Words from a book I last read six years ago.
“Before I go,” he said, and paused — “I may kiss her?”
It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her face with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest to him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was a handsome old lady, that she heard him say, “A life you love.”
It struck me today how many of us want to be Sydney Carton. It’s terrifying and astonishing at the same time.