charles darnay felt it hopeless to entreat him further, and his pride was touched besides. as they walked on in silence, he could not but see how used the people were to the spectacle of prisoners passing along the streets. the very children scarcely noticed him. a few passers turned their heads, and a few shook their fingers at him as an aristocrat; otherwise, that a man in good clothes should be going to prison, was no more remarkable than that a labourer in working clothes should be going to work. in one narrow, dark, and dirty street through which they passed, an excited orator, mounted on a stool, was addressing an excited audience on the crimes against the people, of the king and the royal family. the few words that he caught from this man's lips, first made it known to charles darnay that the king was in prison, and that the foreign ambassadors had one and all left paris. on the road (except at beauvais) he had heard absolutely nothing. the escort and the universal watchfulness had completely isolated him.