Doctor Manette was next questioned. His high personal popularity，and the clearness of his answers，made a great impression：but，as he proceeded，as he showed that the accused was his first friend on his release from his long imprisonment；that，the accused had remained in England，always faithful and devoted to his daughter and himself in their exile；that，so far from being in favour with the Aristocrat government there，he had actually been tried for his life by it，as the foe of England and friend of the United States—as he brought these circumstances into view，with the greatest discretion and with the straightforward force of truth and earnestness，the Jury and the populace became one At last，when he appealed by name to Monsieur Lorry，an English gentleman then and there present，who，like himself，had been a witness on that English trial and could corroborate his account of it，the Jury declared that they had heard enough，and that they were ready with their votes if the President were content to receive them.
At every vote（the Jurymen voted aloud and individually），the populace set up a shout of applause. All the voices were in the prisoner's favour，and the President declared him free.
Then，began one of those extraordinary scenes with which the populace sometimes gratified their fickleness，or their better impulses towards generosity and mercy，or which they regarded as some set-off against their swollen account of cruel rage. No man can decide now to which of these motives such extraordinary scenes were referable；it is probable，to a blending of all three，with the second predominating.No sooner was the acquittalpronounced，than tears were shed as freely as blood at another time，and such fraternal embraces were bestowed upon the prisoner by as many of both ***es as could rush at him，that after his long and unwholesome confinement he was in danger of fainting from exhaustion；none the less because he knew very well，that the very same people，carried by another current，would have rushed at him with the very same intensity，to rend him to pieces and strew him over the streets.
His removal，to make way for other accused persons who were to be tried，rescued him from these caresses for the moment. Five were to be tried together，next，as enemies of the Republic，forasmuch as they had not assisted it by word or deed.So quick was the Tribunal to compensate itself and the nation for a chance lost，that these five came down to him before he left the place，condemned to die within twenty-four hours.The first of them told him so，with the customary prison sign of Death—a raised finger—and they all added in words，'Long live the Republic！'
The five had had，it is true，no audience to lengthen their proceedings，for when he and Doctor Manette emerged from the gate，there was a great crowd about it，in which there seemed to be every face he had seen in Court，except two，for which he looked in vain. On his coming out，the concourse made at him anew，weeping，embracing，and shouting，all by turns and all together，until the very tide of the river on the bank of which the mad scene was acted，seemed to run mad，like the people on the shore.
They put him into a great chair they had among them，and which they had taken either out of the Court itself，or one of its rooms or passages. Over the chair they had thrown a red flag，and to the back of it they had bound a pike with a red cap on its top.Inthis car of triumph，not even the Doctor's entreaties could prevent his being carried to his home on men's shoulders，with a confused sea of red caps heaving about him，and casting up to sight from the stormy deep such wrecks of faces，that he more than once misdoubted his mind being in confusion，and that he was in the tumbril on his way to the Guillotine.
In wild dreamlike procession，embracing whom they met and pointing him out，they carried him on. Reddening the snowy streets with the prevailing Republican colour，in winding and tramping through them，as they had reddened them below the snow with a deeper dye，they carried him thus into the court-yard of the building where he lived.Her father had gone on before，to prepare her，and when her husband stood upon his feet，she dropped insensible in his arms.
As he held her to his heart and turned her beautiful head between his face and the brawling crowd，so that his tears and her lips might come together unseen，a few of the people fell to dancing. Instantly，all the rest fell to dancing，and the court-yard overflowed with the Carmagnole.Then，they elevated into the vacant chair a young woman from the crowd to be carried as the Goddess of Liberty，and then swelling and overflowing out into the adjacent streets，and along the river's bank，and over the bridge，the Carmagnole absorbed them every one and whirled them away.
After grasping the Doctor's hand，as he stood victorious and proud before him；after grasping the hand of Mr. Lorry，who came panting in breathless from his struggle against the waterspout of the Carmagnole；after kissing little Lucie，who was lifted up to clasp her hands round his neck；and after embracing the ever zealous and faithful Pross who lifted her；he took his wife in hisarms，and carried her up to their rooms.
'Lucie！My own！I am safe.'
'O dearest Charles，let me thank God for this on my knees as I have prayed to Him.'
They all reverently bowed their heads and hearts. When she was again in his arms，he said to her—'And now speak to your father，dearest.No other man in all this France could have done what he has done for me.'
She laid her head upon her father's breast，as she had laid his poor head on her own breast，long，long ago. He was happy in the return he had made her，he was recompensed for his suffering，he was proud of his strength.'You must not be weak，my darling，'he remonstrated；'don't tremble so.I have saved him.'
