The Pull of Duty and Danger — A Tale of Two Cities

Three years after the revolution began, the violence in France has escalated beyond anyone's imagination. French nobles have fled to London, gathering at Tellson's Bank to share news and plot their return to power. Charles Darnay listens uncomfortably as these refugees, who learned nothing from their downfall, blame the people rather than examining their own failures. When elderly Mr. Lorry announces he's traveling to Paris on dangerous bank business, Darnay secretly wishes he could go himself to help his countrymen find restraint. Then fate intervenes: a letter arrives at the bank addressed to 'the Marquis St. Evrémonde', Darnay's secret noble identity. The letter is from Gabelle, the steward Darnay left in charge of his abandoned estates. Gabelle has been imprisoned and faces execution for serving an emigrant noble, desperately begging Darnay to return and save him. This crisis forces Darnay to confront a painful truth: his noble gesture of abandoning his inheritance was incomplete. He walked away without ensuring his people's protection or properly transferring responsibilities. Now an innocent man faces death because of Darnay's unfinished business. Despite the obvious danger, Darnay feels the irresistible pull of duty, like a ship drawn to a magnetic rock. He decides to travel to Paris, convinced he can help both Gabelle and the revolution itself. He tells no one, planning to leave letters for Lucie and Dr. Manette explaining his mission. The chapter ends with Darnay departing into the night, drawn by forces beyond his control toward almost certain doom.

Three more birthdays of little Lucie had been woven by the golden thread into the peaceful tissue of the life of her home. Many a night and many a day had its inmates listened to the echoes in the corner, with hearts that failed them when they heard the thronging feet. Now, a judicious selection from these with the least possible delay, and the burying of them, or otherwise getting of them out of harm’s way, is within the power (without loss of precious time) of scarcely any one but myself, if any one. And shall I hang back, when Tellson’s knows this and says this--Tellson’s, whose bread I have eaten these sixty years--because I am a little stiff about the joints?