In the dark roads behind the court, the last of those people who had become a soup of hate, cooking in the Old Bailey all day, was leaving. Doctor Manette and his daughter, Lucie, Mr. Lorry, and the defence lawyer, Mr. Stryver, were, at that same time, standing in a circle around Mr. Charles Darnay -- just freed -- sharing his happiness on having just been saved from death.
Even if the light had been better, it would be difficult to think of Doctor Manette, who was standing straight and tall, as the old shoemaker from the room in Paris. Yet, anyone who looked at him closely would see that there was something strange about him. He would still lose his thoughts at times, and there was often a sadness in his low voice without any good reason. When the reason was clear, as happened in the court when he was questioned about his time in prison, it was easy to understand the change in him. But at other times, without any good reason, one could almost see the shadow of the government prison in Paris, some three hundred miles away, coming over his face.
Only his daughter would be able to pull him out of those sad times. She was the golden thread that held together his past and his present in a way that was stronger than the sadness he felt in both. The sound of her voice, the light of her face, and the touch of her hand almost always helped him through the dark times. But not quite always, for there were times she could remember, not many, when her powers had failed for a while. Yet, for now, she believed that those times were over.
Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand sincerely and with many thanks, and had turned to Mr. Stryver, whom he also thanked warmly. Mr. Stryver, a man of little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older, was fat, loud, red, and free from anything that would keep him from pushing his way into and through a crowd or any other thing standing in his way. It seemed that it was this spirit that had served most to move him up in the world.
Mr. Stryver still had his wig and robe on, and he said, pushing himself up close in front of Darnay, so much so that he squeezed innocent Mr. Lorry right out of the picture, "I'm glad to have saved you so well, Mr. Darnay. It was an awful set of arguments that the Attorney-General used, very awful; not that it would have stopped them from winning on most days."
"I will owe you for life, in more ways than one," said the man who had been a prisoner, taking Mr. Stryver's hand.
"I did my best, Mr. Darnay, and I believe my best is as good as any other man's."
Mr. Stryver was clearly waiting for someone to say that his best had been better than most, and so Mr. Lorry said it, not with much enthusiasm, but more as a way to squeeze back into the circle.
"Do you think so?” said Mr. Stryver. "Well, you have been there all day, and you should know, as you too are a man of business."
Mr. Stryver now worked as hard to shoulder Mr. Lorry back into the group as he had earlier worked to shoulder him out.
"As such," said Mr. Lorry, "I will now ask Doctor Manette to break up this meeting and send us all to our homes. Miss Lucie looks sick and Mr. Darnay has had an awful day. We are all tired."
"Speak for yourself, Mr. Lorry," said Stryver. "I have a night's work to do yet. Speak for yourself."
"I do speak for myself," answered Mr. Lorry," and for Mr. Darnay and for Miss Lucie, and... Miss Lucie, do you not think I may speak for all of us?” He asked her with a look toward her father.
Doctor Manette's face had become locked in a strange look at Darnay, a strong look that turned into one of hate and fear. With this strange look on his face, his thoughts had moved away from what was happening around him.
"Father," said Lucie softly, laying her hand on his. He slowly shook the shadow off, and turned to her.
"Shall we go home, father?"
Breathing in deeply, he answered, "Yes."
The friends of the freed prisoner went their way, thinking, because he himself had told them so, that he would not be free to leave the place until the next day. Most of the lights were put out around the Old Bailey, the iron gates were being closed with much noise, and the court was empty, waiting for the next morning's interest in hanging and whipping and burning with a hot iron. Walking between her father and Mr. Darnay, Lucie Manette stepped out into the open air. A coach was called and the father and daughter left.
Mr. Stryver had left them outside so he could shoulder his way back to the court dressing room to take off his robe and wig. Another person, who had not joined the group or said a word to any of them, but who had been leaning against the wall where its shadow was the darkest, quietly walked out after the Manette's left and watched the coach drive away. He now walked up to where Mr. Lorry and Mr. Darnay were standing on the footpath.
"So Mr. Lorry. Men of business may talk with Mr. Darnay now?"
Nothing had been said about Mr. Carton's part in saving Darnay, because no one but Stryver knew of it. Mr. Carton had his court robe off now, but he did not look any better for it, as he spoke:
"If you knew the war that goes on in the mind of a businessman, Mr. Darnay, when he is pulled between doing what is right and doing what will help his business, you would laugh."
Mr. Lorry turned red, and said with some fire, "You have said that before. But we who work for a business are not our own masters. We must think of the business more than ourselves."
"I know, I know," said Mr. Carton with little interest. "Don't be angry, Mr. Lorry. You're as good as the next businessman, I should think. Better, I would say."
"The truth, sir," said Mr. Lorry, not listening to him, "is that my business is none of your business, if I may say that as one who is much older than you."
"Business? Bless me, I don't have a business," said Mr. Carton.
"It is too bad that you do not, sir."
"I think so too."
"If you did, maybe you would be busy with it now," Mr. Lorry said, pushing his point farther.
"Bless you, Mr. Lorry, but I'm sure I would not be," said Mr. Carton.
"Well, sir!" cried Mr. Lorry, who was quite angry that the man showed so little interest in what he was saying, "business is a very good thing, and something others think well of. And, sir, if business stops us from doing or saying some things, then Mr. Darnay, as a young man who understands life, you must know how to make room for that in your thinking. Good night, Mr. Darnay, and may God bless you, sir! I hope that you have been saved today for a rich and happy life. Coach, here!"
Just a little angry with himself as well as with the lawyer, Mr. Lorry climbed into the coach and headed off to Tellson's. Carton, who had the smell of wine on him, laughed and turned to Darnay.
"This is a strange day that puts the two of us together. This must be a strange night for you, standing here on these street stones with one who is so much like you in looks."
"I hardly feel yet that I am a part of this world," returned Darnay.
"I am not surprised. Only a short while ago you were well on your way to another world. You speak very softly."
"I am feeling a little weak."
"Then why the devil don't you get something to eat? I ate when we were waiting for that stupid jury to say which world you should be in. Come with me and I'll show you to the closest hotel, where you can get a good meal."
Pulling Darnay's arm through his own, he led him through a few streets and up a covered walk into a hotel. Here they were taken to a little room where Charles Darnay was soon building up his strength with a good meal and a good wine. Carton sat at the same table, opposite to him, with a separate bottle of wine and his rough way still about him.
"Do you now feel a part of the world again, Mr. Darnay?"
"I am very confused about time and place, but I do feel that."
"It must make you feel very good.” He said it bitterly, and again filled his glass, which was a big one. "As for me, I would really like to forget that I am part of this earth. It has nothing in it for me -- apart from wines like this -- and I have nothing for it. So we are very different in that way. In truth, I am starting to think that we are not the same in anything, you and I."
Confused by all that happened that day, and feeling that his being there with this awful man was like a dream, Charles Darnay did not know how to answer. In the end, he did not answer at all.
"Now that your dinner is finished," Carton said after some time, why don't we drink to someone? You name it."
"Drink to someone? To whom?"
"Just say it. It's on the end of your tongue.”
"Miss Manette, then!"
"Miss Manette, then!"
Looking straight in the other man's face, while drinking to Miss Manette, Carton threw his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it broke into pieces. Then he shook the bell and asked for another.
"That was a beautiful young woman to give to a coach in the dark, Mr. Darnay!" he said, filling his new glass.
A small look of anger and a smaller word, "Yes", were Darnay's answer.
"She's a nice young woman to be crying for you and feeling sorry for you! How does it feel? Is it worth the danger of almost losing your life to receive such love, Mr. Darnay?"
Darnay said nothing.
"She was very happy to hear what you said when I gave it to her. Not that she showed it, but I think she was."
This made Darnay remember that this man had freely helped to save his life. So he changed the talk to that, and thanked him for his help.
"I don't want thanks, and I have done nothing to receive it," was Carton's answer. "It was nothing to do, in the first place, and I don't know why I did it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question."
"Gladly. It is a small return for your help."
"Do you think that I like you?"
"Really, Mr. Carton," he answered, worried about where this was leading, "I have not asked myself this question."
"So ask yourself now."
"You have acted like you do, but I don't think you do."
"I don't think I do," said Carton. "But I do think you have understood me well."
"All the same," Darnay went on, reaching to ring the bell, "I hope there is nothing in that to stop me from paying for our drinks, and leaving without bad blood on either side."
"Nothing at all," Carton answered. "Are you going to pay for everything?” When Darnay said he was, Carton said to the servant,
"Then bring me another bottle of this same wine, and wake me at ten."
When he had paid the waiter, Charles Darnay stood up and wished Carton a good night. Without returning the wish, Carton stood up and with a touch of anger in his way of looking at Darnay, said, "A last word, Mr. Darnay; do you think I am drunk?"
"I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton."
"Think? You know I have been drinking."
"Since I must say so, yes, I know it."
"Then you shall also know why. I am a bored worker, sir. I care for no one on earth, and no one on earth cares for me."
"That is very sad. You might have used your abilities better."
"Maybe so, Mr. Darnay; maybe not. But don't let your serious face lift you up too much. You don't know what it may come to. Good night!"
When he was alone, this strange man took a candle, walked over to a mirror on the wall, and looked at himself closely in it.
"Do you like the man?” he whispered, looking at his own face. "Why should you like a man who looks like you? There is nothing in you to like; you know that. Ah, be gone with you! How you have changed! A good reason to like the man is that he has showed you where you have failed, and what you could have been. Change places with him, and would you have been looked at with as much love by those blue eyes as what he received? Come out with it and speak the truth. You hate him."
He returned to his wine, finished it all in a few minutes, and fell asleep on his arms with his hair hanging across the table.