Tale Of Two Cities

BOOK II cont...

"Gather our weapons! We leave at once! Go!" Callisto shrieked, ordering hundreds of people from the roof of her shop. She carried a sword in one hand, a torch in the other, and a look of evil in her eyes.

Draco shooed people into their proper formation, and gathered a few more rifles and swords, handing them out to nearby revolutionists.

It was time.

They were going to storm the Bastille. Not just to help the prisoners, but to serve their own purposes - they were looking for something that would help them against the aristocrats of Europe.

Slaughtering anyone in their way, they took to the Bastille. Some scaled walls, others began shooting soldiers that peered from the prison's windows. The place was in chaos.

No one, including Callisto, had ever seen this many people follow one person. She was pleased, and stopped only to take everything in and smirk at her accomplishements. Draco knew his wife only used these people. But she had a very good reason for it…

Suddenly, the crowd grew quiet. A troop of about twenty English soldiers marched into the street from the main ship port. People looked at one another. Who would they side with? Would they go it alone? Were they crazy?

The soldiers drew their rifles, and on the commander's words - they fired.

They fired at the Bastille.

The crowd was now in greater chaos, people cheering and shooting at the Bastille at the same time. No one was calm. People on both sides died, and no death was pretty. People were amazed at the English's courage and bravery to enter this revolution - on the sides of the poor people and san-coulettes.

Before the hour was over, they had opened the gates of the prison. Before the night was over, a total of seven heads on sticks could be seen throughout the crowd. They were all of soldiers from the Bastille. Most prisoners who were in the Bastille were now either free or dead.

Callisto slept peacefully that night.

The aristocrats didn't sleep at all.


Perdicus had been in the library for the past three hours the next day. The news about the revolt had spread quickly, and just after he had received the news about the Bastille, he received another letter.

It was from an old friend of his, Gabelle. He was being held captive by the Defarges, and Callisto wanted a fair exchange - Perdicus for Gabelle.

After a long while thinking, Perdicus decided what had to be done. He had put off his responsibilites in France far too long. He could catch whatever Callisto and Draco threw at him.

Or at least dodge anything.

"Love?" Gabrielle peaked in the office, worried about her husband.

Perdicus looked at his wife's face. This was hurting her so much, him leaving the country so much. He lied about half of everything he told her about. When she asked how his day went, he always claimed it was great. Almost all of the time, he wished he had never been born into the Evremonde family.

"Hello, dear," Perdicus tried to loosen up, but his voice still sounded strained and tensed. Gabrielle walked leisurely across the room and started to massage his shoulders.

"You're tense," she observed. "What's wrong?"

Darnay sighed. "I have to go to France for a short period of time."

At first, Gabrielle didn't respond or make an attempt to show that she heard the announcement.

"Well, then, I can have my things packed in a day or so. Little Gabrielle can stay here, with Atalanta," Gabrielle was already planning things out, not exactly understanding what this trip was about.

"No - Gabrielle. This trip is just for me. I need to straighten something out, and then that will be the end of my trips out of the country," Perdicus descretely patted his pistol under his jacket. If it came to it… he would fix his problems permantely.

Gabrielle titled her head slightly, not comprehending his thoughts. Perdicus' eyes left the telegram and met with Gabrielle's eyes.

With lightening quick speed, her hand flashed and snatched the telegram out of her husband's hands.

Perdicus jumped up, ready to grab the note back. Gabrielle backed up so that she was in the doorway. Her hands and the note were behind her back, and she stared at Perdicus.

"You are my husband, and you have a family. I miss you always when you are gone. It hurts me deeply not knowing what you're doing, or where you are!" Gabrielle said, piercing the heart of Perdicus. He almost wished he could use his pistol on himself.

"I have my privacy, Gabrielle. You know that I love you and little Gabrielle! Atalanta is a dear friend to me - but what you don't know can't hurt you!" Perdicus said. He cringed when his wife's eyes welled up with tears.

"Well, I'm prepared for the pain," Gabrielle took one more step back, keeping eye contact with Perdicus. She opened up the telegram and laid her eyes on the message.

P.D. - Gabelle with Defarges. Come immediately. P.D. exchange for Gabelle. Done.

Gabrielle's eyes opened wide. Her jaw dropped. Tears flowed from her eyes like a rainstorm.

Perdicus rushed to comfort her, as well as retrieve the note, but she pulled away, dropping the note in the foyer. She rushed up the stairs, not being able to see through her blurred eyes. Atalanta watched as Perdicus ran after her. It was a lucky thing little Gabrielle was asleep through all of this.

"You had better let her be," Atalanta called out to Perdicus. "Give her time. Go finish your work here, and before you go off tomorrow for France, comfort her and make your feelings known to her. You don't know what's going to happen in France."

Perdicus didn't even wonder how the maid knew about everything, but since she was trusted always, he made no note of it.


The next day showed no signs of change in the weather. It was overcast for the seventh day in a row.

"Gabrielle? Wife?" Perdicus knocked on his wife's sewing room. He opened the door and stepped into the huge room which was cluttered by expensive fabrics and elegant threads. He took all of this in, not knowing when he would see all of this again.

His eyes wandered to the corner of the room. Gabrielle's wedding dress was displayed on a life-size manquin. Perdicus thought about the day they had gotten married. It had seemed like yesterday…

"Are you leaving now?" Gabrielle asked, looking up from her sewing. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"Yes," Perdicus answered quietly, pulling up a nearby chair to sit by his wife. He looked into her eyes.

"You had better leave, then. Don't be late," Gabrielle said sarcastically, and went back to her sewing.

"I just came to talk," Perdicus said a little too defensively.

"Talk. Then leave," Gabrielle said bitterely.

Her husband sighed and cupped his hand around her face so that she was looking at him.

"I love you, Gabrielle. I have never stopped doing so. I can name when I started, but I will never be able to name where it ends. I am doing this for us. Once this is over, our troubles with the revolution will be over," Perdicus said slowly, his face only inches away from Gabrielle's.

"The revolution? We are in England! Why do you need to worry about it? We have no business in it - and people who get involved are only asking for it!" Gabrielle said, her voice cracking. She was just about to cry - again.

Perdicus couldn't stand to make her cry.

"You are right in some ways, but if everyone had that attitude, where would we be now?" he asked hypothitcally. There was a long silence.

"I love you, Gabrielle," Perdicus closed, standing up. Gabrielle stood up with him, and their kiss lingered for a long time. Only the knock on the door brought them back to reality.

"My carriage is here…" Perdicus said, accepting Gabrielle's tight hug. It tore him up to pull away from her. As they kissed good-bye once more, he thought about why they were acting like this.

Was it a sixth sense? Or was it just a bad feeling?

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