Content
"You have a visitor, you see," said Monsieur Defarge.
His anger against her found vent in coarse railing at her paramour, whose name and voice and features offended his baffled pride: a priested peasant, with a brother a policeman in Dublin and a brother a potboy in Moycullen.
It was the house through which the visitors had just been shown.
The sketch was in his diary, but it had been made afterwards, when he viewed things artistically.
