withhisusualcravingonhim,andevidentlydisappointedbythedialoguetakingaturnthatdidnotseemtopromisebloodshed,heldbyDefarge'sarmasheheldbytheturnkey's.Theirthreeheadshadbeenclosetogetherduringthisbriefdiscourse,andithadbeenasmuchastheycoulddotohearoneanother,eventhen:sotremendouswasthenoiseofthelivingocean,initsirruptionintotheFortress,anditsinundationofthecourtsandpassagesandstaircases.Allaroundoutside,too,itbeatthewallswithadeep,hoarseroar,fromwhich,occasionally,somepartialshoutsoftumultbrokeandleapedintotheairlikespray.

Deepditches,doubledrawbridge,massivestonewalls,eightgreattowers,cannon,muskets,fireandsmoke.Throughthefireandthroughthesmoke--inthefireandinthesmoke,fortheseacasthimupagainstacannon,andontheinstanthebecameacannonier--Defargeofthewine-shopworkedlikeamanfulsoldier,Twofiercehours.

`No;Iamgoingtoplaybackgammonwithyou,ifyoulike,'saidtheDoctor.

Down,andup,andheadforemostonthestepsofthebuilding;now,onhisknees;now,onhisfeet;now,onhisback;dragged,andstruckat,andstifledbythebunchesofgrassandstrawthatwerethrustintohisfacebyhundredsofhands;torn,bruised,panting,bleeding,yetalwaysentreatingandbeseechingformercy;nowfullofvehementagonyofaction,withasmallclearspaceabouthimasthepeopledrewoneanotherbackthattheymightsee;now,alogofdeadwooddrawnthroughaforestoflegs;hewashauledtotheneareststreetcornerwhereoneofthefatallampsswung,andthereMadameDefargelethimgo--asacatmighthavedonetoamouse--andsilentlyandcomposedlylookedathimwhiletheymadeready,andwhilehebesoughther:thewomenpassionatelyscreechingathimallthetime,andthemensternlycallingouttohavehimkilledwithgrassinhismouth.Once,hewentaloft,andtheropebroke,andtheycaughthimshrieking;twice,hewentaloft,andtheropebroke,andtheycaughthimshrieking;then,theropewasmerciful,andheldhim,andhisheadwassoonuponapike,withgrassenoughinthemouthforallSaintAntoinetodanceatthesightof.Norwasthistheendoftheday'sbadwork,forSaintAntoinesoshoutedanddancedhisangrybloodup,thatitboiledagain,onhearingwhenthedayclosedinthattheson-in-lawofthedespatched,anotherofthepeople'senemiesandinsulters,wascomingintoParisunderguardfivehundredstrong,incavalryalone.SaintAntoinewrotehiscrimesonflaringsheetsofpaper,seizedhim--wouldhavetornhimoutofthebreastofanarmytobearFouloncompany--sethisheadandheartonpikes,andcarriedthethreespoilsoftheday,inWolf-procession,throughthestreets.

`TheRecords!'

But,thiswasnotthechangeonthevillage,andonmanyavillagelikeit.Forscoresofyearsgoneby,Monseigneurhadsqueezeditandwrungit,andhadseldomgraceditwithhispresenceexceptforthepleasuresofthechase--now,foundinhuntingthepeople;now,foundinhuntingthebeasts,forwhosepreservationMonseigneurmadeedifyingspacesofbarbarousandbarrenwilderness.No.Thechangeconsistedintheappearanceofstrangefacesoflowcaste,ratherthaninthedisappearanceofthehigh-caste,chiseled,andotherwisebeatifiedandbeatifyingfeaturesofMonseigneur.

`Keepneartome,JacquesThree,'criedDefarge;`anddoyou,JacquesOneandTwo,separateandputyourselvesattheheadofasmanyofthesepatriotsasyoucan.Whereismywife?'

Nevertheless,notamomentwaslost;notamoment!ThisFoulonwasattheH?teldeVille,andmightbeloosed.Never,ifSaintAntoineknewhisownsufferings,insults,andwrongs!ArmedmenandwomenflockedoutoftheQuartersofast,anddreweventheselastdregsafterthemwithsuchaforceofsuction,thatwithinaquarterofanhourtherewasnotahumancreatureinSaintAntoine'sbosombutafewoldcronesandthewailingchildren.

`WhatisthemeaningofOneHundredandFive,NorthTower?'askedDefarge.`Quick!'


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