A_Tale_of_Two_Cities_NT

A Tale of Two Cities
‘You left Paris yesterday, sir?’ he said to Monseigneur,
as he took his seat at table.
‘Yesterday. And you?’
‘I come direct.’
‘From London?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have been a long time coming,’ said the Marquis,
with a smile.
‘On the contrary; I come direct.’
‘Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the journey; a
long time intending the journey.’
‘I have been detained by’—the nephew stopped a
moment in his answer—‘various business.’
‘Without doubt,’ said the polished uncle.
So long as a servant was present, no other words passed
between them. When coffee had been served and they
were alone together, the nephew, looking at the uncle and
meeting the eyes of the face that was like a fine mask,
opened a conversation.
‘I have come back, sir, as you anticipate, pursuing the
object that took me away. It carried me into great and
unexpected peril; but it is a sacred object, and if it had
carried me to death I hope it would have sustained me.’
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