Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

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66 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE. CARTON SAVES DARNAY BY HIS STRIKING RESEMBLANCE. innocent face, full of compassion for him. It was but a short time until Carton's prophecy came true. The cheery little home became cheerier still when Lucie became Charles Darnay's wife. Soon there was a little Lucie, with pale-gold ringlets, and the house was sunny with a child's laugh and the sound of prattling words. Darnay's step was strong and prosperous; Doctor Manette's firm and steady. Mr. Lorry came in and out, as before, rejoicing in their happiness. Sidney Carton came, at rare intervals, to spend an hour or two with the little Lucie. Between him and the child there was a strange sympathy. He was the first stranger to whom she held out her tiny hands, and as she grew he kept his place with her. If any dark shadow hung over this home it' was mercifully hidden. The future seemed to hold only golden years of love and promise. The red flood broke over Paris at last and the streets ran crimson with a thicker fluid than the red wine which the rabble had sopped so greedily. A tremendous roar arose from the throat of Saint Antoine, and, in response, three hundred thousand men leaped forth from every corner and crevice of France, every heart and pulse at highfever strain and high-fever heat. The common blood was up and the blood of tyranny and domination was down. The French Eevolution had broken over Europe. The New Era began; the king was tried, doomed and beheaded; the Kepublic of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity — or Death — came in with a rush; the black flag waved night and day from the towers of Notre-Dame : above all, dominating everything, towered one hideous figure — the sharp female called La Guillotine. Every day, thru the stony streets, tumbrils jolted, filled with the condemned. Lovely girls, bright women — brown-haired, blackhaired and gray; fair, promising youths; stalwart men and old — all delivered to La Guillotine to swell the red flood. Fate wove many strange webs in those days, spun many mystic threads, which drew curious, unassorted figures into this vortex, but none was stranger than the strand which drew the little family from the quiet, cheery London home into the pathway of the red flood. Charles Darnay was in a miserable prison in the heart of Paris, sentenced to death by the dread tribunal of the Kepublic. It was the last night of his life, and while Doctor Manette went forth in one last effort to save him, Lucie lay, crushed by her bitter agony, upon a couch in their lodgings. The little Lucie knelt by her mother, sob LUCIE LEARNS OF HER FATHER'S HISTORY.