There happened to be no customers 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 Evremonde！'
Defarge brought him the wine，and gave him Good Evening.
'How？'
'Good evening.'
'Oh！Good evening，citizen，'filling his glass.'Ah！and goodwine. 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 tomorrow！'
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 today；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 adeprecatory 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 today，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.
'The citizeness is superb！'croaked the Juryman.
'She is an Angel！'said The Vengeance，and embraced her.
'As to thee，'pursued madame，implacably，addressing her husband，'if it depended on thee—which，happily，it does not—thou wouldst rescue this man even now.'
'No！'protested Defarge.'Not if to lift this glass would do it！But I would leave the matter there. I say，stop there.'
'See you then，Jacques，'said Madame Defarge，wrathfully；'and see you，too，my little Vengeance：see you both！Listen！For other crimes as tyrants and oppressors，I have this race a long time on my register，doomed to destruction and extermination. Ask my husband，is that so.'
'It is so，'assented Defarge，without being asked.
'In the beginning of the great days，when the Bastille falls，he finds this paper of today，and he brings it home，and in the middle of the night when this place is clear and shut，we read it，here on this spot，by the light of this lamp. Ask him，is that so.'
'It is so，'assented Defarge.
'That night，I tell him，when the paper is read through，and the lamp is burnt out，and the day is gleaming in above those shuttersand between those iron bars，that I have now a secret to communicate. Ask him，is that so.'
'It is so，'assented Defarge again.
'I communicate to him that secret. I smite this bosom with these two hands as I smite it now，and I tell him，'Defarge，I was brought up among the fishermen of the seashore，and that peasant family so injured by the two Evremonde brothers，as that Bastille paper describes，is my family.Defarge，that sister of the mortally wounded boy upon the ground was my sister，that husband was my sister's husband，that unborn child was their child，that brother was my brother，that father was my father，those dead are my dead，and that summons to answer for those things descends to me！'Ask him，is that so.'
'It is so，'assented Defarge once more.
'Then tell Wind and Fire where to stop，'returned madame；'but don't tell me.'
Both her hearers derived a horrible enjoyment from the deadly nature of her wrath—the listener could feel how white she was，without seeing her—and both highly commended it. Defarge，a weak minority，interposed a few words of the memory of the compassionate wife of the Marquis；but only elicited from his own wife a repetition of her last reply.'Tell the Wind and the Fire where to stop；not me！'