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Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned." ¡¡¡¡"One can depart, citizen?" ¡¡¡¡"One can depart. Forward, my postilions! A good journey!" ¡¡¡¡"I salute you, citizens.- And the first danger passed!" ¡¡¡¡These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps his hands, and looks upward. There is terror in the carriage, there is weeping, there is the heavy breathing of the insensible traveller. ¡¡¡¡"Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to go faster?" asks Lucie, clinging to the old man. ¡¡¡¡"It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them too much; it would rouse suspicion." ¡¡¡¡"Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued!" ¡¡
¡¡"The road is clear, my dearest. So far, we are not pursued." ¡¡¡¡Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms, ruinous buildings, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, open country, avenues of leafless trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us, the soft deep mud is on either side. Sometimes, we strike into the skirting mud, to avoid the stones that clatter us and shake us; sometimes, we stick in ruts and sloughs there. The agony of our impatience is then so great, that in our wild alarm and hurry we are for getting out and running- hiding- doing anything but stopping.