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He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of which he had grown to be a part, like strong root-ivy. It chanced that they derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation of the main building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never calculated about that. All such circumstances were indifferent to him, so that he did his duty. On the opposite side of the courtyard, under a colonnade, was extensive standing—for carriages—where, indeed, some carriages of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of the pillars were fastened two great flaring flambeaux, and in the light of these, standing out in the open air, was a large grindstone: a roughly mounted thing which appeared to have hurriedly been brought there from some neighbouring smithy, or other workshop. Rising and looking out of window at these harmless objects, Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it, and he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame. He was so dedicated to Tellson’s that he stayed in rooms in the bank. It made members of the bank feel secure to know that patriots occupied the main building, but the honest Mr. Lorry didn’t think about that. He didn’t care about these circumstances, only that he did his job. On the other side of the courtyard, under a row of columns, there was a good deal of room for carriages. Some of the monseigneur’s carriages were still kept there. Against two of the pillars were fastened two large flaring torches, and in their light, standing out in the open, was a large


a stone used for sharpening

. It had been mounted there quickly and looked like it had been brought from some nearby blacksmith or other workshop. Mr. Lorry got up and looked out the window at these harmless objects. He shivered and went back to his seat by the fireplace. He had opened the window as well as the lattice blinds outside, and then closed them again. A chill passed through his body.
From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate, there came the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an indescribable ring in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted sounds of a terrible nature were going up to Heaven. The usual sounds of the city at night could be heard from the streets past the high wall and the strong gate. Now and then an indescribable ring sounded among the noise of the city. It sounded weird and otherworldly, as if some unusual, terrible sounds were traveling up to Heaven.
“Thank God,” said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands, “that no one near and dear to me is in this dreadful town to-night. May He have mercy on all who are in danger!” “Thank God that no one that I care deeply about is in this awful city tonight,” said Mr. Lorry, clasping his hands. “May God have mercy on all those who are in danger!”
Soon afterwards, the bell at the great gate sounded, and he thought, “They have come back!” and sat listening. But, there was no loud irruption into the courtyard, as he had expected, and he heard the gate clash again, and all was quiet. Soon afterward, the bell at the gate rang, and he thought, “They’ve come back!” He sat there, listening, but there was no loud noise of someone coming into the courtyard as he had expected. The gate clanged again, and then everything was quiet.
The nervousness and dread that were upon him inspired that vague uneasiness respecting the Bank, which a great change would naturally awaken, with such feelings roused. It was well guarded, and he got up to go among the trusty people who were watching it, when his door suddenly opened, and two figures rushed in, at sight of which he fell back in amazement. He felt nervous and fearful, and it made him worry about the security of the bank. It was well guarded, and he got up to move closer to the trusty people who were watching over it. Suddenly the door opened and two people rushed in. He fell back in shock when he saw them.
Lucie and her father! Lucie with her arms stretched out to him, and with that old look of earnestness so concentrated and intensified, that it seemed as though it had been stamped upon her face expressly to give force and power to it in this one passage of her life. It was Lucie and her father! Lucie had her arms stretched out toward him. She had that same old look of intense concentration and concern on her face. It seemed like it had been stamped there for this one particular moment in her life.
“What is this?” cried Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused. “What is the matter? Lucie! Manette! What has happened? What has brought you here? What is it?” “What is this?” yelled Mr. Lorry, breathless and confused. “What’s the matter? Lucie! Dr. Manette! What’s happened? Why are you here? What is it?”
With the look fixed upon him, in her paleness and wildness, she panted out in his arms, imploringly, “O my dear friend! My husband!” She looked at him, pale and upset. She said, panting, “Oh my dear friend! It’s my husband!”
“Your husband, Lucie?” “Your husband, Lucie?”
“Charles.” “Charles.”
“What of Charles?” “What about Charles?”
“Here. “He is here.”
“Here, in Paris?” “Here in Paris?”
“Has been here some days—three or four—I don’t know how many—I can’t collect my thoughts. An errand of generosity brought him here unknown to us; he was stopped at the barrier, and sent to prison.” “He’s been here for three or four days, I don’t know how many exactly. I can’t think straight. A errand of kindness brought him here. We didn’t know he was coming. He was stopped at the barrier and sent to prison.”