t of their own.

Darnay, safe in London with Lucie, knew little and thought less of all
this, till he received a pitiful letter from Gabelle, who expected each
morning to be dragged out to be killed, telling of the plight into which
his faithfulness had brought him, and beseeching his master's aid.

This letter made Darnay most uneasy. He blamed himself, because he knew
it was his fault that Gabelle had been left so long in such a dangerous
post. He did not forget that his own family, the Evremondes, had been
greatly hated. But he thought the fact that he himself had refused to be
one of them, and had given his sympathy rather to the people they
oppressed, would make it possible for him to obtain Gabelle's release.
And with this idea he determined to go himself to Paris.

He knew the very thought of his going, now that France was mad with
violence, would frighten Lucie, so he determined not to tell her. He
packed some clothing hurriedly and left secretly, sending a letter back
telling her where and why he was going. And by the time she read this he
was well on his way from England.

Darnay had expected to find no trouble in his errand and little personal
risk in his journey, but as soon as he landed on the shores of France he
discovered his mistake. He had only to give his real name, "the Marquis
de St. Evremonde," which he was obliged to do if he would help Gabelle,
and the title was the signal for rude threats and ill treatment. Once
in, he could not go back, and he felt as if a monstrous net were closing
around him (as indeed, it was) from which there was no escape.

He was sent on to Paris under a guard of soldiers, and there he was at
once put into prison to be tried--and in all probability condemned to
death--as one of the hated noble class whom the people were now killing
as fast as they could.

The great room of the prison to which he was taken Darnay found full of
ladies and gentlemen, most of them rich and titled, the men chatting,
the women reading or doing embroidery, all courteous and polite, as if
they sat in their own splendid homes, instead of in a prison from which
most of them could issue only to a dreadful death. He was allowed to
remain here only a few moments; then he was taken to an empty cell and
left alone.

It happened that the bank of which Mr. Lorry was agent had an office
also in Paris, and the old gentleman had come there on business the day
before Darnay arrived. Mr. Lorry was an Eng