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“It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask you to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Change that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you do it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like this of mine!” “It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask you to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Change that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you do it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like this of mine!”
With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action, that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. The prisoner was like a young child in his hands. With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action, that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. The prisoner was like a young child in his hands.
“Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it never can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine.” “Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it never can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine.”
“Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand steady enough to write?” “Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand steady enough to write?”
“It was when you came in.” “It was when you came in.”
“Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!” “Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!”
Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him. Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him.
“Write exactly as I speak.” “Write exactly as I speak.”
“To whom do I address it?” “To whom do I address it?”
“To no one.” Carton still had his hand in his breast. “To no one.” Carton still had his hand in his breast.
“Do I date it?” “Do I date it?”
“No.” “No.”
The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him with his hand in his breast, looked down. The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him with his hand in his breast, looked down.
“‘If you remember,’“ said Carton, dictating, “‘the words that passed between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it. You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.’“ “‘If you remember,’“ said Carton, dictating, “‘the words that passed between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it. You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.’“
He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing upon something. He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing upon something.
“Have you written ‘forget them’?” Carton asked. “Have you written ‘forget them’?” Carton asked.
“I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?” “I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?”
“No; I am not armed.” “No; I am not armed.”
“What is it in your hand?” “What is it in your hand?”
“You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more.” He dictated again. “‘I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.’“ As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer’s face. “You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more.” He dictated again. “‘I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.’“ As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer’s face.
The pen dropped from Darnay’s fingers on the table, and he looked about him vacantly. The pen dropped from Darnay’s fingers on the table, and he looked about him vacantly.
“What vapour is that?” he asked. “What vapour is that?” he asked.
“Vapour?” “Vapour?”
“Something that crossed me?” “Something that crossed me?”
“I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen and finish. Hurry, hurry!” “I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen and finish. Hurry, hurry!”
As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton—his hand again in his breast—looked steadily at him. As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton—his hand again in his breast—looked steadily at him.

Original Text

Modern Text

“It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask you to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Change that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you do it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like this of mine!” “It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask you to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Change that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you do it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like this of mine!”
With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action, that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. The prisoner was like a young child in his hands. With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action, that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. The prisoner was like a young child in his hands.
“Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it never can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine.” “Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it never can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine.”
“Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand steady enough to write?” “Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand steady enough to write?”
“It was when you came in.” “It was when you came in.”
“Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!” “Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!”
Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him. Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him.
“Write exactly as I speak.” “Write exactly as I speak.”
“To whom do I address it?” “To whom do I address it?”
“To no one.” Carton still had his hand in his breast. “To no one.” Carton still had his hand in his breast.
“Do I date it?” “Do I date it?”
“No.” “No.”
The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him with his hand in his breast, looked down. The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him with his hand in his breast, looked down.
“‘If you remember,’“ said Carton, dictating, “‘the words that passed between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it. You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.’“ “‘If you remember,’“ said Carton, dictating, “‘the words that passed between us, long ago, you will readily comprehend this when you see it. You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.’“
He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing upon something. He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing upon something.
“Have you written ‘forget them’?” Carton asked. “Have you written ‘forget them’?” Carton asked.
“I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?” “I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?”
“No; I am not armed.” “No; I am not armed.”
“What is it in your hand?” “What is it in your hand?”
“You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more.” He dictated again. “‘I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.’“ As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer’s face. “You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more.” He dictated again. “‘I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.’“ As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer’s face.
The pen dropped from Darnay’s fingers on the table, and he looked about him vacantly. The pen dropped from Darnay’s fingers on the table, and he looked about him vacantly.
“What vapour is that?” he asked. “What vapour is that?” he asked.
“Vapour?” “Vapour?”
“Something that crossed me?” “Something that crossed me?”
“I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen and finish. Hurry, hurry!” “I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen and finish. Hurry, hurry!”
As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton—his hand again in his breast—looked steadily at him. As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton—his hand again in his breast—looked steadily at him.
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