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A relation Of Two Cities I prefer the chapters set in FranceOn reading A Tale Of Two Cities, my world-wide impression is that the French chapters are a lot more interesting to read. I prefer the chapters set in France because they are much more evoke and I am carried away by the novel whereas I found, that in the English chapters, they were all about Lucie and her undying love for her father and husband. This was, quite frankly, deadening and a waste of deuce effort to put some sentiment into these chapters which are set in London, a long way from the action in Paris. However, Dickens does need to put some sentiment into his book(perhaps he showed a small too much)to give reasons for the characters actions. I much prefer Dickens when he manages to move you by the sad death of somebody such as Nancy in Oliver Twist or indeed Sydney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities. This particular sentence illustrates my point very well. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever do ne it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known. I felt much sadder when I read these words than Dickens paragraphs about angels. I think nowadays people are more inclined to pass over those sentiments and read on because, to us, they sound ridiculous and the exemplary nature of these words is lost. Thus, the rustling of an Angels wings got blended with the other echoes, and they were not wholly of this earth, but had them in that breath of Heaven. Sighs of the winds that blew over the little garden tomb were mingled with them also, and both were audible to Lucie. When the chapters set in France are read, they make me feel as though I am with the characters, in the thick of the revolution, thinking their thoughts, walking through the streets of Paris with them. I see the same people, who scare you with their dancing and howls. One such example is The Carmagnole, the Revolutionaries who dance through the streets yell and screaming, thirsty for the blood of the a ristocrats. They danced to the popular Revolution song, keeping a ferocious time that was like the gnashing of teeth in unison. Men and women danced together, women danced together, men danced together, as misfortune brought them together.