A Tale
Mr. Charles Darnay opened his eyes to a sight he never thought he'd see again: his lovely, golden-haired bride, Lucie and their beautiful daughter. They all rode in a carriage to a destination unbeknownst to him, Is this what it's like to be dead?
The thought stayed but for an instant, then one came that sent fear shooting through him, "Have you, my family, been arrested as well?"
He looked around and saw his father-in-law, the good Doctor Manette, sitting on the other side of his daughter, and to his own right was Mr. Lorry, banker and family friend.
Lucie smiled at him and put her hand upon his knee, "No, my love, not arrested. We are on our way home."
Charles let out a sigh of relief, he couldn't bear the thought of these people he loved so much imprisoned for their association with him. He could deal with his own unjust imprisonment, condemned by the people of France as an "enemy of the Republic" simply because his true name was Evremonde. The Marqui de Evremonde. An aristocrat and therefore a threat. It seemed not to matter that he had renounced his title and that despicable way of life. To the revolutionists of France, anyone who bore any title but patriot deserved death.
"Wait, home to England? How?" His mind was slow to remember anything that had happened since his condemning trial. Mr. Lorry and Dr. Manette exchanged glances, and Lucie had a sad look in her eye. He tried to recall... He was sitting in his cell... Writing. Something. Waiting, waiting... Just waiting. Thinking about his loved ones, his family, the ones who would mourn him... A face, someone came into his cell, a friend. Like looking into a mirror. The one he least expected... A name. Was there a name attached to that face? There was. Now, what was it... Carton! Sydney Carton! The man who might have been his twin but for their difference in character. The man who had used this fact to save Charles' life when he was on trial in England as a spy, The man who afterward expressed his extreme dislike for him while dead drunk, and the very same man who, some time later, soon after Charles' marriage to Lucie, apologized for his drunken statement and asked if they might be friends. He had asked to be allowed to come around "whenever the mood took him." He had told Charles to think of him as a useless old piece of furniture, largely ignored, but kept because of past services. A self-deprecating, broken shell of a man. A man Charles would never understand.
Charles lifted his head to look at his wife, "Sydney Carton."
No one seemed surprised, so he continued, "He came to me, I was scheduled to die today. He came in and told me to change boots and coats with him. I told him that escape is impossible, that he would only endanger his own life as well. He said, 'Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door?' then he asked me to write something for him. I was confused but assented, so he stood behind me and began to dictate. As I wrote, a strange smell entered my nostrils; I felt myself becoming tired, my eyes heavy. I stood quickly, trying to shake it off, but I knew what was happening. I felt Carton's arm around me and saw the vial he held under my nose. Then I woke up in here."
Lucie had withdrawn her hands into her lap and sat looking at them, as if remembering something. A tear fell from her eyes and it was Charles' turn to place his hand on her knee. Once again, Mr. Carton's almost identical resemblance to Charles had saved his life.
"He gave himself up for me. Why?" Lucie turned her head to look out the window, but gave her husband no answer. They rode along in silence to the docks and then home.
Charles, throughout the many happy years he spent safe in England with his family, would often think of Sydney Carton and wonder in thankfulness at the sacrifice he made on his behalf. He never knew of the secret conversation between Lucie and Mr. Carton, or of the solemn promise he made her on that day she never forgot. Mr. Charles Darnay never knew that Sydney's dying thoughts were of Lucie and the love he had for her that would never be reciprocated. Sydney Carton's last words as he stood before the guillotine ring true, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done..." He died content that he had kept his promise and brought joy to the one he loved.