"It brought me here, it brought me to my grave.
When I was clear of the house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from behind, and my arms were pinioned.
The two brothers crossed the road from a dark corner, and identified me with a single gesture.
The Marquis took from his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the light of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot.
Not a word was spoken.
I was brought here, I was brought to my living grave.
"If it had pleased God to put it in the hard heart of either of the brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of my dearest wife-so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or dead-I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them.
But, now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that they have no part in His mercies.
And them and their descendants, to the last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times when all these things shall be answered for.
I denounce them to Heaven and to earth."