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Les diagrammes suivants lllustrent la mdthode. t 2 3 2:x 1 2 3 4 5 6 i!*S^. y 'Sr^Wi: Sil:-! El 1 SL.I: 1 1 i^5ii"_,»^^- -i,. ^"ir:;:;! m^ ^l?':^;'^''';' 6^ **«''*S*^ i^i 'tMH i ■fA-W^i." .*i.,r ■'***^^-. ^i«Sl ^-fivl§^: X Yarmouth Memorial U g IFMgb School ILibrar? ^ 5{ Accession No. X X X X X X .2,!!:/ Shelf No. X X X X X X xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxS tif rSf»- SSSf"*"* L^ :^ ./ ^ / / Hi- Rob espierre \ i YARMOUTH MhMOKIAL HIGH SCHOOL \ i i MISS lOl.l.KN IKRKY AS CLAKISSK 1,E MAn,r,.,N IN " R. -HKSPIERRE. Hi I Robespierre TAe Story of yictorien Sardou's Play Adapted and Novelized under his authority HV ANGK GALDEMAR TORONTO THE COPF. CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED 1899 i Copyright, i8gg. By Ange Oai.demak. Sttibcraits ^rtse : fOHN Wn.SON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. Contents i Chapter I The Discovery .... II The Voice of the Past . III The Englishman IV The Arrest V The Scaffold amid Flowers VI The Prison of La Bourse . . VII The F£t':, of the Supreme Being VIII Beset ly Memories and Forebodings IX Hours of Anguish . . i , , X The Tumbrils XI ^'All These Gliding Ghosts" XII The Eve of the Battle . . , XIII A Broken Idol . . . ,, , . XIV The Knell of the Tocsin . . XV Death's Kindly Veil .... Pact I 22 45 71 82 97 125 '5' 187 204 229 254 276 293 312 V MON CHER GaldEMAR, J achivo la lecture du roman qu'avec mon auto- nsacon vous avez ti,e de mon drame "Robespierre " Je ne saurais crop me feliciter de vous avoir encour- age a entreprendre ce travail, oC vous avez, de ia fafon la plus heureuse, reprodui, les incidents dra- mafques dc ma piece et prepare votre lecteur a apprecier Tadmirable evocation du passe que Sit Henry Irving lui presence sur la scene du Lyceum Je ne doutc pas que le succes de votre livre ne ».. tel que vous le souhai.e ma vieiUe et constante amitie. Marly-le-Roi. /^- /i, J> Robespierre CHAPTER I THE DISCOVERY The Hotel de Pontivy was situated in the Rue des Lions-Saint-Paul, in the very heart of the Marais Quarter, which as early as the opening of this story, the June of 1775, seemed to form bv itself a little province in Paris, It was a magnificent spring night. The sky luminous with a galaxy of stars, was reflected on the dark waters of the Seine lazily flowing by. A hush rested on the Rue des Lions-Saint-Paul, which lay enshrouded in gloom and silence, indifferent to the fairy charms of the hour. Enclosed in high walls thickly clad with ivy dark and mysterious as a prison, the Hotel de Pont.vy had all the aspect of some chill cloister apart from men and movement. And yet behind those shutters, where life seemed to pause, wrapped .n slumber, some one is keeping watch -the master of the house. Monsieur Jacques Bernard Olivier de Pont.vy, Councillor to the King's Parliament, sits late at his work, taking no count of time. z 2 Robespierre But Monsieur dc Poiitivy has at last decided ; he raises his eyes to the clock. " Twenty past two ! " he exclaims. " I really cannot wake that poor fellow ! " Through the deep stillness of the vast room, with blinds and curtains drawn, a stillness enhanced by the glare of candelabra lighted up, as if in broad day, the heavy, green-repp ainichairs, and book- shelves of massive oak ornamented with brass rose-work, passing a litter of cardboard boxes and waste-paper basket, and in the centre the ministerial desk overladen with books and bundles, the coun- cillor makes his way towards a bureau that he has not yet opened. " Perhaps it may be here," he says, as he turns over a whole file of letters, old and new, receipts, accounts, plans and invoices— one of those mixed files put aside for future classification. Perhaps the paper had been slipped in there by mistake .? iMon- sicur de Pontivy set to work methodically, turning the papers over one by one, stopping here and there to read a word that caught his attention, or threw a sudden light on things long forgotten, and awakened projects long dormant. " Oh ! I must think over that," he exclaimed, as he put one or ar,other aside. Now and again a ray of joy lit up his counte- nance, as he thought he had found the missing paper, and as disappointment followed he renewed the search with unabated ardour. The Discovery m For more than half an hour he went on thus, seeking the lost document, a lawyer's opinion re- cently received, which would assist him in elucdat ing a d.ftcult point which was to be secretly debated the next day in Parliament, before judgment was dehvered. He had thoughtlessly let his youn. secre- tary retue without asking him the whereabouts of this documeiit, which he alone could find Monsieur de Pontivy had hastened to h.s study this evening directly dinner was over, to mature in sohtude the arguments which were to triumph on the morrow, and of which he wished to make a short, concise summary before retiring to rest Having returned home sooner than usual 'that afternoon, the fancy had seized him to advance the dmner hour, but learning that his daughter had not returned, he was obliged to forego his whim. This hour was rarely changed, the regulations of the house being rigorous to a degree, but Monsieur de Pontivy m the excess of his despotic authority was none the less displeased, being early himself, to find no one awaiting him. So when he heard the rumblin. of he heavy coach which brought back Clarisse^nd her governess, Mademoiselle Jusseaume, he sought for a pretext to vent his ill-humour on them. He had commenced to walk impatiently back- cTs: :;f t^'^ ''- ^•^^'^ ^-§^^ ^^ ^^' -m, casting hasty glances out of the window, wonder ;/ - ^he child's delay in coming to him, when the door opened and a head appeared in the doorway 4 Robespierre fair, with pale, delicate features, large blue eyes, wide open to the day, in whose clear depths, half- hidden by the fresh candour of first youth, lay a tinge of melancholy. It was Clarissc. What an apparition, in such an austere and dreary place, that frail, white-robed form standing on the threshold, a tender smile of dawn in the dark room! She entered on tip-toe, approaching her father with greeting in her eyes and on her lips} he, continuing his walk, had his back towards her. " Already here ? " she asked, and her voice fell on the silence like an angclus. Monsieur de Pontivy turned abruptly. " How is it that you enter without knocking ? " The smile died on the child's lips. She mur- mured, disconcerted and abashed — "I never used to knock, father, on entering your room." " Then make it a point to do so in future. You are no longer a child ; so learn to be discreet and to respect closed doors. A closed room, mademoiselle, is a sanctuary." The young girl was accustomed to sermons, but had not expected one of that kind just then. She stood irresolute, hesitating whether to advance or retire. "Must I go ? " she hazarded, trembling. Monsieur de Pontivy, satisfied at having vented The Discovery mur- I his ill-humour, stooped to kiss his daughter's fore- head, and then added, as if to .often the effects of his reception — " Where have you been to-day ? " " On the boulevards." " Were there many people ' " The young girl, reassured by this encouragement, began brightly— * " Oh yes, and only imagine . . . ' " "That will do' You can tell me that at table " But at table she was supposed only to reply to her father, and he, lost in meditation, did not question her that day. And so passed all the meals she partook of with her father and young de Robespierre, Monsie.r de Pontivy's secretarv^ whom the councillor made welcome every day at h.s ^able, glad to have so near at hand one who.c memory and aid were easilv available. T.mid at first, confining himself to the points put to him, the young secretary had gradually be- come bolder, and sometimes, to Clarisse's great de- 'ght, would lead the conversation on to subjects of l.tcrature and art, opening out a new world before her, and shedding rays of thought in her dawning m.nd. She found a similar source of pleasure on Sundays ,n the reception-room, while Monsieur de Pontivy s attention was absorbed by his dull and solemn friends in interminable games of whist, and Robespierre entertained her apart, quickening her young dreams by the charm of an imagination at 6 Robespierre once brilliant and graceful. It was as dew falling from heaven on her solitude. Alas, how swiftly those houi-; flew ' Clarisse was just sixteen. She could not remember one day of real joy. Her mother she had lost long ago ; her brother Jacques, two years younger than her- self, was always at school at the College de Navarre, and she saw him only once a fortnight, at lunch, after mass, on Sunday. At four o'clock an usher fetched him, when he had submitted his fortnight's school-work for the inspection of his father, who more often than not found fauU -vith his eflorts, so that the lad frankl) confessed to iiis sister that, upon the whole, he preferred those Sundays on which he remained at school. From her cradle Clarisse had been given over to nurses and chamber-maids, and at the age of eight she was confided to the care of nuns, just when she was emerging from the long torpor of childhood. Here she remained until the day when Monsieur de Pontivy, whose paternal solicitude had, up to then, been limited to taking her to the country for the holidays, claimed her, and install-.d her in his town residence under the charge of a governess. But Clarisse had only changed convents. For going out but seldom, except to mass and vespers on Sun- days, at St. Paul's Church, or on fine days for a drive in the great coach with her governess, she continued to grow like a hot-house plant, closed in by the high walls c'"the house where nothing smiled. The Discovery 7 not even the garden uncultivated and almost aban- doned, nor the courtyard where a few scattered weeds pushed their way between the stones. It is true the young girl fully made up for this in the country, during the summ^i months at the Chateau de Pontivy, two miles from Compiegne, where her father spent his holidavs. But thev were so short, those precious holidavi ' The autumn roses had scarcely unfolded when she was compelled to return with her father to Paris ; and all the charm and sweetness of September, with the tender tints of its dying leaves, were unknown to her, though a semblance of its grace crept into her room some- times in the Rue dcs Lions-Saint-Paul, and stole like melancholy into her young soul, but new-awak- ened to the ideal, arousing a regret for joys denied. These holidays were shorter since Monsieur de Pontivy recommenced his duties as councillor to the Parliament which the King had just re-estab- lished, and Clarisse began again to feel lonely, so lonely that she looked forward impatier.tly to the dinner-hour, when the young secretary brought with him some gay reports and rumours of Paris, planted germs of poetry in her soul, and initiated her into those charming trifles which constitute fashionable life. All her suppressed tenderness and affection, which asked nothing better than to overflow, were con- centrated on her governess, Mademoiselle Ju-.- seaume, an excellent creature, upright and generous. • Robespierre te^ Uplsive, inconsequent, and - thout authority. She was a good Catholic, and saw that her charge scrupulously observed her religious duties. She kept her place, was submissive, discreet, and always contented ; and this was more than enough to satisfy Monsieur de Pontivy, wlio classed all womankind in one rank, and that the lowest. Of his two children the one in whom Monsieur de Pontivy took the greater interest was his son, the heir to his name, and to whom would descend later on the office of councillor. But as this was as yet a distant prospect, he contented himself with superintending his education as much as possible, absorbed as he was in high functions which he ful- filled with that perseverance and assiduity, that desire to give incessant proofs of staunch fidelity, which arise from an immeasurable pride. Such a character can well be imagined. Heart- less, hard, and implacable, strictly accomplishing his duty, honest to a fiiult, making ever an ostent tatious display of his pnnciplcs, doing no man harm, but a'.^o suffering no man to harm him, under an apparent coldness he masked an excess of violence that the least suspicion or provocation would arouse. Clarisse had her black-letter days — days of scold- ing, when with eyes brimful of t'ears she' retired to her room, forbidden even to seek refuge with her governfiR • and looking back through tlie mists of childhooo, ,hi endured again those^ terrible scenes of anger, il,c N^ror .f which haunted her still. The Discovery The two women understood each other instinc- tively, almost without the aid of words, living as they did that sequestered existence, in constant c'^om^ munion, both losing themselves in the same vague dreams, trembling on the borders of the unknown j each leaning on the other, with this only difference chat Clarisse with an indefinable feeling of dawning force took the lead. The same dim future smiled on both, the same far-off paradise of delusive hopes in which they would gladly lose themselves, until Mademoiselle Jusseaume, suddenly conscious of responsibility would rouse herself, blushing and trembling, a. if at some guilty thought. For in their dav-dreams Monsieur de Pontivy had no part, did not exist. Was he to disappear ? Was he to die ? In any case he was always absent from these speculations, and Mademoiselle Jusseaume, the soul of righteous- ness, felt that this was altogether wrong. " You must love your father," she would say, as if stirred by soo^e secret impulse, and the remark fell suddenly and unexpectedly on the silence of the little room where the two were apparently deeply absorbed in the mazy dancing c" the flies. "But I do love him!" Clarisse woJld answer without surprise, as if replying to sortve inner thought. She was, indeed, convinced of it, poor child ' Final love beamed in her eyes, love for her father- a mixture of respect for his age and position, and of lO Robespierre gratitude for his rare kindnesses, while he did not realise the gulf that separated him from his daughter a gulf which a little tenderness, an occasional re- sponse, a smile however slight, might have sufficed to bridge. He did not realise the riches of this mine, or seek its treasures of youth, of grace, and of love abounding In every vein. He had but to bend down, look into her large blue eves, those eyes where the dreams floated, to find a\vorld of love. • However, he had other things to think about- Monsieur de Pontivy, King's Councillor to the' ancient Parliament, and unanimously returned to the new ; a man of position, rich, influential, highly connected, of the old provincial noblesse, admitted to the council of the King, honoured at Court, re- spected in the town, feared at home by a whole crowd of cringing lackeys trembling before this potentate of fortune and intellect, who seemed to them the very embodiment of justice. His daughter indeed ' He had three years before him to think of her, which meant in his acceptance of the term but a speedy riddance of her, to his own and htr best advantage, a chance to establish her well in the world in which he moved, in which his position would enable him to procure for her without much difficulty an alliance worthy of her name and rank Meanwhile he was happy, or rather contented with his lot. Had not the young King but lately said to him, when he was admitted to a private audience to The Discovery n • render homage and tender his assurances of fidelity and respect to the successor of Louis XV. ■ — "Monsieur de Pontivy, I know the services yen have rendered to France, and I ran on!v ask vou to continue them." These words had spread throu-h Wrsailles The Councillor was overwhelmed with compliments of the Icmd more acceptable to certai.i nature, for the sp.ce of envv they contain, for is not the envy of our fellows the very sign and seal of our success'' Thus the influential Abbe de Saint-Vaast the future Cardinal de Rohan, remarked to him 'some days after, whilst walking in the suite of the Oueen at Versailles, « Such words, Monsieur de Po^nin- stand you m better stead than sealed parchment." ' ' A smile of superiority, which he quickh- chan^^ed to one of patronising condescension, phvi-ed round the Councillor's lips at the thought that for a Rohan to compliment him meant that he sought something The Abbe de Saint-Vaast wished to place with some awyer in search of a seeretarv a young man who, having finished his college studies, intended to pre- pare for the Bar. "I can recommend him," said the Abbe, - as in- telligent, industrious, and of an excellent character- one of the best pup.ls of Louis-le-Grand, and recently chosen as most vvorthv the honour of wel- coimng the King and Oueen, who visiu-d the cU lege on their way to the Pantheon." 12 Robespierre " And his name r " asked iVIonsieur de Pomivv "Maximilien de Robespierre." "And may I ask your lordship's reason for the particular mterest taken in this young man ? " " Why, yes, of course I He comes from Arras and was commended to me by the bishop of that town w,th excellent testimonials from a priest of my diocese I gave him a grant for the college, and as he has succeeded so far, I shall be glad to see h,m make his way. And, after all, are we not generally interested in the welfare of those we have helped -a feeling which you doubtless understand, Monsieur de Pontivy, since it is but human ? " "I understand it so well that I will take your nominee." ^ " Into your own service ? " " Yes, into my service. Pray do not thank me. I was ,n urgent need of one, and am too glad to accept him on your recommendation." It was true, for Monsieur de Pontivy with his manifold occupations was at the moment without a secretar>^ and anxious to fill up the post so soon as he could find a worthy candidate. The ofl^er of the Abbe was doubly acceptable to him as an opportunity to oblige a Rohan, and to enlist in his service \ young man who had been chosen before all his fcllow-students as most worthy to welcome the iving and Oueen. The next day Robespierre was installed at the Hotel do Pontivy. After some preliminary ques- The Discovery 13 tions as to his parentage, his studies, his college life Monsieur de Pontivy had adroitly brought the con' versation to bear on the visit of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. The young man gave a de- tailed account, standing in a respectful attitude, his eyes lowered, and with an appearance of modesty, which to a mind less vain than that of Monsieur de Pontivy s would have suggested more s If- suHiciency than was desirable. "And the King, what did he sav ? And the yueen r ' "Their majesties did not speak to me," said the young man, rather confused. satiL^d.' " '''^'''"''^ ^°"'''"' ^' ^°"^'^>'' ''''''^^y "But the King smiled," continued Robespierre, and received me graciously." " And the Queen ? " The young man hesitated, but drawing himself up resolutely under the searching glance of the »-ouncillor, he answered — " Her Majesty was equally gracious." But he was not telling the truth, for the Queen's thoughts had been bent all the time on hastening her departure. Monsieur de Pontivy examined the young man critically. He was dressed with the utmost simplicity, but a certain air of distinction was apparent in his whole person and manners. Spruce and neat in appearance, sprightly and brisk m manner, and at the same time respectful, decision 14 Robespierre of character and firm will were written on his brow; his eyes of a pale green were restless and pierciMff' though their gleam under the ga/e of othns was vnled, and so subdued as to lend to the whole countenance an unexpected tenderness. "The young man is not so bad after all," mused Monsieur de Pontivy, and he thought he was justi- hcd .n admitting him to his table now and again Had he not been honoured with a royal ajance ^ He could by no means be looked upon as a^hance comer. A chance comer he certainly was not, as Monsieur de 1 ont.vy soon discovered by his work, quick, neat, perfectly accurate and orderly, and his method in arrangement and classification, rare in a young man of h.s years. Pursuing his huv studies, he was naturally mtercsted in the difficult and delicate ques- tions which Monsieur de Pontivy had so often to treat, elucidating them under his direction, and as- tonishing him sometimes by his sagacious remarks in which were revealed a rare instinct for solving legal subtleties. There is a certain kinship of the mind, a certain mtellectual affinity, which creates svmpathy between those who may be separated by a wide social gulf They certainly were so separated, this master and his secretary: the one jealously asserting his pre- rogative, proud of his name, of that noblesse de robe of which he was one of the ornaments, and which seeing its growing influence on the destinies of' lance ing of The Discovery r . c?'"? '"-J'uat llfj even fr. ,-n..1. use of tu> fir,, I,.. J- . ^ <-M-ii to make -h.ldren, when ,„ad with .,ief T 1 ^ >'ite, and di^ppeared in GelnV ' " °' '" •ciou. fashion. But u,> v 'p '""" "'"- ^Pons,b,e ,-o.. a., chi: n,!:; .'.r'f '^"^"•''-- - T iiat which pleased Monsieur rl^ P to hand So l,^'"^ '■"> ■■"'^"e«g c-.cything 'lim. He had -. lu-sitated to wake been forthcon.,,. Th C ' ^"""^^ '^'^ "°^ everywhere _ on'd. T ^"""^'^^^^ had looked n tne waste-paper basket. Had th^ fellow thrown it in the fire hu ■ 7 . ^"""^ distrustful, suspicion bel J TT ' ^^^""^'^ •^ind. Had Roh. ^ ^' "'^'^ '° ^^'"'^ i" his naa Kobespierre made use of ,> ? rj j u g'ven ,t to an attorney ^ Qn. ", k . ""^ ^' -^"L;i';-;:rrif:e^:f"--; ^-■>- IS never sure. ... At i6 Robespierre any rate he would ease his mi„d and ascertain ae once_ Monsieur de Pontivy looked at his watch. Three o dock! So you have kept me up till th.s hour, my fine fellow ! Now it is your turn - " of te'°h .'T" ' ^"^^^"^-'^' h^^^^^ 't at one of the chandehers, and went towards the door. The who e house was wrapped in sleep. Oh f the awful soilness of that vast house, whe;e not a sou eemed to breathe, that house with its internnnable lane" "rir f ^"' " ^"^'' '''' ^°"S, deserted ianes. Thus alone, m the silence of the night, he experienced a new sense of satisfaction fnr , , , , ^'"•'sraction, tor was not tne house abso utelv his ? F„^,„ i- • uLciy nis r iiveiy living occupant, n.^n or east^,3 at his bidding, under his siy and at this hour, when all slept under his pro^ tecnon hs proprietorship was accentuated, and he rea sed to the full that he was absolute .aster. In his long flowered dressing-gown, holding the candle- s ick aloft in his right hand, with his iron-grey head clean-shaven visage, and true judge's nose, large and' massive as if hewn in one piece, and in ktepir, wuh t e cold, hard expression of his countenanc^ he could have been taken for the spirit of avenging justice, or for some st.tue, descended from its ped! estal to carry light into the surrounding darkness. Monsieur de Pontivy crossed a long passage turned to the left, then went up three steps, and urn.ng again, found himself on a narrow staircase leading to the second floor, it was there that the young secretary slept, in a little room looking on :M :ertain at 5 watch, ne up till turn ! " it at one he door. Oh ! the 3t a soul rminable deserted night, he was not ccupant, s sway j bis pro- and he :er. In candle- 7 head, rge and keeping enance, merging ts ped- less. lassage, 3S, and aircase lat the :ng on The Discovery Receiving no answer he knoekc-d ' .''^^''>'^^'«- louder. Knocked again, somewhat •' He sleeps soundly enough " ». '^'■^^' '-^ge it comes easy " ^ ' ' "^""^'"^^^ '' " ^^ The Councillor was on the noi-n r.F ^^^^^•■all, it would be time eno.. 1 '"'"''"'"S- P^Per at hreakn^st, and le ^d " rf '' ''' '^ '''•-'k- But again those subti; '^'""'"^ liimsclf at once I A„j i, , , "^ "'"'' assure =l-ost pushine the dooV t ''"'"' '"•' "-^ g-e way, disclosing e';r ""' If^"™"' -« touched. With a r, 77 "■ ■■'"'' " ■"^J "n- "- A,.j:si:„:r s'-«'— hedthe p.ol^!::;cIt!L,;^'"■■"■"'•"^'^-Hc■l This is --ly n« the «:: T::t„r""' '°' "^ -- double-barred when younV rJ""-™' *'"''''' ^"'' of Monsieur de Pontivy ^1 P'"" '""^ '=^™ -'P^We Yes, the .b'ole It^.-r:;;^ ""^'"'^ ■o the m,sconduc, of his secreta I Th "" ''"' day the Councillor would h ,„. ' , ""^ "™ ■A and it would be at l'""*^"'""'^™ J"S. a. that n,oment wh , '""'^"'""S ^ But about to leave tl^'l: '^'°"'^"^ '^ ^"'""7 -as "at and stick >XzZ^ h"""' "/ ^™"« "^'^ y gnear. He stopped in surprise. i8 Robespierre Was Robespierre in the house, then ? Monsieur de Pontivy again looked at the bed. No, it had not been slept in. Other details struck him: the coat and vest hanging up, and the frilled waistcoat carefully folded on a chair. It was enough, — the young man had not gone out. Where was he.? In Louison's room, undoubt- edly, on the third floor ! Louison, his daughter's maid ! She was from Perigord, sprightly and'' com- plaisant, cunning enough, a veritable soubrette, with her sly ways and her round cheeks. Ah ! how stupid he had been to have taken her into the house, considering her age and bearing, scarcely twenty- two, and dark and passionate as a Catalonian. " I ought to have known as much," he said. His daughter's waiting-woman! The thought was distracting. That she should enter Clarisse's room every morning, carry her breakfast, see her in bed, assist at each detail of her toilet, fresh from the young man's embraces, his caresses still warm on her lips ! And these things were taking place under his roof! He left the room agitated but resolved. It was very simple. To-morrow she would be discharged the first thing, and he also should be turned out, the hypocrite who, with all his smiling, respectful airs, defiled his roof. He did well to get himself protected by priests, and Monsieur de Rohan, a nice present he had made! All the young man's qualities, all the satisfaction 4 The Discovery the bed. ils struck he frilled It was out. undoubt- aughter's nd com- ettc, with ^h ! how le house, twenty- n. aid. thought !)larisse's see her sh from ill warm ig place It was ;chargcd led out, spectful himself Dhan, a sfaction he had i,„ ,i ,,^^^p^^^^^ ^^^;^^ ^^.^ 9 'act. He would nol be sorry, either r„ h. , , ^ay.o,heAbbedeSaim-Vaas;_ ^"'^ me"''wel^7.''^''°:"'^ "™ ^™ -->--"ded ^^ell, 1 surprised him in the parrr^. .. vu But even lackeys respect my house.' ^''' He had now crossed the corridor anH seendins the stairs =„ll , "'°' ■'"<' «■« de- his mind Q «hears,ng the scene in He^:;tatedr;^.b:,^";;:— ^*-. ;^; ;spec. due to-^hir^o^i^rrtr: nis house, and worse «m1I u a x. ^""^'vy, to •"ought. He had now re" cheTt e'la t"S % ^ second staircase, and was mm' ^ °'^ '''^ of 'he ground flC '"^ '"'° *' -"'''- " Decidedly," he muttered, " I was mi . u .y estimate or, ha. young man.' ;^rto^'" o-"c:;\nd tHi of : r; '^^ -"^ "d cautiously closed. Some on! ^"« '""^"^ hour! Who can it be » He M t' " *' and gliding along the wall ll °"l "" ""^''=' de".y recotled, L m tl g.^ .Xr h^^' H "' 'f had recognised Robespierfe Th' ""^ advancing ouietiv in Za ''°""S ■""" "« The ,ru?r 11 u '"'°" "'■""^ stairs. endTe shatan *r"'"''"'^^''"'"S'™Mhe fontivv inTm ''"''°"°"^-™=hed on Monsieur de n"vy ■„ a moment, and stunned him like a blow. hi 20 Robespierre I: I Robespierre ha.i come from Clarisse's room » F^erythmg swam before him. He held i„ his >and the extinguished candle, with such force that tl^c bronze candlestick entered his flesh. He made ^^ movement as if to use it as a weapon, and kill the wretch there and then. At that instant the young man saw him. He turned deadly pale and tncd to escape, but Monsieur de Pontivy threw himself on h.m, and seized him by the throat. Where do you come from ? " he almost hissed. ^ he young man swayed with the shock, his knees bent under him. ^ Monsieur de Pontivy, mad with rage, repeated - VV here do you come from ? " He was strangling him. Robespierre gave a hoarse scream. " You are hurting me !" he gasped. Th .h ' '""' '"°'' °" ^°"^ --^ brains w.th th.s -brand.shing the bronze candlestick- yes, kdl you, wretch, for bringing dishonour on my house. ..." But just then Monsieur de Pontivy feh a hand laid on his arm arresting the blow. It was Clarisse, drawn by the noise, half-dressed her hair hanging in disorder down her back "Oh, father! " she sobbed, falling on her knees, as if for pardon. ' It was dishonour, yes, dishonour complete, palpable, avowed, dishonour that flowed with his oom ! cid in his force that He made 1, and kill istant the pale and vy threw )at. it hissed, his knees seated — The Discovery ou say ? d brains :stick — nour on a hand dressed, knees, 21 daughter's tears, and covered her face w.th shame The agony of the father was augmented b ZZ the head of the family, whose record of ausTer itand upnghtness was thus dragged in the mud. ' . he young man, having regained his self-posses await my order. ! " To your room, ar,a The command was aceompamed with such , gesture that Robespierre could only ober and Plenty moved to«rds the staircase. ' '' '"' 'Js::\T:"'r"'^ ^'"'■-' l-^ continued, But she lay lifeless on the floor H. k j '■•^-d her in his arms, and carr d her to hT ro7"' exhausted by herweight, he laid her ont^^^^^^^^^ The young gJH ,^^^.^^^ consciousness Sh. opened her eyes and recognised her fn.h . -b rose in her throat, sufftc::;^^/^^^^^^^^ not speak, but a word she had nor ? ten vearQ . j r ^ pronounced for " years, a word from her fa^-off rhlUh a to her lin« nn^ u childhood, came "er nps, and she murmured soffk- th. u i. tears, « Papa ! papa I " ' '' ''^'^""S^ her iiplete, ith his CHAPTER ir THE VOICE OF THE PAST Under what irresistible spell had she fallen' Through what intricate windings had the subtle poison entered the young girl's pure and innocent soul, then steeped in the fresh dew of life's dawning hopes? What sweet vision had the young man held out to her, to which she had yielded in all innocence, her eyes dreamily fixed on the vltuc un- known, and from which she had awaked, !1 pale and trembling, her heart smitten with unspeakable dismay ^ Or had they both been the puppets of Destiny, of blind Chance which at so tender an age had brought them together under the same roof, in an intimacy of daily intercourse, increased by the sadness of their cloistered existence, so that they had been the vic- tims of their extreme youth, of the attraction they unconsciously exercised over each other, both car- ried away by the strong currents of life. She, influenced by a train of incidents insignificant in themselves, rendered dangerous by repetition, de- tails of every-day life which had gradually drawn her towards the young man, whose presence at last be- came a sweet necessity to her lonely existence. The Voice of the Past 23 He, suddenly stirred during the first few days of his residence in the H6tcl Rue des Lions; never for a moment thinking of the distance which separated him from thr daughter of Monsieur de Pontivy. Think ? How could he think, thrilling under the first revelation of love disclosed to him with the eloquence of Rousseau in la Nouvelle H'elohc^ that romance of burning passion then in vogue ? He had commenced to read the novel, by stealth, at Louis-le-Grand, and fu.i-hed it in thne nights of mad insomnia, in his little room on the third floor at the Hotel de Pontivy. All the sap of his youth beat at his temples and throbbed in his veins at that flaming rhetoric ; every phrase burned like kisses on his lips. He recited portions aloud, i .rned them by heart, found them sublime in utterance He yearned to repeat them to others, as one does music. And to whom could he repeat them but to Clarisse, placed there as if expressly to hear them ? So he did re- peat them to her. At all times and everywhere when alone with her. At the harpsichord, on long winter evenings, when the guests gravely and silently played at cards, and he turned the pages of her music. Out walking, when he met her, as if by chance, and spoke to her — while the eyes of Mademoiselle Jusseaume wandered absently from them — of Paris which she knew so little, the gay fetes and gossip of the town, thus opening out to her endless vistas of happiness until then unknown, which involved promises of future joy. 24 Robespierre It He recited verses to her, pastorals, such as were then upon men's lips, mythologic madrigals made for rolhng round a bonbon. She found them charmmg, and sought to learn them by heart He copied them and gave them to her. This was a dangerous game. He became bolder, copied love- letters then wrote them himself and compared them with Rousseau's. She read them, delighted at first then trembling, and when she trembled it was too' late. She was unconsciously dragged into a world of fancy and illusion by the very strength of his youth and enthusiasm. His presence in that dull dwelling had seemed a ray of sunlight under which the bud of her young life had opened into flower. Thus a I unconscious of the poisonous mist that was more' closely enveloping her from day to day, she found herself gliding insensibly down a steep declivity which gave way under her feet as she advanced, and before she could recover possession of her senses, or stay her quick descent to question whereto it led, she was undone ! " Every girl who reads this book is lost," Rous- seau had written at the beginning of la Nouvelle Helotse. And she had done far worse. Alone given up to her own devices, just awakening to the' mystery of existence, pure, innocent, and guileless, she had imbibed its insidious poison from the lips of one she had learned to love. And now she had fallen from these dizzy heights, dazed and crushed, The Voice of the Past " Of course, i, b understood tha, what passed bo- ween us las. nigh, shall go „„ further," Monsieu, da Poru^y „ „., .,^ ^„„„^ ^^^^^^; ^^^^-r the Councilor's study at breakfast-time, « You taHe'bf ""■?"'"' '° ""' "= di-espectfully at table before the servants, and I shall beg you to leave my house." ® ' The young man listened respectfully "But I am willing to make reparation," he said. The Councilor drew back under this new alTront. are,M:nsrd7Krp;::re,"v„:°rrb-d ..2'r"''Tf^°'''^ Robespierre took place as the Counc lor desired. No one had the slightest usp,c,o„ of the real reason, and Clarisse, whf wa suffenng f.om a severe attack of brain fiver, kip, In refusing to give the hand of his daughter even djhonoured, to any one who was not of'herMr Mons,eur de Pontivy was but true to his pri c> ' :ndt::;::;de""-*'^-^^"~p.ju^dic: Could he have read the future „f the young man NKita 26 Robespierre he would not have acted otherwise, and yet that young man was destined to become one of the mas- ters of France — but at what a price and under what conditions ! 6 I) I II: Nmeteen years had passed since then, nineteen years in which events succeeded each other with a rapidity and violence unparalleled in the previous history of Europe. The excesses of an arbitrary government, added to universal discontent, had led to the Revolution. But this act of deliverance and social regeneration was unhappily to develop even worse excesses. The Reign of Terror was now raging. Louis XVI. ana Marie Antoinette had perished on the scafFold, followed by a large number of nobles and priests, victims of the tempest now at flood, and drowning in its crimson tide numberless victims with no respect of persons. The whole nation, in the country and in Paris, was perishing in the iron grasp of a new and more despotic govern- ment. Terror, monstrous parody of liberty, ruled the State, which was adrift without rudder on the storm, while all its people were driven to distraction by wild advocates of the guillotine. Prominent among these fanatics, raised to power by the very suddenness of events, was Maximilien de Robespierre, once the young secretary of xMon- sieur de Pontivy, now styled simply Robespierre, President of the National Assembly, or Convention, the most powerful and most dreaded of the twelve' I The Voice of the Past 27 conventionr^e/s who, under the name of members of the Committee of Public Safety, ruled the destinies of France. History is the romance of nations, more abundant -n w,ld improbabilities than the most extravagant fairytale; and the French Revolution stands out from the events which have perplexed the mind of man smce the world began, a still unsolved enigma The actors in this fearful drama move like bein^^s of some other sphere, the produce of a wild imagination, the ofFsprmg of delirium, created to astound and stupefy. And it was the destiny of the secretary of Monsieur de Pontivy to become one of these Still .n the prime of his life, scarcely thirty-six, he was one of the prmcipal if not the chief personage of the Revolution. However signal his success, the course of events left him unchanged. During the slow accession of a man to the summit of human aspiration, his defi- ciences are sometimes dwarfed and his powers devel- oped and strengthened ; but the foundation remains the same -just as trees which ever renew their leaves, a^d absorb from the same soil a perennial How of life. After nineteen years, marked by a succession of events so rapid, so tumultuous, and of such moment that they would have sufficed to fill a century of his- tory the secretary of Monsieur de Pontivy, whom we last saw awake to love under the influence of Rousseau, found himself, on a day given up to re- 28 Robespierre 1 r 'u n t.rement and study, at VErmitage of Montmorency, m the very room where the great philosopher wrote la Nouvelle Heldise, whose burning pages had been a revelation to his youth. He had come there to seek inspiration for the speech he was to deliver on the Place de la Revolu- tion at the approaching festival in honour of the Su- preme Being, a ceremony instituted and organised under his direction, and which had been suggested to him by the spiritualistic theories of Rousseau. It was Friday, the 6th of June, 1794, or, to use the language of the time, the 20th prairial of the second year of the Republic. Robespierre, having left Paris the evening before, had come down to skep in that quiet and flowery retreat, built at the entrance of the forest of Montmorency, like a nest hidden in the under branches of a tree. Rousseau's Ermitage, which became State property after the Revolution, had been secretly sublet to him by a friend and given over to the care of a gardener, who also acted as sole domestic during his visits,' which were very frequent. For he often fled from' Paris secretly, seeking solitude and calm, and a little of that poetry of nature in which the fiercest Revo- lutionists, his peers in crime, loved sometimes to refresh themselves in the short pauses of their fratricidal and sanguinary struggles. Robespierre descended to the garden soon after daybreak, inhaling the fresh morning air, wander- ing under the shade of those great trees where The Voice of the Past 29 Rousseau used to walk, or sitting in his favourite nooks; dreaming the while, his soul drinking to the full the infinite sweetness of Nature's magic charms, quickened into life at the rosy touch of morn. He would busy himself in rustic pursuits, botanising, or gathering periwinkles, the master's favourite flowers ; thus occupied he used to pro- long his walk into the forest of iMontmorency, which seemed but a continuation of the garden. Here, he would sometimes find friends awaiting him, an intimate circle which he was wont to gather round him to share a rustic meal upon the grass. That morning he had awakened earlier than usual, beset with ideas for his forthcoming speech, the first that he was to deliver at a public cere- mony, whose anticipated success would, like an apotheosis, deify him in the eyes of the people, and set a decisive and brilliant seal to that supremacy of power which -vas the goal of his boundless am- bition. It was important that he should finish before noon, when he had arranged an interview in the forest, a political interview of the highest importance, which would perhaps effect a chano-e in the foreign policy of France. Robespierre had slept in the very room vhich Rousseau had occupied on the first floor, and in which were gathered all the furniture and posses- sions of the great man, left behind in the haste of removal, after his famous quarrel with the fair 30 Robespierre owner of CErmitage. The bed was Rousseau's, as were two walnut cabinets and a table of the same rich wood, the very table on which the philosopher wrote the first part of la Nouvelle H'elohe ; then a small library, a barometer, and two pictures, one of which, by an English painter, represented "The Soldier's Fortune," and the other « The Wise and Foohsh Virgins." In these surroundings Robes- pierre seemed to breathe more intimately the spirit of the master for whom he had such an ardent admiration. Robespierre had passed a sleepless night, judging from his pale, feverish face and swollen eyelids Outwardly he was little changed. Monsieur de Pontivy would have recognised his former secretary in this man before whom all France trembled. It was the same dapper figure, spruce and neat as ever, with that nervous, restless manner which time had but accentuated. This nervousness, apparent in his whole person, was visible even in his face, which now deeply marked with small-pox, twitched and contracted convulsively. The high cheeJc-bones and the green, cat-like eyes, shifting about in an uneasy fashion, added to the unpleasant expression of the whole countenance. He threw open the three windows of his room, which looked out on the garden. A whifl^of fresh air fanned his face, charged with all the sweet per- fumes of the country. Day had scarcely dawned, and the whole valley of Montmorency was bathed i The Voice of the Past 31 in pale, uncertain light, like floating mist. He re- mained at one of the windows, gazing long and earnestly out on awakening nature, watching the dawn as it slowly lifted the veil at the first smiles of morning. Then he seated himself at the little table prepared for work, with sheets of paper spread about, as if awaiting the thoughts of which they were to be the messengers. He slipped his pen in an inkstand ornamented with a small bust of Rousseau, and commenced. Jotting down some rough notes and sentences, he stopped to look out of the window in a dreamy, absent manner, apparently without thought. Thirty- five years ago, amid the same surroundings, in that same room, on that very table, Rousseau had written those burning pages of romance under whose in- fluence Robespierre had stammered forth his first love tale on the shoulder of Clarisse. Did he ever think of that drama of his youth, of that living relic of his sin wandering about the world perhaps, his child, the fruit of his first love, whose advent into life Clarisse had announced to him some months after the terrible scene at the Rue des Lions-Saint- Paul ? Think ? He had more important things to trouble him ! Think indeed ! The idea had never entered his head. For many years the intellectual appetite had alone prevailed in him; — egoism, and that masterful ambition which asks no other intoxi- cant than the delirium of success, and the thought of realising one day, by terrorism even if necessarv', 32 Robespierre Utopian theories of universal equality. And yet the letter in which Clarissc had apprised him of her ap- proaching motherhood would have moved a stone: — " Dear Maximiuen, — I never thought to write to you after the solemn promise torn from me by my father, the day he declared I should never be your wife. An unexpected event releases me from my oath, and brings me nearer to you. " I am about to become a mother, "My father knows this. I thought that the announcement would conquer his resistance, but I was mistaken. My supplications were vain. " He persists unshaken in his refusal, exasperated at my entreaties, and is resolved to send me to a convent, where the innocent being whose life is already considered a crime will first sec the lio-ht. My heart bleeds at the thought of the wide gulf that must separate you from your child, orphaned before its birth. And what pain for you to have a child that you must never know ! But I will spare you this. You are the disposer of our destiny, Maximilien. We are yours. « I have some money saved, which, in addition to the kind help of Mademoiselle Jusseaume, would enable us to cross to England, where a priest of our faith will bless our union. We can return after- wards to France, if you wish ; that shall be as you judge best, for you will have no wife more sub- missive and devoted than the mother of your child. The Voice of the Past 33 "lam sending this letter to your aunt's at Arras requesting them to forward it to you. Write to me at the Poste Restante, Rue du Louvre, under the name of the kind-hearted Mademoiselle Ju.- seaume, who is reading over my shoulde, while I wnte, her eyes full of tears. Wherever 1 may b- your reply will always reach me. " I kiss thee from my soul, dear companion of my heart _ that heart which through all its sullx-rings burns with an undying love and is thine forever. " ClaRISSE Df PoNTIVV." This letter remained unanswered. Had it reached .ts destination ? Yes ; young Robespierre had actu- ally received it, eight days after, in Paris, at the Hotel du Coq d'Argent, on the Quai des Grands- Augustms, where he had hired a room after leavin. Monsieur de Pontivy's house. He had read and re-read Clarisse's letter, then, on consideration, he burnt It, so that no trace of it should be left Cla nsse's proposal was a risky adventure. What would become of them both in England when her meagre re- sources Were exhausted .^ ^^^"^"^°^^--e.? Implore Monsieur de Pontivy's pardon? A fine prospect ' He would cause the marriage to be annulled, for it was •llegal both in England and in France, as the young people were not of age. As to him, his fate was sealed in advance. He would be sent to the Bastille. And the child ? He scarcely gave a thought to it. bo much might happen before its birth ! 3 34 Robespierre This, however, was made Known to him, soon after, in another letter from Clarissc. The child ~ a boy — was born. If he did not decide to take them the child_ would be abandoned, and she sent to a convent. Robespierre licsitated, crushing the letter between his fingers, then resolutely burnt it, as he destroyed the first. Paugh ! The grand- father was wealthy. The child would not starve. Clarisse had told him that she had given him Mon- sieur de Pontivy's Christian name— Olivier. The Councillor would eventually relent. And was it not, after all, one of those adventures of common occurrence in the life of young men ? He, at least, had done his duty by offering to make reparation by marriage. Monsieur de Pontivy would not hear of it. So much the worse ! Ah I he was of mean birth, was he ! — without ancestry, without connections, without a future, . . . Without a future.? Was that certain, though .? Monsieur de Pontivy's refusal, far from humili- atmg him, gave a spur to his ambition. All his latent self-esteem and pride rose suddenly in one violent outburst. Full of bitterness and wounded vanity he finished his law studies in a sort of rage, and set out for Arras, his native place, which he' had left as a child, returning to it a full-fledged lawyer. No sooner was he called to the Bar than he came into public notice, choosing the cases most likely to bring him renown. But these local triumphs, however flattering, iim, soon rhe child le to take she sent shing the burnt it, e grand- Dt starve, m Mon- ?r. The d was it common , at least, ■ation by t hear of -without future, though ? humili- All his in one vounded of rage, hich he -fledged Jar than ?s most ttering, The Voice of the Past 35 only half-satisfied his ambition. He cared little or nothing for provincial fame. He would be also foremost in the ranks of those who followed with anx.ous mterest the great Revolutionary movement now astir everywhere, in the highways and byways of France, with its train of new ideas and aspirations. Robespierre took part in this cautiously and adroitly reservmg ample margin for retreat in case of future' su-pnses, but already foreseeing the brilliant career that politics would thenceforth offer to ambition At the Convocation of the States-General, the young lawyei was sent to Versailles to represent nis native town. Success was ■^t l.n .k • , • . . OUH.LSS was, at length, within his grasp. He was nearing the Court, and about o p unge into the whirl of public affairs, in which he bought to find an avenue to his ambitL And yet he did not succeed all at once. Dis concerted, he lost command of himself, became im- patient and excited by extreme nervousness. He had developed such tendencies even at Arras and time seemed only to increase them. In the chamber of th States-General, still ringing with the thunder- ous eloquence of Mirabeau, the scene of .iant con- tests of „,en of towering mental stature, R;bespierre vain y essayed to speak. He was received 'with mockery and smiles of ridicule. He appeared puny and grotesque to these colossal champions of Liberty' tw tch falsetto voice, his petty gestures, his nervou' w tches anti grimaces, more like a monkey who had lost a nut than a man. ^ 36 Robespierre hi Hut Robespierre's colleagius vvcn.Id have ceased the.r raillery perhaps had they gone deeper into the m<.t> ves and character of the man, and sounded the subtle intricacies of his M,t,l. '['hrv would have found in those depths a resolute desire to accomplish Ihs a,m, an insatiable pride j„ined to the conridence -f .iu apostle determined to uphold his ou'n doctrines and to promote theories of absolute e.p.ality, and of a return to the ideal state of natLue. Thev would have perhaps discovered that this ambitious fanatic was capable of anything, even of atrocious crime, to realise his dreams. The in.petuous tribune Alirabeau had said at Versailles: -That man will go tar, for he believes •n what he sa,s," Mirabeau ought to have said, " He believes in himself, and, as the effect of his mad vanity, he looks upon everything he says as gospel truth." And in this lav his very strength. 1 his was the source of his success, founded on that cult of self, and a confidence in his own powers cai-iicd to the point of believing himself infallible Through all the jolts and jars of party strife, the thunder and lightning contest., the eager enthusiasm or gloomy despondency, the grand and tumultuous outpourmgs of the revolutionarv volcano through all this hideous but sublime conflict, and amid dissen- sions of parties swarming from the four corners of France, tearing each other to pieces like wild beasts Robespierre cunningly pursued a .tealthy course sinuously ingratiating himself now with the more' The Voice of the Past 37 Speech Words Robcs- Duiinc advanced, now with th, mmc modnat, faithful u, his original plan and pohcy. ^Vnnh ! Rhetoric ' these were his arm^. was nut incriminating, hut actions were, were forgotten, actiu„^ li\al as facts, an< pierre kept as clear „f these as possible. >he most startling manifestations of that horriiilc revolutionary struggle, he was never seen, though the ^vork of his hand could he traced everywhere, for far from ret.nng he carried fuel to the flame,,, knowing well that every one would he swallowed up in the fratricidal strife. When the danger was o;er and vic- tory assured, he would re-appear fierce and agitated thus creating the illusion that he had taken part in the' last battle, and suffered prr - ,alh ,n the contest. Where was he at the msurrection of Paris, the roth of August, 1792, when the populace invaded the Tudenes, and hastened the fall and imprison- ment of the Kina, whom they sent to the scaffold some months later.? Where was he a few da-s later, the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th of September, when armed bands wandered through Paris, forcing the prison doors, and butchering the hostac^e. ? Where vvas he during the riots of Februarv,'^ 1 793, when the famished populace prowled about Paris askinc. for bread? Where was he the evening of the is'^ of May, when eighteen thousand Parisians assailed the National Convention to turn out the traitor deputies ? Where was he two days after, on the 2na or (une, wlv-n the insurrr-r-flz-vr. - t < ' - '■"^ insurrection rccommeiiced .? y 38 Robespierre Hidden, immured, barricaded, walking to and fro like an encaged tiger-cat, excited and agitated, shaken with doubts, cold beads of perspiration standing on his forehead, breathless to hear any news which his agents and detectives might bring him, and only breathing freely again when the result was known. For this man was a coward. And was this known ? No I Not then ! All that was known was what he wished to make public ; that he was poor, that he was worthy in every respect of the title of"Incorruptible" given to him by a revolutionist •n a moment of enthusiasm. And, in truth, he was free from any venal stain, and knew that in this lay the greater part of his strength. What was also known was that he was temperate and chaste. His private life, from the time he left Versailles with the States-General to come to Paris and install himself in a humble lodging in the Rue de Faintonge, would bear the closest scrutiny He hvea there frugally and modestly, his only resource being the deputy's fees of eighteen francs a day, part of which he ostentatiously sent to his sister at Arras Then suddenly he established himself in the house of Duplay the carpenter, in the Rue Saint-Honore a few steps from his club, the Jacobin Club; or' more properly speaking, he was established there by force, by the carpenter himself, an ardent admirer of his, who took advantage of a chance hospitality dur- ing the riots to press him to remain indefinitely. He occupied a room under their roof where he had The Voice of the Past 39 now lived a year, surrounded by the jealous care of the whole family, in republican simplicity, after the true patriarchal manner. All this was well known, or if it had not been Robespierre would have proclaimed it, for from this Spartan setting an atmosphere of democratic virtue enveloped him, and raised him in solitary state above his fellows. Yes, he was above them ! Others gave them- selves away, but he never ! Others had revealed their characters in unguarded moments, and laid bare to the world their frailties and their virtues. He had never betrayed himself, for he never acted on impulse. The others were well known to be made of flesh and blood, of idealism, and dust, but who knew the real Robespierre? The very mystery and doubt in which his true character was wrapped had lent credence to the common rumour which attributed to him supernatural qualities. He was compared to the pure source, high among virgin snows, from which the Revolution sprung. He stood alone on his pedestal, inaccessible, un- assailable. All the great leaders of the Revolution, his predecessors or his rivals, had disappeared, car- ried off in the whirlwind, victims of their exagger- ated enthusiasm, as Mirabcau and Marat, or*^ of Robespierre's treachery, as Danton and Camille Desmoulins, ground in the sanguinary mill of the Revolutionary Tribunal, on his sole accusation. Thus when hie. p^th was cleared of those who 4° Robespierre stood „,„s,,n hi, ,,,,,^ h, ^^^. ^^^ he .hould hoU ,he destiny of France in his hand and .he whole a™ed force g,.ovelling a, his fee. Ye, one obstacle remained to be surmounted • the Comm,ttee of Public Safety to whom the Conven- ::: "^^ ^^r' "-^ ^""^°'"^' -"^ °f -^ch he »as a member, bu, where he felt a terrible under- current of animosity directed against him either '"" • T'"' '^'""=^P'='- '""-d 'ha, he must either cajole or conquer them. For if ,hey were c-rbed and reduced ,o silence, he would have al power absolutely in his own hands. The hour was approachmg. . was necessary ,„ s,ril:e a decisive hicw, and he though, to have found the means to do so, and to overawe the Committee, at his Festival of the Supreme Being, which would take place in a eouple of days, when he would speak to the assem- bled mul,„ude, and dominate his colleagues in his qual..y o President of the Convention.'a po: b hd sought ,n or er to have an opportunity to asser, mself a. , ,s lay ceremony, .his parody of the rc-l,g,ous celebrations of the old regime H,s intention was .o confirm in public, amid the acclamations of the populace, the religion of a new God, whose existence he bad just proclaimed _ the God of Na.ure, a stranger to Christianity, borrowed entire from Rousseau's famous pages in /, r,W„ S..^.r, Robespierre's sectarian Lperamen, e^ perienced a deeper satisfaction than he had perhaps n The Voice of the Fast 41 ever felt, at the thought that he was to declaim, among flowers and incense, those empty, sonorous phrases which he was writing on the little walnut table where his master had found some of his most burning inspirations. He became in his own eyes the high priest of the Republic, offering incense on the altar of his own superhuman sovereignty. Yes Robespierre could already hear the enthusiastic ap- plause of the multitude ' Who would dare to stand m his way after such public consecration m the immense Phc: .^e la Revolution, where for a week past the pi" ■■:■ wns being prepared. Such was the man shadowed by Destiny, the fur- ther course of whose chequered career, with its starthng incidents, we are now to follow. Robespierre had just finished his first discourse for he was to deliver two. He closed it with a' menace. « People," it ran, " let us under the au- spices of the Supreme Being give ourselves up to a pure joy. To-morrow we shall again take arms agamst vice and tyrants ! " This was his note of warning to those who, he felt, ranged themselves against him. Completely satisfied with himself, he read and re-read his sen- tences, stopping to polish periods and phrases, or seeking graceful and sonorous epithets. One pas- sage especially pleased him, for a breath of/. ^,W,, Savoyard seemed to pervade it. He spoke of the presence of the Supreme Being, in all the joys of 42 Robespierre f I Mc «. 'sHe,"hesaid,«whoaddsacharmto the brow of beauty by adorning it with modesty j it 15 He who fills the maternal heart with tenderness and joy; ,t is He who floods with happy tears the eyes of a son clasped in his mother's arms." Robes- pierre smiled at the music of the phrasing which in his pedantry he thought his master would not have disowned. But he stopped. After all, was it not a reminis- cence of k Vicaire Savoyard? Perhaps he had made use of the same metaphor as Rousseau .? He would be accused of feeble imitation ! This could be easily ascertamed, as the book was near at hand, in the little bookcase that once belonged to the master. He had but to take it from the case. The key was in the lock, but it resisted, though he used all his , strength. Growing impatient, he was about to break open the door, but paused as though this would be sacrilege, and at last sent for the gardener. " This lock does not act, does it ? " he said. The gardener tried it in his turn, but with no better success. " It is of the utmost importance for me to have a book which is in there," said Robespierre, visibly annoyed. ^ " That can be easily managed, citizen ; there is a locksmith a k^ steps from here, on the road to the forest. I will go and fetch his apprentice." The gardener -an downstairs, and Robespierre returned to his work. He was soon aware of foot- charm to lodesty^ it tenderness y tears the Robes- ; which in not have a reminis- had made He would 1 be easily id, in the master. key was :d all his about to •ugh this gardener, aid. with no to have -, visibly there is road to :e." espierre af foot- The Voice of the Past i 43 s.eps advancing I, ^as the gardener returning with the apprentice. ° "This way, citizen," said the gardener. back ,1 T """, ""''"^- R<'''«Pi--= had his spiVatiln h™' "°''""'"' '"""'^'^ ^W in- P ration having occurred to him, which he was shaping into a sentence. After they had tried several keys the door yielded at last Thanks!" said Robespierre, still bendin» over his work, and absorbed in his sentence Suddenly the sound of a voice floated up through the casement : "^ ■■uugn " Pelits oisea-,x de ce viant bocage. . . .- It was the young apprentice teturning home across th garden, s.nging. R„b„p,.„„ ^ " wr ting vaguely surprised. He had h ard that a before! But where.' When' This he n fpll T» L , ■ "'^ "^ cou d not ell. It ^as the echo of a distant memorv H. turned his head slowly in the A' °'^- ^^ cadence, but the song hL Jl ''^^"'°" °^ '"^ The fleeting impression was soon effaced ,-d denceTo::;.'; "^ *""'■ f-So"e„ the c;,„;' case T kin! R '°™'* '"^ ""^ ""en book- .Cwrrt"!'!:::-:.:'™^^^"''"^^"" and miserable hei '"'"''' ' """■= feeble --;-i::f.;:x:ed-of;:;':;r:::d^ protection, as a child ? " H ! P^V> caie, and ' «cn"d. He passed over two chap- 44 Robespierre From my 3 outh upwards, I have respected ' ' riage as the nrsran^i. r • • '^^spected mar- fe me nrst and holiest institution of nature Now he would find it. The nhr- l ' ' ' -uld not be much n.rther-\' " ^™^^ sight • « I see r ^ • n '''"" '^^^^■"^d ^is g"^- i see God ,n all His works I feel H" presence n me [ ser H;,^ • i. ^'* . ', ""^^ ^'"^ "1 aJI my surroundines " fuliy .ieveloped. S. Lgt'd re rri' ' ""^ 10 his place. assured he returned phrase he tlie end. f ion of his the text : -ted mar- ■ 4 -ure . . ." '1 - wanted °ered his 1 feel His indings." ere was inted at 3d more returned CHAPTER HI THE ENGLISHMAN These words of Rousseau read before the open '■'ookcase, suggestive as they were of voices from the past still echoing through his memorv, had no meaning for him. They kindled no spaik in the dead embers of his conscience to reveal the truth And yet .t was a warning from heaven -_ a moment of grave and vital import in the life of this man who had he not been blinded by an insane ambition 'ti.ght have recognised in the passin, stranger a messenger of f'ate. For the voice which had distracted him from h.s work was the voice of Clarisse, and the ycun. apprent.ce who had just left him was his son The outcast child, now grown to manhood, had been w.thm touch of his own father, but unseen by him. No mysterious affinitv had drawn them together though the voice had vaguelv troubled him as he returned to his work. The young man on leaving /'£;v..V.^. took the path that led to the for...st. He was a fine, stoutlv bu-lt lad, w,th a brisk lively manner, strong and 'supple, reveahng in spite of his workman's garb an 1 46 Robespierre a,r of good breeding which might have perhaps be- trayed h,s origin to a keen observer. His hair was dark brown, his blue eyes looked out from the sun- burnt and weather-beaten face with an expression of extreme sweetness, and his full lips smiled under a downy moustache. He walked w'th rapid strides, a hazel stick in his hand, towards the forest, which he soon reached, threading the paths and bypaths with the assurance of one to whom the deep wood and Its intricate labyrinths was familiar. He slack ened his pace now and then to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, keeping to the more shady side of the way, for the sun, already high in the heavens, shed Its rays in a burning shower through the leaves scorching the very grass in its intensity. At last' overcome by the heat, he took off his coat and hung It at the end of the stick across his shoulder Presently he turned into an avenue of oak sap- lings through which a green glade was visible, an oasis where refreshing coolness told of the presence of running water. Here he shaded his eyes with his hands to make out a form outlined against the distance, and a smile lit up his face as he recognised the approaching figure. Hastening his steps he called out " Therese ! " A fresh, clear voice answered " Good morning, c ;livier ! Good morning I " as a young girl came towards him with outstretched hands. Sne was tall and lithe, of a fair, rosy com- m rhaps be- hair was the sun- xpression "d under J strides, it, which bypaths ep Wood e slack- ipiration idy side leavens, ' leaves, '^t last, id hung ik sap- ible, an resence s with 1st the •gnised ■ps he The Eng-lishman 47 ! as itched com- plexion, and wore a peasant's dress from which the colour had long since faded. She advanced rapidly, now and then replacing with a quick, graceful move- ment the rebel locks of fair hair that caressed her cheeks, all in disorder from the air and exercise. "You bad boy ! Auntie and I have been quite anxious about you; but where do you come from ? " For only answer the young man kissed her up- turned forehead, and allowed her to take the stick at the end of which his coat still hung. " And where is mamma ? " he asked, continuing to walk on. "Why, here, of course!" called another voice, a woman's also, gay and joyous as the other, but more mellow in tone, and Clarisse's head appeared above the tall grass. Instantly the young man was in his mother's arms, and seated by her side on the trunk of a fallen chestnut lying parallel with the stream, which in his haste he had cleared at a bound, discarding the assistance of the little bridge of trees of which the young girl was more prudently taking advantage. "Ah! my poor Olivier I What anxiety you have caused us ! Why are you so late .? And after being out all night, too .? " " Did you not know that I should not be back ? " the young man asked, looking at his mother. "Yes, but we expected you earlier this morning." " It does certainly seem as if it had happened on purpose," he said, as he explained to them why he 48 Robespierre was so late, and he went on to tdl them how he had been kept at the last moment by his employer for some pressing work at Saint-Prix, a little villa-e then in full gala, and distanr ,bout a league from the forest. The Democr: tic Society of the district had joined for this occasion with the Montmorency Society, and there were of course masts to put up, u stand to erect, or rather to improvise, for everything was behindhand. Olivier had been told ofF to fi^ iron supports to the steps raised for the convenience of the populace. They had worked, he said, till late in the night by candle light, and in the morn- ing, when he was preparing to come home, he had to go to I'Ermitage to open a bookcase, just to oblige the gardener who was such a good fellow, though the tenant ... " Who is he? " interrupted Clarisse, always fear- ful and uneasy at the thought of her son going to a stranger's house. " I don't know at all," replied Olivier. « I only know that he did n't even disturb himself to thank ■iiiQ. They have nretty manners, these Republi- cans ; the old aristocracy were at least polite." But his mother stopped him. " Oh, hush I Do not speak like that j suppose you were heard ! " And, putting her arms round his neck, as if to shield him from some possible danger, she asked him what news he brought from the workshop. "Nothing but the same string of horrors at Paris, The Englishman 49 ig i- and it was even said that the number of victims had sensibly increased." Carried away by his subject, he detailed to the two women scraps of conversation overheard that night at the village of Saint-Prix. As he spoke, Marie Therese, now seated near him on the grass, with his coat spread before her, silently smoothed out the creases, and his mother drank in every word with breathless attention. Nothing was left of the Clarisse of sixteen but the velvet softness of the blue eyes, and the sweet charm of their expression, with all the pristine freshness of a pure soul still mirrored in their depth. The thin, colourless face seemed modelled in deep furrows, and the fair hair was already shot with silver. Though poorly clad in ^he dress of a peasant, she also might have betrayed her better birth to a practised observer by her white hands, with tapered fingers and delicate wrists, and by the supple grace of her bearing. But who could regard as an aristocrat this poor woman, almost old, shelter- ing under her maternal wing the stout young work- man, with his resolute air and hands blackened at the forge ? She now went under the name of Durand, as did her son and her niece, Marie Therese, who passed as the child of her brother-in-law. The young girl was, in reality, the daughter of her own brother, the young student of the College of Navarre, who had been killed the preceding year in Vendee, fighting in 50 ft Pi' Robespierre : 1 i;' the ranks of the Chouans, in the Royalist cause. Clansse's husband also met his fate at one of these sanguinary combats, for he was so dangerously wounded that a few days after he had been secretly conveyed to London he died in great agony. For Clarisse had been married, and was now a widow. And her past: it could be written in a page —a little page; yet in writing it her hand would have trembled at every line. Deserted by her betrayer, receiving no reply to her letters, she realised, when too late, his cold egoism and ambition. She had been separated from her child, who was born in the retirement of a little village of J3auphin6, whither her father had taken her, and had been immediately confided to the care of peasants, where she was allowed to visit him once a fortnight, subject to a thousand precautions imposed by Monsieur de Pont ivy. And yet, with all this weight of sadness, Clarisse retained her native grace. Misfortune had but added charm to her delicate and melan- choly beauty. It sometimes happened, though very seldom, that she was obliged to accompany her father into society. On one of these rare occasions she attracted the notice of a young captain of the Queen's Guards, Monsieur de Maulu9on, who sought her society assiduously, fell in love with her, and asked Mon- sieur de Pontivy for her hand. ''alist cause. ne of these dangerously ccn secretly my. was now a a page — a vould have r betrayer, list'd, when She had )orn in the le, whither nmediately e she was subject to jnsieur de sadness, t^isfortune id melan- Idom, that to society, acted the 5 Guards, er society :ed Mon- The Hnglishman 51 "Your offer docs us much honour," the Coun- dor had replied, " but I should wish you to see 'Iadenio,selle de Pontivy herself, before renewin. your request to me." ^ And Monsieur de Pont.y noui.d the fact to Uar.sse the same even.^ ,v.th characteristic formL.ity : "Monsieur ,le .Vhulu^on,- he said, "whose ■ fe.,o„, „ appears, y„„ have won, has done me l.e honour o asking for your hand. I gave him eo understand that you alone would dispose of ir. He w,ll be here to-morrow afternoon to confer with you. I do not know if he pleases you, bu, th.s I know, that ,f you wish to aecept his offer you must lay before him the story of your past. And I need not tell you that if, after this, he Fr>.sts ,n making you his wife, you can rely on my consent." ^ "It shall be as you wish, father," Claris- c answered. v..a.;^.c That open nature, which was her most touching rat made her tather's attitude seem quite natural could ha" "''";;'"'"'' ■'" ""--^ «= P°"-y could have spared her the .hame of this avowal bv easly confessed than our own, Clarisse only fel, ha, avmgmflicted a wrong on her father, she wa in duty bound to expiate it. And, in truth, „ did r ™'' '■"J" "'-h to ntake the confess on ,0 Monsteur de .Maulu^on as it would to have broken 52 Robespierre it to any other, for he had from the firsr inspired her with unbounded confidence. She had read a manly generosity in the kindly expression of his frank, open face. She would never have dreamt of becommg his wife, but since he had offered himself why not accept the proffered support of so strong an arm ? She well knew in her lonely existence that her father would never be the loving friend and protector that, in the utter weakness of her betrayed and blighted womanhood, she had yearned for through so many long days ! But her child, her little Olivier, would he be an obstacle ? At the thought her eyes filled with tears. What did it matter ? She would only love him the more, the angel, and suffering would but bind them closer together ! However, it was now to be de- cded, and both their destinies would be sealed, for she well knew that if Monsieur de Maulu^on drew back after her confession, all prospects of marriage would be over, for never again could she so humil- iate herself, though she could bring herself to it now, for she had read a deep and tender sympathy m her lover's eyes. And, .fter all, w-^at mattered It if she were not his wife ? She would at least remam worthy of his pity, for he could not despise her. Her confession would create a tie between them which he would perhaps remember later on when her httle Olivier engaged in the battle of hfe. When Monsieur de Maulu9on came again to her, -I rsc inspired had read a iion of his s dreamt of red himself so strong ' existence friend and ~r betrayed ?arned for 1 he be an with tears. re him the bind them to be de- sealed, for 9on drew marriage so humil- self to it sympathy mattered 1 at least )t despise between later on, battle of in to her, The Englishman 53 innocent of all suspicion, he found her grave and deeply moved. In a few brief words she laid bare to h.m the history of her past, and he was too hi.'^- souled, too strong and generous, to feel anything but an immense pity for a heart of exquisite sensibility, wrecked by its own confiding impulses, misunder- stood, misled, and then forsaken. He took both her hands in his and pressed them to his lips respectfully. "And the child," he said; "whose name does he bear? ' " ^,^^-0^'-'>'-- Olivier is my father's Christian name. ol ^"m ' T"' ^"'' " "'"^' • ^' "'" g'^- him o-'rs. Maulu^on is as good as Pontivy " " How can that be ? " Clarisse answered, think- ing she must be dreaming. " Do you mean you will adopt my child ? ... Oh I Monsieur I Monsieur!.. " and she stammered incohe'ren; words of gratitude, struggling with an emotion which seemed to strangle her. "I also have a Christian name "-and he bent She turned towards him with a wan smile, and as h^e ^^ooped to kiss his affianced bride she melted into The child was just two years old. The young couple took him with them in their travels. They then established them.clvcs at Pontivy, near the 54 Robespierre m ' 1 grandf,,he.,„ho had softened towards his daughter fre,ue„MorMo„sie.deZC: ~^^^^^^ r absence. He now devoted himself to Olivier'^ education, who was growing up a bnght fra^. ' L afFeaionate bov. Kxcent M ■ ^"^' ^'^^"•^^ and Clarisse-s brother Ja" s n^r'""' K 'T'' ""' knew the story of ,,i, r"" '•"'■hemselves .cent, r,:, ,„ ^^^ ^ {^-e . whod,ed, however, some months after giving W h whef tr^R '"r" '^ " '''^' "p™ "■' p°- — . B ' R«'olut,on broke out. facgue, He Pon..y, who had intended to succeed hlf , „ Parhat^ent, seeM,g the Royal Family menaced en ered the army, which Monsieur de Mauh C, 'had" also rejomed. Both endeavoured several t m s „ g.ve open proof of their loyal sentiments. Thev covered the flight of Louis XVI and M ' J' nette, and were nearlv taken i , '^"""■ King and Queen . thlir t .J ; ^rr'an" l^ next year they were obliged t'o fly ft::" K^n:' ; .he Royahst cause w,th all then, energy and devor: Clarisse, who had remained at Paris with her hus band dunng those stormy times, now rejoined her" his daughter haby charm became less order better mited leave to Olivier's ^ frank, and S^ontivy and themselves le Pontivy, n his wife, iving birth is much as or woman, icques de father in naced, en- iJ^on had times to s. They ie Antoi- St of the , and the mce, and to serve devotion her hus- ned her The Englishman 55 father at the Chateau de Pontivy, with Olivier and little Marie Therese. 'v.er and Mo.,sieur dc Pontivy, whose he.lth was fast fail- ing, was struck to the heart by the rapid march of events and the sudden collapse of all his most cher- isnecl surroundings. " There is nothing left but ,„ die," he would say »,™.,„K.s looking on with ind.ftrenee at the vai^ a ten,p,s of h,s son and son-in-law, whose firm faith and enthusiasm he no longer understood, tired and disgusted as he was with everything Another tie which bound Ciarisse to France was the charge of the two children. Almost grown up now, they were still too young to be expoL to the oanger o> travelling in such uncertain fimes, when •he frontiers were scarcely guarded, and Fran e wa commttted to a course which had estranged her from the nations of Europe. Bu, when Ciarisse heard that Monsieur de Mau- uvon an her brother were on the eve of lea! ng London , or Southampton to rejoin the royal am' in Vendee, she hesitated no longer ^ Confiding the children to their grandfather's care he left Pontivy, „„ ,,,,,j ,„ London, to find her' husband and brother at the house of a mutual f,l Benjamin Vaughan, whose acquaintance .hey ad made at the AmenVan V^t ■ ,^ . ^ tion on rh ^'"''" ^""^'^''y '" I'aris, at a recep- t.on on the anniversary of the United States Inde pe^Kl^nce and with whom they had become Intima ] But Clar,sse had hardly rejoined her husband, II 56 Robespierre licr husband n, a parting kiss. It was to be their last. Misfortune followed misforrune with ..tr. a- nnjj.v,, ^ T • ^^" astoundins conveyed .0 London with o.her wound.d ^^ nd ,n »p„e of ,he „a,ernal „.elcon,e and ca he' found under ,he .oof „f che faithful friend who had wa,. „ce,ved .hen, wi.h open a™, he died .he of h,s wounds. Clarisse learn, her double bereav -n. a. .he „n,e when her fa.her was brea.hi^g his J"ft:r"""°"^"''=''=-p'^-'"'^« Pros.ra.ed by .his double blow, she was for some me a. death's door. When she came .0 herself r:hid:rT'"'''.^"''""''^^-=''>^'--- iicr cniiuren — for Mqi-;,^ n^w ^ Jui Mane 1 herese, now doublv rphaned was more her child .han ever-sea.ed^^ her beds,de awau.ng i„ unspeakable anxie.y her re- z::/r"'"r:- ^'-^ "- ---o u and covered them with kisses. . "^°"^°Je yourselves," she said, «I shall live since you are here." ^' telling her words she ice almost Je soul to stounding cques de lined the ques was sieur de secretly royalists, care he vho had ed there bereave- hing his in that r some herself he saw doubly ated at lier re- ?r, and I live, The En<:^lishman SI At this moment a man advanced smilingly towards her, his eyes glistening with, tears of joy. " Leonard ! " she said, " you here ? " It was an old servant of Monsieur de Pontivy, who had come in all haste from Montmorency, where he lived, to attend the funeral of his late master. "Ah!" he cried, "Madame can rest assured Leonard will not leave her till she is herself again." " Then I shall remain ill as long as possible " she replied laughing, and she held out her hands to him. Her convalescence was short, and as soon as she was on her feet again she began to think of the future. But Leonard had already thought of this. " You cannot remain here," he said. " Your name, your connections, your fortune — everything de- nounces you, and exposes you to the ill-treatment of so-called patriots. You must leave Pontivy." " Go ? But where ? " asked Clarisse, " Abroad ? I have already thought of that, but how can I reach the frontier with my young people without passport, and without guide ? " "The surest way to find shelter ami safety is to remain in France," Leonard answered. « Listen to my plans. I have a cottage hidden among the trees in a little hollow of the forest of Montmorency. The place is lonely and little frequented. You can take it in a borrowed name as my tenant. An honest couple, well known to me, a gardener and f^ f 1 58 Robesp lerre l>is wife, wll] assist in the house anJ ,„ .: , • "O" of the httle p,o, of Krou„d '• „ Je^ " you ean place your so, .ith ™e . 7 '"'""'' '•■" o„e of the „,ost i„fl en" " "T"""' ' Democratic Society of ^ "''"■'"^ "^ '1"^ Hge is there/ote ! '^'""""'-^"cy. K,^ p,,,„„. p'"c,p,„/o,:v:>:;;;r:, :''t^':'- ''r ''•'■"" •'no dinner ,,„i ,.,. . I '""^ "'"J" "'g'« times." ' """"'™- '^''^' «"^ will await Setter Clar'sse consented iayfullv ,,„i :„ ■ , , l^ie.n,i,y .nstinLilrth::::;?':/;;;;,;^; -ni .■ooflr:;:;tu ;: \x rr - inc events nappeninfr if u. ; c , ° " accounts of th ■ -^ ^'■'"" ^^^ harrowing .^e two „ome„ „ith fctl'Jd,::""'^ ''' '"'' "' cbseu:;r'w:e:"'7;"V"^^"''"^^f™""- ■Iveranc: souTd ;r;: J ^ l^;-"-"" °f de. think. She tremhic/ ""■"<* dared not k" ehildrenwt .^"'''nr'"'' '°^ "" ™" ^^ already.ook;,rot;iytr^i:,hf°^'''>*^" of the workshon „ f '^ '" ^''^ ^^''^^'-sations c.arissedidtt"t;n:,:;r;i;"-'''-''°"^^ she met her son % , TT ! morning whe , al.houghshehadV: *r;jtl'=''\"''''^^^^^^^ •ivvaie that he would . .e- The Enirlishman n the cultivi^ »'ert suspicion, ppientice, 1 nbris of the J^'y patron- 1^ ''publican and remain - every niglit await better ht days the of the for- lley thickly s formed a J'ourteen taring only harrowing ^h her son le sleep of from that all of de- dared not ■ own and alJ, who i'ersations estation:. ing wh^- ! 59 turn. So when the household duties were over she had come long before the time fixed, to wait for him, as she often did, in that green glade which opened on to the path he was wont to take. When she saw him in the distance she used to beckon to )Hm,anticipaing the joy of reunion; all a mother's tenderness smiling in her eyes and on her lips. Clarisse now hoped that, having been out all night, Olivier would not assist at the/IV^. But she was mistaken, for he took his coat from Marie Therese and prepared to go. "What! you are not going to spend the day with us? " " Now ! " replied Olivier coaxingly. « You don't really mean it. And what about the y?/^ ? You know well my absence would be noticed. All the youth of Montmorency will be there. But I pro- mise you to return for supper. At all events I have an hour before me. Let us have a crust and some wine." Clarisse rose from her seat, and Marie Therese helped the lad on with his coat; then all three went .n the dnection of the little bridge, but Olivier re- traced his steps directly. He had forgotten his stick. Stoopu.g to pick it up, he heard some one near h.m softly asking the way, and looking up, he found h.mself in the presence of a stranger, who pointed to a signpost knocked down by the wind, and from which the writing was defaced. " Which of these cross-roads leads to La Chevre ? " he asked. 6o Robesp lerre " This one," Olivier answered. The stranger thanked him, but at the sound of h.s voice, Clarisse, who had been listening, turned, and as she came nearer she gave a cry of joy. " Is it possible I You here, Vaughan ! " and she came towards him with outstretched hands. The man's face lighted up with joy as he turned to greet her : " Madame de IVIaulu9on ! " « Hush ! " she said, then lowering her voice, she introduced the two young people, who, surprised at first, smiled and shook hands with this friend of the.r family, whose name they had so often heard at Pontivy and Paris. In a kw words Clarisse ex- plained to the newcomer their circumstances, point- ing out the peasant's cottage hidden among the trees where they lived away from the outside world As' she spoke her voice trembled, and she could with difficulty restrain her tears, for the man before her had held her dying husband in his arms. It was he who had heard his last words, closed his eyes, and sent Clarisse the terrible news. She longed to question him, but was restrained by the presence of the children. So when Marie Therese, who with a woman's instinct felt they had sad and serious things to say to each other, asked if they might eaye them, Clarisse thanked her with an eloquent look. ^ "That is right, children," she said, "go on 5 we will rejoin you presently." I ;A The Englishman 6i sound of ig, turned, joy. and she he turned I'oice, she irprised at friend of :en heard irisse ex- °s, point- the trees, rid. As uld with fore her t was he ■yes, and nged to presence 'ho with serious ' might ;loquent on; we Alone with Vaughan, her eyes filled with tears ; she overwhelmed him with questions, which he an- swered with exquisite delicacy, softening every pain- ful detail. Clothing his words considerately in a mist of generalities, he guided the conversation with infinite tact, avoiding some points, putting others in his turn, and finally he spoke of the agreeable im- pression that Olivier and Marie Therese had pro- duced on him. "What a pretty couple they would make!" he said ; " but I suppose you have already destined them for each other ! " Now she could smile. He continued — " Oh ! I saw that at once. I congratulate you. And when is the wedding-day ? " Alas, how could she know ? Under this abomin- able Government, marriage in the church had been abolished, and were they even to satisfy themselves with a civil contract the mayor would demand their birth certificates. These were no longer in her possession^ even had she wished to produce them. And where were they ? " I have them," replied Vaughan. She looked at him in astonishment. He then explained to her how he had found them among a bundle of papers which her husband liad been sorting, i'l .)rder to burn the most compro- mising, when death > /ertook him. He — Vaughan, the confidant of his last moments — had completed this task. Am.ong the letters, acts, and accounts. #. i^^ fil / il 62 Robes]. iJierre relating ch.efly to politics and the d-'^^rent mov. ments of the Chouans and ... e^.granTs he L" " i will now make a confes>;lnn " i, • . "The work of classification has put me in n session of a family secn-f \ I ' '" I have to r.. ""^^ ''^" W^--^ ^hich have to return to you are the birth and baptismal certificates of Olivier." "aptismal Clarisse looked at him anxiouslv I r ■ . after a pause- a">c'ousI). He commued " In glancing over these I perceived thit Ur.rh she"aflc"ed?","'r'"'°" '''' '"" '"^ f""" ">-' " sne asked, resolved t.; i„,,r ,he „o,s.. , ' !?' ':>' y™^ "'""^g'^ wiih Monsieur de Mau lufon Ohv.er was then made legi.in,..- a pti;:?trrrer':;r ,^ quite calm and self-possessed — ?on, but he ,s not h,s son ... he is mine " ■rent move- its, he had isignificant, L' had I;n\| continued, t suddenly le i/i pos- ters which baptismal crontinucd )oth were larriage." said too 1 this ? " le JVIau- id such nd, the J ! d, now Vlaulu- The Englishman 6^ Vaughan made a gesture as if to prevent her con- tinumg. He knew too much now. Deeply affected and embarrassed, he murmured a confused apology overcome with admiration before this woman, who so frankly confessed her shame rather than let suspi- cion rest for a moment on a husbai,d whose memory she revered. She led her companion to the trunk on which she had been sitting with her son, and asking h.m to listen to her story, she told of her youthful folly, her isolated life, he. fall, and the cowardly de- scrrion of the young secretary, whose name, however she roncealed ; then of the noble generosity oi Mon- sieu. Je Maulnvon, who had effaced the past by adoptmp as his own her son. "Ouvicr knows nothing, of course.?" asked Vaughan. "Absolutely nothing. He thinks he is Monsieur de MauIu9on's son." Vaughan took both her hands in his. « You have suffered much," he said. " May the rest of your years be years of joy and happiness I " "God grant it ! " she answered. « But it is hardly to be hoped in such fearful times of trouble and uncertainty." He did not leply at once, but seemed preoccupied. aTuuT^' ^'^'^ ''"^'^'"'^' '' if continuing his thoughts " Wh< don't you come with mc to England ? " " Are you returning, then ? ' " Yes, in a few days." 64 Robesp lerre She gave a little cry of joy, then added regret- fully— " It is useless to think of it. There is always that question of passport in the way." Vaughan reassured her. " I can arrange all that for you," he said. She looked at him in astonishment, wondering how such a thing could be possible to him, a foreigner. Then suddenly struck by the recollection that she had selfishly kept him occupied with her affairs all the time, she hastened to ask him what had brought him to France. Perhaps she was detaining him ? And she begged him to forgive her want of thought. " You need not make any excuse," he said, smil- ing; " it would not have interested you, for my pres- ence here is due to politics. It must astonish you that I should come to France when our countries are at war ; but, be assured, I am well protected." And Vaughan explained to her how he had been sent by an influential member of the House of Com- mons to confer with the man who was looked upon as the most powerful, the master, in fact, of the Re- public — Robespierre. At the mention of this name Clarisse drew back terrified. Vaughan evinced no particular surprise, for that^ name produced the same effect on every woman. Was not Robespierre, indeed, the personification of that bloodthirsty Government in whose iron grip France was then writhing in agony ? clcd regret- always that lid. dering how a foreigner, n that she r affairs all lad brought ning him ? of thought, said, smil- )r my prcs- jtonish you • countries otccted." ; had been e of Com- okcd upon of the Re- drew back e, for that, y woman, fication of iron grip 1 % f The Englishman 6s He traced a striking portrait of the Incorruptible, from the intricacies of his subtle politics to the fierce and stubborn ambition capable of anything to attain its end. Clarisse listened, spell-bound and trembling. Vaughan, judging the man from a political stand- point, estimated him at his true value. His charac- ter, mediocre at the best, was exaggerated in England. The Whig party had commissioned Vaughan to propose to Robespierre an arrangement which, if accepted, would most likely change the face of things. But would he accept ? Vaughan doubted it, for the arrangement, though in one way flattering to the self-love and pride of the Incorruptible, would at the same time diminish his importance, and set a curb on his ambition, which, as Vaughan well knew, with all the pretensions of the man to simplicity and re- publican austerity, was all-absorbing and unbounded. Seeing Clarisse so attentive, Vaughan continued to paint Robespierre at home in the patriarchal circle of the Duplay family in the Rue Saint Honorc, where he occupied a modest apartment between that of the old couple and their younger son, as whose tutor he w^as acting until the time came for his marriage with Cornelia, Duplay's youngest daughter, to whom, as it seemed, he was devotedly attached. Clarisse, her eyes fixed on Vauglian, drank in every word. The Englishman went on, giving a precise and detailed account of Duplay's home — a home guarded by the wife, who watched the door in real bull-dog fashion, for it was the centre of .j» -f^mr 66 Robespierre mistrust and suspicion. Yes, Robespierre was well guarded. He, Vaughan, even with an introduction as Pitt's agent, had not been able to see him. He had only succeeded after many difficulties in obtain- ing an interview in the forest, where he was to con- fer with him in secret, until joined by the Duplay family. Constantly beset bv the fear of the Com- mittee of Public Safety, who watched his every movement, he had arranged for a picnic in the glades, to avert suspicion from this forest interview. Clarisse, pale and trembling, made a great effort to steady her voice, and asked — " Is he coming here ? " " Why, yes ! " replied Vaughan ; " he will be here directly. I am a little early." Ahhough accustomed to the efFect which the name of Robespierre always produced, Vaughan would have been surprised to see Clarisse's emolion had he watched her face, but being preoccupied, he looked at her without taking notice, and con- tinued — " Yes, the chance is opportune. It will enable me to ask for your passport. He cannot refuse." Clarisse looked at him, petrified with horror. " And is it to him that you will go for our pass- ports ? " she said. "Yes," replied Vaughan; "and I am quite sure ot obtaining them." " Impossible ! " exclaimed Clarisse. « It cannot be!" espierre was well an introduction to see him. He unities in obtain- - he was to con- by the Duplay ar of the Com- ched his every I picnic in the Forest interview, le a great effort ; "he will be ect which the Liced, Vaughan irisse's emotion g preoccupied, 'tice, and con- ft will enable annot refuse." th horror, ^or our pass- am quite sure " It cannot The Englishman 67 " Why, dear friend ? " asked Vaughan, beginning to show signs of astonishment. " He would want to know my name." "Well ! and 1 should tell him." " Oh no ; anything but that ! " she gasped, bound- ing forward as if to seal his lips with her hands ; then she commenced to walk madly to and fro, no lonc^er able to v^ontrol her emotion. Vaughan, more and more mystified, looked at her in amazement. " I cannot understand you," he said. She gazed at him for a moment, silent and hesita- tmg, then, as if suddenly resolved, she went up to him, " A word will explain everything. Since you are already possessed of half the secret of my life, it is perhaps better that you should know all." Ql-, paused, and then continued — " Olivier's father " Well ! " interposed Vaughan, now aghast in his turn, scarcely daring to understand her. " He is Olivier's father ' " And as if broken with the effort, she sank down by the fallen tree-trunk, and sobbed aloud. " Oh, my poor, poor friend ! " exclaimed Vaughan as he bent over her. " I who thought your suffer- ings were at an end, and in my ignorance added to them by telling you so brutally what I th.night of that man ! " " You did not tell me more than 1 have thought 68 Robespierre I myself," she said. "For a long time, to my contempt for him has been added an absolute abhorrence." Vaugha.i here interrupted her with a gesture, in- timatuig silence, hi. eyes rixed on the distance. " Is It he .? " she said in a trembling whisper. Vaughan continued to look. He could make out the dim outline of a man's f.)rm advancing through the trees. ^ Clarisse turned to escape, whispering as she went : " Wilj you come on afterwards to the house ? " "No; to-morrow I will, not to-day. He is sure to have me followed," replied Vaughan, his eyes still nxed on the advancing figure. Clarisse was about to reply, but Vaughai) had recognised Robespierre. " It is he ! " he exclaimed. « Go quickly, he is commg this way," pointing to the path by which Olivier had come. Clarisse had already crossed the stream and was standing behind a curtain of reeds. She parted them gently and asked, with shaking voice — " Where is he .? " Even in her fear she remained a woman, divided between a horror of the man and the desire to see him again. "Ah! I see him . . . Adieu, till to- morrow. ..." The reeds fell back into their places, and The Enc^lishman ime, to my an absolute I gesture, in- stance, whisper. Id make out ing through i"g as she ards to the He is sure liis eyes still iiughan had ickly, he is I by which m and was She parted )ice — an, divided >ire to see till to- laces, and 6q Vaughan, left alone, seated himself on the tree- trunk. Robespierre soon came up, walking lei. surely, a bunch of blue periwinkles in his hand, his eyes on the grass, seeking others. He stooped here and there to gather and arrange them daintily as a bouquet. He was elegantly dressed, with top- boots, chamois knee-breeches, a tight-fitting redin- gote of grey stuff, and a waistcoat with revers. A red-haired dog of Danish breed gambolled before him, without fraternising unduly, as if his master's faultless attire somewhat overawed him. At a few steps from the stream Robespierre perceived Vaughan, and came to an abrupt halt. At the same time two men appeared, wearing carmagnole jackets and two-horned hats, and carrying stout cudgels. Vaughan rose to meet the Incorruptible. The dog began to bark. "Advance no further!" cried Robespierre. " Who are you?" He made a sign to the two men, who evidently had been acting as scouts, and sent them towards Vaughan, who, though aware of his ways, was still a little taken back at these strange prelimi- naries. Vaughan gave the two men his note of introduction. Robespierre took the paper, and drew out of his pocket a gold case, from which he took a pair of blue, silver-rimmed spectacles, which he carefully wiped and put on. "It's all right," he said, after reading the note; 70 Robespierre and addressing himself ,o .he ,wo men, he added Leave me now but do no. go far, and, above all,' Keep watch round about." And Robespierre crossed the bridge, and ad- vanced towards Vaughan, followed by his dog I '•i len, he added, and, above all, idge, and ad- >y his dog. CHAPTER IV THE ARREST Th»? two men measured each other from head to foot with rapid glances ; the one with curiosity, the other with mistrust ; and, as if the letter of intro- duction had not sufficed, Robespierre requested the Englishman to give his name. Vaughan complied, thinking it unadvisible to bandy words with such 1 personage. He it was, he explained, who on his arrival from London had written to Robespierre the day before, asking the favour of an interview. He had been in Paris two days, and was staying at the American Consulate, under the name of Martin, but his real name was Vaughan — Benjamin Vaughan one of the Whig members of the Opposition in thj House of Commons. He then unfolded to Robes- pierre the object of his mission, telling him how he had been sent by the illustrious Fox, the fierce op- ponent of Pitt's anti-republican policy " Yes, I know," Robespierre interposed. " I know Mr. Fox is the champion of democracy. He is a grand character, and richly gifted, I had his speeches translated, and read them with intense interest. I followed every word of his fine oratori- if If 72 Robespierre cal contest w.th Burke, and was deeply „,oved at the solemn rupture of their friendship of twenty years stand.ng ! Ah! There is something .rand hero.c, thus to sunder the closest tie in delnce of' one s pnnc.ples. It is worthy of another age They are Romans, your leaders! And ..hat are Mr. Poxs wishes, may I ask?" The Englishman was about to explain the prin- c.pal pomts, when Robespierre again interrupted him by a gesture. Did he not hear a noise among the In? I'°"f,^^^""^' ^^^ --^h-dog, who prowled round about l.ke a v.gilant sentinel, had not barked ^ Robespierre begged Vaughan to continue, but was still on the qm.v:ve, listening with divided attention nervous and uneasy, as if fearing to be surprised in' this conference with a stranger. And the interview was, to say the least, com- prom.smg. Fox and his influential friends of the Whig party proposed a secret agreement which would perhaps mduce England and the Powers alhed agamst France to put down their arms, thus g.vmg satisfaction to the Royalists, without in any way mterfering with the legitimate claims of the Revolutionists. Robespierre looked at the English- man .n surprise, still unable to grasp his meaning. Vaughan then explained more concisely that the Whig party dreamt of establishing a Constitutional monarchy m France, on the same principles as in England, w.th the little son of Louis XVI now a prisoner in the Temple, as King ... ' ply moved at 'P of twenty ething grand, n defence of another age. nd ,/hat are lin the prin- errupted him ' among the v'ho prowled not barked ? ue, but was d attention, surprised in least, com- nds of the lent which he Powers arms, thus out in any ms of the e English- leaning. 7 that the stitutional pies as in VI., now The Arrest 73 interrupted Robes- " But think a moment ! pierre. " With a Regency, of course, and an absolute guardianship," continued Vaughan. " The French nation would never hear of it." "But why not, since the Regency would be confided to you ? " Robespierre started back. " What, to me ! I, the Regent, the tutor of that boy ? You are joking ! " The " Incorruptible " did not think fit to tell him that five years previously he had vainly solicited the position of tutor to the royal infant at Versailles. He now walked excitedly to and fro, asserting posi- tively his refusal, in short, broken phrases ; all the while on the alert for the slightest sound, and stop- ping now and then to ask, " Did you hear anything ? I thought I heard steps ? Are you there, Blount .? Hoop la ! Good dog ! Keep a good watch ! " Carried away by his vanity, Robespierre laid his soul bare before the Englishman, who listened with the greatest curiosity and interest. " Restore Royalty .? Ah ! it was too ludicrous ! Had he worked, then, to re-establish a kingdom for the son of the man he had sent to the scafl^:)ld ? No ! he had worked first for France, whom he had purged of her internal evils, of the whole corrupt and infamous crowd that had so long polluted her ! And then for himself; oh no ! not from motives of personal ambition, but because he felt himself called to regenerate his !i ■ I 74 Robespierre country, ,o brea.he into her a new soul, cleansed in the pure waters of virtue and justice and equality. Regent, tndeed ? Fox could not mean it I Dictator, perhaps ; Protector, as was Cromwell ; Lord-Protector of his country, now degraded by centunes of tyranny and corruption. Ah ! thev would soon see her arise, pure and radiant, cleansed of all Stan,, regenerated by a baptism of blood I A few more heads, and then from the soil soaked with the blood of aristocrats, those butchers of the old y»'., would spring the tree of liberty, the tree of hfeandjusttce, of j„y and love, which would bring forth marvellous fru„s, and to whose branches France wou d chng for support and nourishment, as to a mother s breast ! " Vaughan gazed at him in bewilderment. For through this ambition, this bloodthirsty hypocrisy, he descned the madman ; and the Englishman said w.th,n h.mself that the man was absolutely dan- gerous. He only interrupted Robespierre as a matter of form, knowing well there was absolutely nothmg m the way of common sense to be looked lor in such a fanatic. ''So you refuse ? " said Vaughan, in conclusion. "Decidedly!" "Then I have only to retire, with your per- mission." ^ ^ But Robespierre turned round abruptly. Blount had^ started barking, and a man was crossing their cleansed in equality, mean it ! >omwell ; graded by Ah! they ■, cleansed lood ! A iked with f the old E tree of uld bring 'S France . as to a n. For 'pocrisy, nan said -ly dan- e as a solutely looked jsion. Lir per- The Arrest 75 Bio unt g their " Who is that ? " said Robespierre, in a frightened voice. "The man looks lilce a beggar," said Vaughan, his eyes bent on the approaching figure. " Do you think so ? " he answered, only half convinced. " A snv nfM-hnnc ? i? t ^ spy, pcinaps I* l^or I am sur- rounded with spies, monsieur! Ah, my life is awful ! And if I were not working for the hap- piness of France ..." A sound of voices was on the air, and the bark ot a dog died away in the distance. It was Robes- pierre's two scouts driving ofF the beggar Released from suspense, Robespierre turned again to Vaughan. ° " We must part company now," he said, « but not a word of our interview ! I can count on your discretion, I am sure. If „ot, beware, for I could charge you with attempted bribery and corruption " Vaughan assured him of his secrecy, telling him he was returning to London by Geneva, to allay suspicion. Seeing Robespierre's agitation, he felt it was hardly the moment to ask for the passports he required for Clarisse and her two young people. He ventured, however, but saw immediately by 'he expression of distrust on the face of his interlocutor that he was not mistaken. Robespierre refused bluntly, saying that Vaughan should use every pre- caution to avert discovery. The slightest impru- dence was sufficient to betray him. It would oe too noticeable to travel in numbers in times whrn every K^\ 76 fii( u ir Robespierre one w suspeceed and .hadnwed. And what would ' ':. '" 'r r"'' ■ »'^ f"-'' i-^j ^ue eo col .0 h,m a few days hence, and he would give her , he passpons only .00 happy ,0 be of service ,0 .Zlt ". w o,„ Mon,,ie„,. Vaughan was interested ' The latter pol.tely declined this offer, fei„„i„„ ,•„ d,fference, and took leave of R„bespier e, thot ",' h.n,.s,gh.unt,l he disappeared round 'ahendT: Left alone, Robespierre's suspicions were aroused whoX ": ' * u""'-'' ^"' "- '"^ — t Whom the ...,,,hman was so much interested Vaugh ,,a iriuds, then, in France, to whoT nt doubt he y.,,A: describe their interview in the forest, or, at the very least, how he had spent he -orntng. Robespierre turned .0 call his n,e„ wh„ were close at hand. ' ° u or nis actions and movements until he leaves Paris. ^ "You are right, citizen, for the fellow looked ■ Tl'e whole ca„ drawn by a lean, jaded beas,. Old Duplay in H.S sh,r,seeves, bis face all red and ba,bednpe p.ra„on led ,he horse by ,he bridle over ,be ru,s of ■he road, while his son, Maurice, a boy „f fifteef ran abou,, his hair floating in ,he wind, waving ,V branch of a, ree,obea, away, he flies. Behid, he car,, pushing i, forward bv ,he wheels wis ,o, ™n,nea,ly dressed. This was Lebas'^osietl c lleaguea, ,he C„nven,ion and a, ,be Conli„e o Pubbc Safe,y, ,he husband of one of Duplay's Dut In,hec.ar,wereall.hefa„,ily:„:,; Dplay, sea,ed on a s.ool, a soli.lly bui , w„n,an w.,harn,s bare ,0 , he elbow, holding , he reins, ad cLterv • T' ,"" " •'^"'' •••>™--'- -'1 ri fwi h b 'rV"°'"' ""■ >""'"S"'' - ft'-haired g.rlw„hbeau,„ul eye-Si and Eleonore, or Cornelie ii at the battle ioned off by 7 to Robes- ide reaching - you been 'id say that spared the 1 morning, sounded The whole ched on a Duplay, in ed in per- he ruts of of fifteen, aving the ehind the s another 'espierre's o mm it tee I^uplay's : mother woman, eins, and ons and 'eth, the ii-haired 'Ornelie, The Arrest 79 for the Duplays had unearthed the name of a Ro- man matron to give her a character of antique grace ■n the s.ght of Robespierre, who, it was said, was gomg to marry her. Dark and strong, with clear, almond-shaped eyes her ha.r neatly plaited, Corndie was dressed like her sisters, m hght summer clothes, with a simplicity in which a practised eye could detect a grain of co- quetry. 7 he three sisters wore bonnets, caught up and fastened with tricolour ribbons and cockades, thus gu'.ng to the old cart, decorated with branches and palms gathered on the way, an air of gaiety and life. It was a custom of the Duplavs to come thus on fine days to join their friend, in some shady, secluded spot for a picnic on the grass, and enjoy h.s company for a few quiet hours of intimacy in the silence and coolness of the wood. The cart now stopped. Robespierre gallantly assisted the women to ahght, am.dst timid exclamations and flutters of tear and laughing protests of : u Qh ! dear! How h.gh I shall never be able to get down I " followed by npples of laughter and a whole babel of questions and chatter, u Have you slept well, /.„ ,,,/, Ah ! How well you look this morning I " "The joy of seeing you," replied Robespierre. They went into ecstasy over his slightest words. Oh, how good he was, how kind ! And what a dream the place was, so joyous, so cool ! Only he could have discovered such a spot ! 8o Robespierre fr Mother Duplay had already commenced un- packing the provisions — slices of sausage, shrimp paste, cold chicken, a melon, watercress, Brie cheese, and buns. She called her daughters to help her, whilst Duplay unharnessed the horse and Lebas conversed with Robespierre, giving him the latest news from Paris. Wooden-legged Simon looked around for a convenient spot to spread the cloth, and the boy Maurice occupied himself in coaxing Blount to stand on his hind legs and beg for sugar. Suddenly all movement was suspended, and every ear strained to listen, for screams were heard com- ing from behind the clump of trees in the back- ground. " It sounds like women's voices," said Cornel'" anxiously. "You were right, they were women's voices,'' repeated Madame Lebas, who had advanced in the direction whence the sound came. Robespierre hastened to reassure them. " It is nothing ! " he said calmly, and as every one looked at him questioning, he added indiffer- ently, " They are only arresting two aristocrats ! " " Oh, is that all ? " said the two women, re- assure.'. Duplay and Simon approached nearer the Incor- ruptible, scenting a story. Robespierre assumed an air of superior mystery. It was a good find. . . . He had tracked them down. ... il :a The Arrest 8i need un- J ^e, shi rimp 1 ress, Brie 1 jghters to ^ horse and 1 the 1 g him ed Simon | spread the limself in s and beg and every eard com- the back- l Cornel'-^ s voices," ced in the 1 as every d indifFer- )crats ! " omen, re- he Incor- sumed an Bnd. . . . At this moment Didier appeared. " Is everything right ? " asked Robespierre. "Everything is right, citizen," replied Didier. Apparently satisfied, the Incorruptible turned round, and went towards Cornelie, who had stooped to gather a daisy. A tew steps off, on the other trunk, Robespierre had laid the bouquet of blue periwinkles gathered in his morning walk through the forest. He now offered it to her. " Oh, the pretty things ! " she exclaimed, thank- ing him for the delicate attention. " It was the flower Rousseau loved," Robespierre observed. « You are as kind and good as he," the young girl replied, knowing she gave pleasure to the In- corruptible in thus comparing him to his master. Robespierre, pleased and flattered, fastened the flowers in the young girl's dress. A gentle breeze murmured through the leaves, fanning them as it passed. It had come from afar, laden with a scent of cultivated blossoms, the heavy perfume of roses that grew in Clarisse's garden. " Ah, life is sweet sometimes," sighed Cornelie. And Robespierre, inhaling deep draughts of the perfumed air, assented with a smile. w CHAPTf:R V THK SON f Olivier did not wait until the end of the rejoic- ings at Saint-Prix. About five o'clock, profiting by a moment when the public were occupied with one of the usual commonplaces of popular festivals, and their attention was fixed on the simulated dis- pute of two mountebanks on the stage, he made his way through the gapirg groups until he reached the country. Besides the pleasure of surprising his mother and Therc-se by his unexpected return, the thoughts of an early supper and a long sleep pos- sessed him pleasantly as he quickened his steps. His nerves had been more unstrung by all tlvls bustle and movement of the revels than by the sleepless night he had passed on the eve of the f^ie. His brain reeled ; he had been dazed in the midst of the surging tumult, the boisterous merry- making of a multitude let loose under the burning midsummer sun, as the clamour rolled in swelling waves of sound above the crowd, above the gleam and shimmer of tricolour scarves and cockades, up to the official stands, in murmurs of enthusi- astic approval, which harmonised with the extrava- gant harangues of the orators almost as a musical accompaniment. - M The Son »3 the rejoic- roHting by I with one • festivals, ulated dis- i made his cached the )rising his return, the sleep pos- steps. :)y all this m by the f the fiie. d in the Ills inerry- e burning 1 swelling the gleam cockades, enthusi- = extrava- a musical How they mouthed their periods, and declaimed their sentences, lavish of revolutionary rant, re- peated and reiterated to such excess that Olivier's heart throbbed and a pulse beat at his temples, responsive to the din of those recurring words I'berty, e(|uality, fraternity, truth, justice, virtue, tyrant, pervert, corruptor, and suspect! And to' think that to-morrow it would all begin again ! For at the workshop they discussed politics,'' and he dared not be indifferent, or even appear luke- warm before these enthusiasts, or he would be immediately suspected ! Ah, yes ! Every one was suspected who did not howl with the wolves. " My God ! I am weary to death of it all," he exclaimed, in a sudden revulsion of feeling at the rS/e he had assumed for fourteen months — he, the son of a noble, of a Vendean ! His lips quivered, his breast heaved at the thought of the string of horrors discussed and upheld in his presence, which caused every fibre of his being to shrink' and against which his whole soul revolted in mute' indignation. The image of two women rose before his eyes • h.s mother with joined hands imploring him to moderate his zeal, to subdue the impetuous ardour of his youth a while longer. "Have but a little patience," she would say; "It will not, cannot last. The reaction is nearer than you think." He smiled at her over-confidence, feigned per- 84 Robespierre haps to quiet him, as he hastened his steps, thinking of the expected kiss, picturing her joy and surprise, imagining himself already in her arms, looking into lier eyes, so full of tender love, and saying to her, " Yes, mother, it is I, and 1 am going to stay till to-morrow morning ! " Olivier had taken a path across a rouf^h and woody district, which shortened his walk by the third of a mile. Fie felt worn out, but at the sight of the trees in the distance which surrounded their little cottage, he took heart and quickened his steps. The gardener was waiting for him at the door, and Olivier called out to him joyfully " Hallo, Paul ! You did not expect to see me so soon, eh ? " But the man's expression told him instantly that something unusual had happened. His mother was ill perhaps — or Therese ? He began to question the man anxiously, and when he reached him, stammered out — "What is amiss.? What is it.? Oh, tell me quickly ! " In a few words the gardener told him all : how the home had been invaded ; the arrest pf the two women ; the agent's rough, off-hand replies to Clarisse's entreaties and protestations; then their tears, their screams, and their hurried departure in the direction of Montmorency, hastened, no doubt, to avoid disturbing the little family gathering just near the Carrefour de la Chevre, .m The Son >, thinking J surprise, )king into ig to her, o stay till ough and k by the he sight of their little teps. the door, o see me antly that other was question led him, , tell me all : how the two eplies to len their arture in lo doubt, ring just 85 Olivier, overpowered by the terrible details the gardener had been giving him, did not even think of asking to what family gathering he was alluding, but the name of the place, the Cancfour de h Chevre struck him at once, and made him think of Vaughan. "And the Englishman ? " he asked. " Which Englishman ? the gardener replied.' Olivier, seizing him nervously by the arm hurriedly explained. ' ' * "You know that when I left this morning Therese was alone. ... My mother. . . . Did not she return afterwards with a stranger ? " "No," answered the gardener, "the citoyenne Durand returned alone, and even. ..." " And even, what ? " " And even in great haste. She seemed excited lookmg behind her, as if she did not wish to be seen by the pleasure-party." "What pleasure-party ? " asked Olivier excitedly. "A pleasure-party of citovens and citovennes who were picnicking on the grass at the cross-roads of la Chevre, and who seemed to know all about the arrest, for one of the agents went to speak to them afterwards." " And who were they ? " asked Olivier, thinking he was on the track at last. "Indeed, citoycn, I do not know." " Are they still there ? " inquired Olivier, with a ray of hope. ! 1 86 Robespierre " Oh ! they have been gone a long time." " In what direction ? " " I cannot say." " And you say that my mother and Therese have been talcen to Montmorency ? " " I am quite sure of it, unless, of course, the agents could find means of conveyance somewhere else." " A conveyance ? What for .? " " To take them to Paris." " Are they going to Paris, then ? " " I suppose so, as they are arrested." Arrested ! Olivier could not reconcile himself to the idea. Why arrested? What had they done ? Of what crime were they guilty ? For the tenth time the gardener told him he knew no more than he did, and the lad, be«ide himself with rage, violently reproached the gardener for not having fetched him at once from Saint-Prix. " And who would have watched the house ? " the gardener replied, who had thought it better to guard his bedridden wife than to compromise him- self by starting oft' in search of Olivier. The young man rushed into the house like a whirlwind, his haggard eyes roving round the empty rooms, with the mad, impossible hope that Therese was hidden behind some piece of furniture, and would burst upon him in a peal of laughter, as in the days of childish gambols. Then suddenly he darted off" like a madman in the direction of Mont- : I The Son 87 I rage, having morency. He would go and ttll the news to Leonard, who must have returned by this time. Perhaps he aheaiiy icnew ? He stopped as sud- denly : an idea had struck him. If the agents had ordered a conveyance at Montmorency, he had only to internjgate the driver. 7'hat was clear enough ' bo he resumed his headlong course, jumping the ditches as he went, reckless of all risks. On the way he fell into Leonard's arms. The locksmith had learnt everything from the driver who had taken Clarisse and Therese to Paris, and had stopped at the workshop on his way back. The two women had been placed in the prison of La Bourbe, at Port-Royal, arrested as "suspects." " But by whose orders .? " asked Olivier, stupe- fied. " Robespierre's." "The wretch!" he vocifcricd as he fell on a chair, frantic wiih rage. But he was soon on his feet again, resolute and decided. " I must go ! " he said ; « I must start at once for Paris. I must have them from that prison ! For now prison means the guillotine ! " Leonard held him back, begging him to wait till the morrow, entreating him to be prudent, and to do nothing rashly. But Olivier was deaf to counsel or entreaty, and at last succeeded in obtaining from the locksmith the address of a furnished apartment in the Rue du Rocher, in a quiet, respectable house. I SB Robespierre 1 1 ii- Only giving himself time to go in the adjoining room and take a travelling-bag he had left in Leonard's care, packed with a few clothes and sundry other articles brought with him from Pontivy, Olivier started for Paris, accompanied at Hrst by Leonard, who took leave of him at a junction of the roads. " Pray for me, Leonard," he said, taking an af- fectionate farewell, " for I say it again, they shall come out of that prison, even if I have to pay for it with my life." At midnight Olivier arrived at the Rue du Rocher, having walked the whole way without really know- ing how, mind and body being given up to the one haunting thought. He rang at the house indicated to him, and secured a room, mentioning Leonard as a reference, and when the concierge asked his name he replied — "Germain, Citoyen Germain. Could I go to my room now? I am so sleepy." And yet he did not sleep. He did not even at- tempt to lie down, but paced the room impatiently, trying at times to sit down quietly, then rising to recommence his walk to and fro, waiting for the daylight with feverish impatience. He undid his bed, rumpled it to make it look as if it had been slept in, and going downstairs knocked gently at the concierge's room to ha\c the front door opened. He then hastened through the deserted streets to the prison of La Bourbe, without once asking his way, The Son 8() for the directions Leonard had given him were firmly engraved on his meinorv, and arrived there sooner than he had expected. When the grey and red mass of Port-Royal Abbey rose before him, his heart beat wildl) . It was in one of those buildings, now transformed into a prison, that his mother and h\s fiancee were immured ! It was within those walls that they suffered, that they wept bitter tears in their utter despair, thinking surely of him, wondering what had been his fate! And the reality appeared even more desperate now ! In his haste to reach them Olivier had not considered how to gain admittance to the prison. In a moment all the difficulty of such an undertaking rushed on his mind, as he stood alone and helplcs's before those massive walls. Trying to solve the problem, he devised schemes only to discard them as impracticable. He no longer scanned the windows, for fear of attracting attention. He suspected a spy in every passer-by. Once he even tried to as- sume a smile, thinking his mental agony m.ight be seen on his face. He put on an air of indifference, making a detour of the prison, carelessly examining everything to avert suspicion. At last, thoroughly worn out, he moved away, vaguely hoping to find a happy inspiration in some lonely spot, where he could be more master of himself. To whom could he turn for assistance ? He knew no one. All the friends of his family, for- merly settled in Paris, were now either abroad or in u 90 Rob espierre prison, if they had not perished on the scaffold or in the war. And then he thought of the Englishman Vaughan. Where was he to be found ? In prison, perhaps, arrested with the others in the forest' Everything was possible. A sudden idea flashed across h.s mind, an idea which, however, he quickly rejected, judging it imprudent. He had wandered >nto the Rue dcs Lions, the neighbourhood of his grandfather's town house, aiul had thou^^^ht of Benoit the porter. Was he still there? He^hrugged his shoulders despairingly, just remembering that the mansion was now the property of the State. The neighbours might also recognise him, and he would compromise himself uselessly. Thus wandering, Olivier found himself back again in the Rue du Rocher, in front of his lodgings tnough he could not tell by what way he had come' Co.ng up to his room, he locked himself in to rest a while. His head swam, and he realised for the first time that he had eaten nothing since the pre- vious day, so he called down to ask if he could have something to eat. As it was just breakfast-time they sent up som eggs, a cutlet, and some fruit He ate the eggs, tasted the cutlet, but did not finish 't. Then, as a reaction set in, he sunk into an armchair and slept. When Olivier awoke it was four o'clock. He started up quickly, vexed at having lost his day, and flurried downstairs. On the ground floor the con- cierge stopped him. The Son 91 " I want a word with you," he said. " You are really the citoyen Germain, are you not ? " "Yes," answered Olivier, already apprehensive, and wondcrinir what was comiiihe rose and fell i„to his arms. "Arrested? Vou also, my son?" He pressed her to him, reassuring her. " Oh, no ! ... I am free I jj^. ^^ •"Other ... I have had permission to see you"' "' ■ ask^d'-!'" '""^' ^''''""' "''^' '''' ^'-bling, " Is it really true, you are free ? " Olivier again reassured then,. Clarisse wished mrh d ' T'"f?''/P"' -'•"'■ 'h^y could talk undis- turbed, and There., having espied an en.pcv bench under another acacia, they took possession of it Oliver now anxiously questioned his mother wanttng to know every detail of her arrest, bu,' Clartsse .merrupted him. He must first tell them about htmself. Was he really safe ? How did he get to Pans? Where was he staying? Olivier was Ob hged to answer, telling them his adventure, as qutckly as possible, that he n.ight -return ,o their brhlesri" '' ^" -^*^ '^-' ^^ -ed ^^^ ''And you ? Tell me everything. I must know Clarisse then told him of their arrest, departure and halt at Montmorency ; of the long drive T; Robespierre Pans, then- arrival in the prison more dead than alrve, and how they gained heart oii leariiing it was one of the least cruel in Paris. She had been able to judge for herself when .lu. awoke in the n,orning, and was so cordially recei^ ed by her fellow-prison- ns, men and wo.nc n who, as she discovered on their iiitroducnig thenisebes, belonged to her world. She then pointed out to Olivier among those taku.g then- after-dinner promenade Madame de Narbonne, so gentle, so compassionate, and her little g"I, such a darling cl;i!,| ! then the Count and Countess de l.avergn- ; the Manp.i.e de Choiseul, who h.,d taken s.,ch kind and delicate interest in Ihereseat breakfast; the whole familv de Malus- sie; the Count de Hroglie; the Chevalier de Bar; the Marechal de Mouchy and h.s ladv, who.r. Clarisse had nut in her \(,uth at Versailles; Made- moiselle de Bethisy, and the Marquis d'Avaux. " Yes," she said, with a sad smile. " I have not found myself in such elegant compa.iy since we left Pontivy." " l^hat is easily explained," replied Olivier ; " the prisons of the Republic are used only for the nobility." " You are mistaken," Clarisse answered gently. " Among the prisoners there are, I can assure you, men and women of the lower middle-class, who have given proofs of the highest nobility of soul." " That is exactly what I mean — they are emi- nent in virtue, as tne others are in birth. And they the The Prison of [.a Boiirbe loi are coiisciuc-mly not wanted. All that is wanted is eqiiahty. . . . E(|uality in infaniy ! " " Hush ! Ik- (juict, you may be heard ! " "Be quiet? I shall Ik- (|,nc-t when they tell me of what you are aeeused ; for, after all, why have you been arrested ? What have you done? " ^ "That is just what we ask ourselves," answered Clarisse. And then she continued as if she were thinking aloud — "At Hrst I fancied that some one had denounced us, but I put chat thought aside at once, for who could have done so ? " "Who?" exclaimed Olivier, astonished that his mother as yet knew nothing. Looking at her fixedly, he continued — "What! Is it possible thev have not told you ? " "Told me? Who could tell me ? . . . Then it was . . . ? " she asked breathlessly. " It was Robespierre ! " She bounded from her seat as if under an electric shock. Incredulous and stupefied, she protested in spite of herself. " It is not true ! " she exclaimed. "How can it not be true? Leonard heard it from the driver who took you to Paris. Robespierre was a few yards off our house at the Carrefour de la Chevre. It was from that very spot he set his agents upon you." These details brought back the scene to Clarisse's I02 Robespierre • . Leonard is • I should have I should have lown. You vour- memu,ry. And she thought of Vaughan, undoubt- ediy arrested also, ()l.vier recalled her to the present, continuing to speak. '^ ^' Yes, it was Robespierre, the infamous w retch I - i^hc threw herself on him. "Oh no! Hush! I implore you ! •• He struggled to continue, but she prevented hnii trying to drown his words. ' "I am sure you are mistaken, mistaken. ... It is certain, known. ... If it were he known ! " " No ! You could not have Vnc self said so just now. Why should they accoun7't'o you for their actions ? It is he . . . he and no other ! " And Olivier then gave her minutely everv detail as the gardener had told it to him. How one of the agents had confeired with Robespierre after the =Trrest, at the Carrefour de la C'hevre, where he was enjoying a picnic. Ah ! Clarisse needed no such explanations. it was he, she knew it too well. Hut how was she ro persuade Olivier to the contrary ? How prevent the son from cursing his father? ?be tried to excuse Robespierre, attributing to him othei "\o*ives. " Yov vx/' sI- said, "he doesn't know who we are. . . . [.. ,s mistairvn. ... His agents have I J undoubt- inning to wretch ! " I ted him, 'onard is uld have Id have oil your- rount to and no ry detail e of the fter the he was ns. It > she ro prevent to hi m 'ho we s have The Prison of T.a Bourhe 103 misled him. . . . 'I'hcre could be so many mis- underst.uidings. ..." Olivier shrugged his should .-rs. "How credulous you arc! Hah! he knows very well what he is doing ' It is his thirst for blood. Oh ! you don't half know what he is, that Rob. . . ." Clarisse, horror-stricken, put her fingers to his lips, to arrest the wonls. " No ! No ! Don't pronounce that name in such a way ! " And seeing him look at her in bewilderment, she tried to give him plausible reasons. " You might be heard, and you would be compromised." " But how ? Here ? Where everybody holds his name in execration ? " " Yes i but then there arc turnkeys coming and going at every moment. And what if there are spies among the prisoners . . . ? " And, as if clutching at a straw, she followed up the idea. "Yes, spies — traitors? You must not betray your feelings before them." " True ! there is no lack of infamy among the populace ! " He then told his mother cf the incidents of his wanderings in Paris, of his utter astonishment at the apathy of the crowd round that accursed scaf- fold which was being transported to the Place df la 7, I II i e iHji i 104 Bastill Robespierre idst the preparations for the Festival le, ain the Supreme Bcino they dared not speak onf F ir . ^"'>^ couraaP . • "^^ """^ ""^ had the Clansse looked at him A r, u . She mterrupted him. 1''*;''™^'= ":.'•"= you lodge q^e safe?" •ions had assured he,-. ''""•=' ^P«"'- " Ah ! I did well .0 write to him ! - she thought 'he Incorruptible that very morning. Pa«icu,ar, mentioned as 'ntrC^^;:-;:: The Prison of La Bourbe 105 hint for Robcspiene, who would understand, and perhaps be touched to pity, and set her and Marie rherese at liberty, and spare the lad who was her son and his own. Clarisse had confided this letter to a prisoner set at .berty, whom she earnestly entreated to see it safely delivered. " It will be the easiest thing in the world," the man had replied ; "you can be quite at rest " Clansse did not suspect the irony of this reply or that the supposed prisoner was one of the spies to whom she had unwittingly alluded a little while be- ore. Ah, yes ; she could be at rest, truly ' The letter would reach Robespierre. But under what condemns ? Mc, who received so many ! Alas i It IS ,n the wounded heart that most illusions take root ! Clarisse did not dream that anything could mterfere with her scheme, and began to speculate on the future, countin the hours, and saying to herself that in all probability the letter could reach Kobespierre the next day. The best she could do till then, she thought, was to moderate Oliyier's zeal, by showing him that their pnson-life was not so unbearable^ and she •magined it would distract him if she presented him to some of her companions in misfortune. Thev had just taken away the tables, so making the court- yard appear l:nger, and leavi.ig more room for the promenade. Oliyier was now noticing more clearly the people in this little prison-world takin g air and m 'r 1 06 Robespierre exercise in the open space to which the green acacia- trees gave some semblance of a garden. The women, dressed simply in summer toilets, retained an air of elegance in spite of the plain ribbon band fastening their hair, and their fresh newly ironed caps. The men were gay and smil- ing, polite and distinguished ; they talked and played cards or chess together on the benches, exchang- ing courtesies as if they were in a drawing-room. "Aft er you I should not think of it ! And in and out the groups the concierge Haly came and went, giving his orders, accompanied by two bulldogs, with enormous spiked collars. Just then a fair-haired, bright-eyed boy of fifteen knocked up against Olivier. "Oh ! pardon, monsieur ! " said the lad, who was playing a game of fives and running after the ball. "What a nice lad ! " said Olivier. " It 's young de Maille," said Th^rese. « No- body knows why he has been arrested. His doom is settled, however, for they say he threw a rotten herring at the head of the concierge." Here Clarisse stopped her. "So they say, but it is not true, for the concierge is a fairly honest fellow." And addressing a lady who was just passing, she continued, " Is it not so, madame ? Haly is not a bad fellow, is he ? " " No, but a blockhead ; a lamb, however, com- pared to the jailers of other prisons." I rcen acacia- Thc Prison of La Bourbe Mad Ol 107 Clarisse thus presented Olivier: "My son — -"■ame la Marquise de Choiseul." ivier bowed courteously, and as Madame de Choiseul, struck by the d young workman, held out her hand, Ol in his and kissed it. In this high-b -11 the grace of his early education stinguished air of the ivier took it him. •orn company came back to The marquise smiled and turned to Clarisse. " Behold a son who betrays his :-other ' Your name is not Durand. You belong to us. I had thought as much." ^^ And as Clarisse was about to reply, she added : Hush! I am not asking your secrets." She then assured the young man that his mother was nght : the concierge Haly, though rough, was rather k.nd than otherwise, letting visitors enter, and even brmg ,n provisions, sweets, and linen "And above all," she added, "he does us the great favour of letting us walk about and disport our- selves here until night time." She then pointed out to Olivier the various games >n wh.ch the men and children took part " As you see," she added, " they take full advan- tage of the permission." Clarisse, well pleased with the tone of the conver- sation, tried to retain the marquise. "Tell him, madame, how you pass your evenmgs. ^ u What ! Hav( you not yet told him ? " ^sked io8 Robespierre U i i 11 the marquise, who had been a silent spectator of the meeting between the mother and her son. " You must not forget that I only arrived yester- day," sa.d Clarisse. " I know nothing myself but what I have heard." /'Ah, true!" said Madame de Choiseul, who with a mother's heart now understood Clarisse's kindly motive. At once she pointed out to Olivier the windows of one of the buildings. " That is what we call our drawing-room - a large apartment in which we gather in the evening There we play at guessing riddles, charades, and W-;v,«.V. Some read verses, or recite to us, and we even have music. Look ! Do you see that gentleman seated over there under an arch, turning the pages of an album ? That is the Baron de VV^vrbach, who plays some charming airs everv evening on his vio/. ,r„more. He exhausts his inge- nuity to find something new for us." Olivier listened in astonishment, beginning to be really reassured. "You see," continued the marquise, « we mi-ht imagine ourselves still at Versailles." "^ Then she added with a sad smile « And so we are in one sense, for all that remains of Versailles is now in prison." And she mentioned many names, singling out among the prisoners those who belonged to the old Court : the Prince and Princess de Saint-Maurice :tator of the I. ■ived yester- myself but iiscul, who I Clarisse's le windows -room — a e evening, rades, and to us, and J see that h, turning Baron de lirs every > his inge- ling to be we might t remains ;ling out the old Maurice, I The Prison of La Bourbe 109 the Chevalier de Pons, and the Count d'Armaille, whose nephew, young d'Hauteville, had been a pa J to Louis XVI. ^ A group had formed round a \'oung woman seated on the grassy knoll, hcT buck against the acacia, fanning herself daintily. "Look now! Would you not think it a court of love in one of the groves of Trianon ? It is Madame de Merc- receiving the homage of her admirers." Madame de Mt-rd rose at that moment to meet another lady who was coming towards her, pretty, neat, and natty in her spotless toilet ; and Madame' de Choiseul explained to Olivier who the new- comer was. "That is Madame de Verneuil, who remains, though in prison, as coquettish and as fashionably dressed as she used to be at Court. She even finds time to make her usual change of toilet regularly three times a day, without the assistance of maid or hairdresser. Not only does she dnss herself, and do her own hair, but she washes, dri.s, and gets up her own hnen ! And all this in such good-humour that it brings tears to one's eyes." Olivier was now quite reassured with regard to the severity of the p.ison rules to which his mother and Therese were subjected. He was, nevertheless, astonished at the careless indifference which he saw around him. If the populace had revolted him on the Place de la Revolution, this aristocratic company nl Hi! ^ii 1^ no Robespierre in the prison dumfounded him. He could not hide his feelings, or refrain from expressing his surprise; but he did so respectfully, with tact, and in perfectly good taste. Clarisse essayed to interrupt him ; but Madame de Choiseul had already replied — " You have just come from the country, perhaps, and have not mixed in the Parisian world for some time. What you take for indifference is in reality mere habit. You cannot change the French people. The moment they find a struggle useless, they gaily make the best of it. Believe me, their seemintr fri- vohty only masks the resignation of a Stoic. There are still rebellious and desperate spirits to be found, but they are in a minority. The majority are heart- sick and ready to go, that is, to die ; and they do die with a smile on their lips, French to the last ! " Voices and sounds of applause interrupted the marquise, and cries of " Bravo ! Bravo ! That was very good ! " were heard. A young girl, her arms tied behind her back, was bowing from the top of a ladder on which she was standing, and to which she had mounted by the aid of chairs and stools placed upon tables and benches. As she tried to descend all arms proffered assistance, and when she had reached the ground another lady came forward, the JVIarquise d'Avaux, whom Madame de Choiseul named to Olivier, and began to climb the improvised ascent with faltering steps. Clarisse, Therese, and Olivier watched this per- ould not hide his surprise ; J in perfectly but Madame itry, perhaps, rid for some ;; is in reality ench people. >s, they gaily seeming fri- toic. There to be found, ty are heart- 1 they do die last ! " irrupted the That was rl, her arms the top of a which she tools placed 1 to descend n she had "orward, the e Choiseul improvised d thi is per- The Prison of La Boiirbe 1 1 1 formance, understanding nothing of it. Madame de <^ho.seul looked at them to note their expression, and with one accord the three turned to question her - That is a new game, is it not ? " "Yes, and a rather gloomy one," answered Madame de Choiseul. Then she added solemnly, 1 hose lad.es are learning how to walk to the sca^old." She explained to them that the wooden steps which the condemned had to climb to reach the guillotine were difficult to ascend. The women encountered serious obstacles in mounting, being without the assistance of their hands, which were t.ed behind them. They stumbled and slipped, their dresses sometimes catching in the woodwork, to the great amusement of the rabble crowd. "It is to avoid these accidents," she said, "and to be able to meet their martyrdom respected by the mob, that they rehearse the role which they may be called upon to play on the morrow, perhaps, in public. Olivier was dumb with admiration before this contempt of the scaffold, the general resignation to the thought of death. Presently peals of laughter were heard. The Marqu.se d'Avaux, just before reaching the last stool, caught her dress on the back of a chair. She laughed with the rest, and said gailv, showing her torn skirt ' "Some more work for thi-s evening ! " 112 Robespierre "You see," continued Madame de Choiseul, " what the indifference which revolted you so much just now hides in reality. Many of those young women keep up the failing courage of the men at the scaffold, and offer to die rirst." But Clarisse, whose curiosity was now satisfied, tried to turn attention from these gloomy subjects, her mother's heart telling her they would reawaken Olivier's apprehensions. She soon found a pretext. Madame de Narbonne passed then with her little girl, holding a basket of fruit, of which the child partook without restraint. " What lovely cherries ! " exclaimed Clarisse. Madame de Narbonne stopped to offer her some, but Clarisse declined, and when pressed, said — " Not for me, thanks ; but my niece will perhaps taste them." When Therese also asked to be excused, Olivier intervened. " Only taste," he said, and as she still declined, "Will you allow me, mademoiselle?" he asked, taking a bunch from the basket which the child now carried. And he held one of the cherries up to his fiayu'ee'i lips. " Won't you take one to please me ? " Clarisse could not help smiling. Olivier saw the smile. " And vou, also, mamma ! " he said. Clarisse allowed herself to be persuaded, looking gratefully at the kind prisoner to whose good nature that little family scene was due, and Olivier was If Choiseul, ^ou so much those young the men at ow satisfied, imy subjects, lid reawaken nd a pretext, ith her little ch the child Clarisse. ?r her some, , said — will perhaps used, Olivier itill declined, " he asked, he child now es up to his le to please ivier saw the : said. aded, looking ? aood nature Olivier was The Prison of La Bourbe 113 beginning to renew his playful persuasions to Therese, when a bell sounded from behind the bie grating, tolling slowly. ^ Madame de Narbonne turned pale. " The call ! " she gasped. All conv ersation now ceased ; men and women fell into groups, or left each other abrupt!-., looking anxiously towards the iron gate, ... if expecting shudder of dread, and his fears were again awakened. '7 he call! What call !' he asked But the Marquise de Choiseul had gone away with Madame de Narbonne, carrying the little child along with them, in great haste. Olivier, turning round met only the supplicating look of his mother! who had perhaps understood. " What is it ? " he asked. "I don't know," she said, with an effort Therese clung tremblingly to Clarisse, feeling that something terrible was to happen, and Olivier gomg towards one of the prisoners to question him was soon joined by Clarisse and Therese "Thecal!.? Why, it i. the summons to such of the prisoners as are destined to appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal. The bell had been run. to assemble all the prisoners to meet the Recordei" who, with list in hand, wi.i read the names of those' selected by the Revolutionary Tribunal for trial » "You mean for condemnation!" interrupted Uhvier, with indignation. 114 Robespierre The prisoner nodded assent. " So all those who are named . . ." " Will be taken in a cart to the Conciergerie, and , . ." "And?" " Ascend the scafi'old two days after," said the prisoner in conclusion, apparently resigned to his fate. " Then it may be one of us, mamma ? " asked Ther6se, bursting into tears. Clarisse tried to master her emotion. " No . . ." she said. " It 's too soon . . . isn't it? . . . tell her ..." And she implored Olivier with a look. " How can one know ? " he said, driven to distraction. " Oh no ! . . . [ assure you ! . . . You will see. ... It is impossible ! . . ." And still she murmured brokenly : " You will see. ... It is impos;;ibIe ! . . ." The Recorder of the Revolutionary Tribunal now passed the grating, accompanied by Haly, the concierge, and followed hv turnkeys and gendarmes, who, on entering the courtyard, formed themselves in line. The Recorder was a little man, fat and full-blooded, his face twisted into a sly, ugly smile. He seemed highly a)Tiused at the spectacle, and seated himself under the acacia, talking to the concierge, who seemed surprised to see him, and said — I I anciergene, ," said the riifcl to his la ? " asked soon . . . driven to You will •'■ You will ' Tribunal ' Haly, the gendarmes, themselves m, fat and ui!;lv smile. :tacle, and ng to the t him, and M The Prison of La Bourbc 1 1 5 " I thought the Tribunal would not sit to-morrow on account of the Festival of the Supreme Bein^r ?" " 1 on are right ! But they will sit the day after to-morrow. You understand, I want to be free to-morrt)\v and to take part in the festiv '. . . ." And with a cynical laugh he called for a glass of wine, which he emptied at a draught. " Attention ! We must begin business ! " he said- and with this he unfolded the paper, the ter- rible paper, wherein the fate of the victims had been decided in advance. But the day was near its close, the Recorder could not sec, and had to ask for a lantern. The courtyard was full now. Prisoners from the neighbouring yards had assem- bled in answer to the call. All this little world was affected by various feelings ; some were resigned, some hopeful, some indifferent or frightened as they looked at the messenger of death, who seemed quite unconscious of his ignominv. What names would fall from his lips ? There were some, worn out and weary, looking forward to death as a release, who would have willingly put theirs into his mouth. Others, more feeble, who were undergoing the full horrors of suspense, stood in breathless fear, almost choked with anguish. Oh ! that horrible hope of hearing another's name called, rather than one's own ! And yet . . . The Recorder was becoming impatient. " Where is that lantern ! " he shouted. « Is every one asleep here ? " II ii6 Robespierre A few of the prisoners had refrained from joining the anxious crowd ; cither from habit or indifference, without disturbing themselves, they continued play- ing or conversing as before. C'larisse and Ther^se were seated at a little distance, their eyes fixed on the dread official, while Olivier, standing near, ready to defend them, watchad the affecting scene with strained anxiety. The Recorder was swearing now. " Is that cursed lantern never coming ? So much the worse ! I shall commence Without it." And he rose and tried to decipher ti ' names in the dark. " The first name is Bour . . . no. Lour . . ." Here a voice interrupted him in indignant pro- test. " Oh ! don't read like that ! You double their sufferings. It is horrible ! too horrible ! " It was Olivier. " Who dares to speak here ? " thundered the Recorder. Clarissc desperately pulled her son by the arm. " I implore you ! ... my child ! . . . I do implore you ! " At that moment some one appeared with a light. " Ah ! there 's the lantern ! " cried the concierge. When the man had explained that he had not been able to find any matches, the Recorder began to read the paper — • "Sourdeval ! " he cried out. I f 4 ■i I n joining iffercnce, jed play- Ther^se fixed on i?ar, ready ene with ng ? So )Ut it." names in ant pro- ble their ;red the arm. . I do a light, ncierge. had not ;r began I The Prison of La Bourbe 1 17 Other lanterns were now lighting up the court- yard and the distracted crowd, and every eye was turned in the direction of the prisoner who had been named. " Here I am ! " crit-d a voice. And a man advanced, his head erect, calm and impassive, without earring a single glance on the spectators, knowing no one perhaps. Me crossed the line of gendarmes, and disappeared behind the grating to fetch his belongings. The Recorder proceeded with his grim and gloomy task, drawing tears from some, heart-rending cries from others, and interrupted bv murmurs of pity or defiance. The young de Maillc, who was called among the first, stopped playing with the children to go to his death. An old man, Monsieur dc iMauclcre, at the sound of his name fainted away, and was carried out. Madame de Narbonne, called also, confided her little daughter to Madame dc Choiseul. " Where are you going, mamma .? " asked the child. And Madame de Narbonne had the courage to reply — " I shall be back in a moment, my darling." " Don't go, mamma ! . . . don't go ! ... I don't want you to go ! " Madame de Narbonne hurried away to hide her tears, then, breaking down entirely, leant on the grating and sobbed aloud. ii8 Robespierre * • I The Maleyssie family, father, mother, and two young girls, threw themselves into each other's arms, thanking heaven they were not to be separated in this supreme hour, and would walk hand in hand to the scaffold. An okl couple with white hair, the Marechal and A'larechale de Mouchv, worn with a^e, each walking with the aid of a stick, were called together. At once she took his arm, and so they made their way with calm courage through the prisoners, who bared their heads in reverence before such sublime resignation. Another couple drew forth cries of admiration : the Comte and Comtesse de Lavergnc. The Comte, alone named, was tak- ing leave of his wife, who, after assuring herself she was not on the list, implored the Recorder to include her. On his replying that he had no orders to do so, she uttered the cry of sedition punishable by death : « Vive le Roi ! " and was inscribed forth- with on the fatal list. Olivier now held his mother pressed against him, while Marie Ther^se and Clarisse, nestling together, followed the terrible spectacle with joined hands. All hearts were moved to admiration or to pity, according to the acts of courage or fiiint-hearted- ness which were displayed. But brave deeds pre- dominated. A Monsieur de Gournay, called out whilst engaged in filling his pipe on a bench, rose quietly and lit it at a turnkey's lantern, and went towards the gate without a word. The Comte de Broglie, interrupted in a game of chess with the I The Prison of La Bourbe 119 and two er's arms, )arated in n hand to hair, the with age, ■re called ;1 so they 3ugh the ce before 5le drew Jomtesse was tak- rself she o include rs to do hable by ?d forth- im. Inst h together, d hands, to pity, •hearted- cds pre- lled out ich, rose nd went omte de vith the Chevalier de Bar, as he rose pointed to the chess- board, and said — " You see, you would have lost, chevalier. But cheer up ! I shall let you have your revenge in the other world." Then, calm and composed, taking leave of the chevalier, bowing to his acquaintances, kissing the hands of the Marquise d'Avaux and of Madame de Mere, he followed the gendarmes to his fate. A discussion was taking place near to where Olivier was standing over a name which had just been called. " Leguay ! " Two men were speaking to each other ; one was of middle age, turning grey ; the other quite young. " Are you also Leguay ? " asked the young man, who when his name was called was surprised to see his fellow-prisoner advancing with him. " Yes," was the reply. " Are you married, or a bachelor ? " " Married, and father of two children." " I am a soldier, and have neither wife nor child. . . . Go no further." The Recorder, who was growing impatient at the conversation of the two men, whom he took for relations taking leave of each other, shouted — "Well! Leguay?" "It is I," answered the young man. Only Olivier, Clarisse, and Therese had witnessed this sublime self-devotion. Olivier made a move- I20 Robespierre men, as , ,o cfl-or his hand ,o ,he young hero, bu. l.e had already crossed over ,o ,l,e gendarmes: rhe Kccordc. now senhMed something on ,he „ • "'"'. "^^- i;''°''''- "P^-""' W"' 'o conimence a c-,vs„,es Bu, he folded ,l,e paper, and after ask- ing for another glass ,>f wine, said — " That is all for to-day." At these words a„ immediate feeling of relief ran t ro„g the crowd, awakening them" from t a teinble nightmare. " Thank God!" said Clarisse, with a sigh. c,.aimtV.:r ''■"^^°" ""='>"- -f-'"- Again she ha.l the courage to conceal the truth. ourseUes.. '"'' ""'''"' ™^ '"' ""'"^^ "« ^"r Olivier shook his head incredulously, and wa, about to reply, when the voice of HalyiLounZ .1. ho,,r ,or the visitors to leave interrupted him. ' All v,s,tors out I It is lime to close I" 1 he Recorde, by this time disappeared, preceded " th ncghbounng courtyard, amidst a confusion of cders and counter-orders. It was the men on duty who >vere putting the prisoners in the car. now rea y to start. Halv, posted a, the grating of e gate Iw which Oh, ier had entered, reLved'ti;! c...ds of the V rmors, e.xannning them by the li^ht of h.s tantc-rn, which he suspiciously lifted to a level with their faces. I hero, but iarmes. ng on the mmence a after ask- of relief fiom that fe ! " ex- ? truth, not for and was louncing him. ireceded IS heard infusion men on le cart, ting of ved the ic light a level The Prison of La Bourbe 12, Olivier did no, hurry his departure, in ,,piee of ,he -....ence of hi» n,o,her, .h„ was terrified at the hough, ,ha, the gate n,igh, shu, o„ him, Bu, the concierge saw him. "Hallo! You there' If you want to stay, you know, you have only to say so." « He is coming ''' cried the two women, the gite "^ ^'™ ''"''^'^' '^'"^' P"^*^"^ '^''^ '^^''^^ not^ftr 'f " 'T''"'' '"' ''"'^'■^^^ '^'^ -°^her not to ,y and see them for some davs, but to rest sat^fied with writing, without giving his address.' The two women glanced in spite of themselves at the neighbouring courtyard, whence came a no.se of wheels and the tramp of horses. Thev stooped and saw through the large grating the car w. h ,t load of the condemned n,il away by the .ght of torches held by the turnkeys, and dnven by a coachman in a carmagnole and red bonnet. As the vehicle was disappearing the two women recognised Madame de Narbonne in tears, sending i^'sses to the prison, in which her little girl had now wept herself to sleep. " Oh ! it is horrible ! " said Therese And she fell on Clarisse's shoulder, thoroughly broken by the terrible emotions of the day. ^ At this moment the cart reached the street, and passe close to Olivier, who commenced mec ani- cally to fol ow it, while the people of the quarter seated at then- doors, and accustomed to th s daily' 122 Wi i i U' Robespierre spectacle, looked on with indifference. But at a benu in the road Olivier let the cart go out of sight, lost in reflection. He walked straight on as a man in a dream, stopping on the quay to look down at the Seine. The cooling freshness of the water seemed to revive him. He breathed the air grate- fully, and continued his walk along the river, feeling less depressed. Suddenly from the heights of Port-Royal his eyes were dazzled by a rush of unusual light. Showers of golden fire trailed in the air over the Tuileries gardens. It was a trial of the fireworks to be let off the next day. Olivier crossed the bridge, and hastening his steps reached the Place de la Revolu- tion, which at that hour was filled with loungers from the boulevards, curious to see the preparations for the fete. Under a sky studded with stars, the immense space lay extended before him, with its stands already decked with flowers ; its masts con- nected by gi.rlands of foliage and coloured glass ; its flags, and plumes, and banners floating in the wind. Here and there fiddlers, standing on chairs, taught to choirs of young girls and young men the new anthem by Gossec, to be sung at the fetc^ a hymn to the Supreme Being, composed specially for the occasion. Some, carried away by their cnthus'ism, followed up the hymn with a waltz or a gavotte. Olivier opened his eyes in astonishment, asking himself if all this was real, or if he was in an ex- -5 :•'? > 11 But at a at of sight, 1 as a man c down at the water air grate- 'er, feeling al his eyes Showers Tuileries to be let •ridge, and la Revolu- 1 loungers 'eparations stars, the , with its lasts con- red glass -, ng in the irs, taught 1 the new ', a hymn y for the ithus'ism, ivotte. nt, asking in an ex- The Prison of La Bourbe 123 travagant dream. On one side he saw but sorrow, on the other only joy ! On one side, tears, despair', and the scaffold; on the other, laughter, revelry, and flowers! And the laughter and flowers were to honour and glorify the very one who was the cause of all this misery, who tore children relentlessly from the arms of their mothers as he sent them to death ! At this very moment the abhorred name fell on liis ears : " Robespierre ' . . . There 's Robes- pierre ! " he heard the crowd whispering. He turned round and saw some of them looking v-uriously at a man who was crossing the square, seemingly in great h-,te, with a woman leaning on his arm. Olivier understood that it was the Incor- ruptible who was passing within barely an arm's length of him ! He watched him disappear in the crowd. They were right ; it was Robespierre, who had been enjoying a walk in the Champs-Elysdes with Cornelie Duplay. Returning home to supper, at Duplay's house in the Rue Saint-Honor6, I, ^ could not resist crossing the square to have a foreta^^e of the rejoicings in honour of his frtr, to contemplate behmd the curtain the scene of his approaching tri- umph. Corndie had just said to him in delight, indicating the dancing groups,— " The people seem to be devoted to I<, heart and soul." This flattered Robespierre's pride, who rewarded her with a gentle pressure of the arm. 1,1 ' 124 Robespierre They continued their walk, deep in their own thoughts. Cornelie was wondering if her dress would be at home when she arrived, that beautiful dress for the /.^/., confided on this special occasion to a private dressmaker. Robespierre, always sus- picious and alert, was asking himself if he had done well to listen to her, and thus cross the Place de la Revolution at the risk of suggesting to the Cc nmit- tee of Public Safety the idea, absurd in itself, that he had wished to attract the notice of the populace. The couple now reached the door of the Duplays, in the Rue Saint-Honore, and Robespierre stepped aside gallantly for Cornelie to pass in. At the same moment Olivier, who had stopped in deep fhought at the Place de la Revolution, retraced his steps homeward, fired with a sudden resolution for the morrow. " I will be at that/^/^," he said. And the dark night swallowed him. I . ♦: »! their own her dress beautiful I occasion ways sus- had done ace de la C( nmit- tself, that opulace. Duplays, i stepped topped in retraced esolution CHAPTER VII THE FETE OF THE SUPREME BEI NG The Duplays' house, in which Robespierre lodged, was situated in the Rue Saint-Honore, op- posite the Church of the Assumption. The front door opened on to a large vaulted passage littered with planks propped up against the wall. At the end of this a small courtyard was formed by the quadrangular shape of the two-storied house. The first floor was occupied by the Duplay couple and their two daughters, Cornelic and Victoire. The ground floor was divided into three rooms, including the dining-room and the drawing-room. Robes- pierre lived in a room on the first floor of the left wing, which formed one side of the quadrangle. The ground floor of this wing, along which ran a shed, was used by the old Duplay as a carpenter's workshop. Robespierre's window was above the carpenter's shed, one room, and his quarters were connected with the main building by means of a wooden staircase, which led from his room to the dining-room. He was thus well guarded on one side by the Duplay family, as he was on the other by young Maurice Duplay and Simon, the wooden- 126 legged, I <0 bcspi erre J, who occupied two rooms on a line with Robesp.erre ., which also looked on to the shed It would have been certainly difficult for Robes p.erre to Hnd a house nnuc suited to his craving for an ostentatious display of Republic..,, sin.pltitv Ihe jomers bench, the planks and tools litterin.; thecourtyard,theshed full of worknu-n during th: day, sawu,g, piecing, and planing; the personal ap- pearance of old Duplay, who only put aside his apron to come to table, or to go to the Jacobin Club, at wh.ch he was a constant attendant, or to the Revo- lufonary 1 ribunal, where he acted as deputy jurv- man - all this marked the sin.ple and u.dust-'ioL surroundings in which he Ii\(.d. Two of his colleagues at the Convention had been lately received in the courtyard bv Cornelie Duplay, who was hanging out some stockings to dry; and Robespierre had enjoyed their sul^prise from the window of his room, where he was shav- •ng h.mself. He was suspected of aiming at the Dictatorship. Washed And this was the spec- tacle which met the astonished eyes of visitors who surprised him in his private life I Robespierre and Cornelie had been received at the door by Blount, who barked and gambolled w.th joy at his master's return. The Duplay famdy, cooling themselves in the courtyard, were awaiting their return. " ""•■" ^h^y ^^'-^ ^t last ! " some one cried. It was mother Duplay, seated in the background line with shed. )r Robcs- aving for iniplicity. ' littering iniiig the soiial ap- li-s apron Club, at le Revo- Jty juiy- Justrious ion had -ornelie :ings to surprise ts shav- at the e spec- )is who ived at n hoi led !)uplay , were ground The F^te of the Supreme Being 127 under the dining-room window, washing a salad under the pump, her sleeves tucked up to the elbow, all ears for the slightest sound. " But we are not late, mamnia ! " said Cornelie, who had prudently stopped to avoid being splashed. Not so very," ai.swered the good woman, "but one never knows what may happen in such a crowd ! And looking towards Robespierre, from who,„ V.ctoire was taking his hat and stick, she added : " You can't help being anxious about people you love. Can you ? " But Robespierre was for the moment entirelv occupied with his dog, who barked and jumped on his master in frantic delight. " Yes, you good old dog^ here I am ! ^^'- • • • ^'^'- ■ • • J couldn't take you with me, because of the crowd. It is n't fit for a .ood dog like you." "Then there were many people ? " asked Duplav who smoked his pipe, seated on a ; iner's bench near httle Maurice, his son, who was amusing him- seJf by planing a small plank. " Yes, a great many." "An enormous crowd," added Cornelie, "par- ticularly on the Place de la Revolution " "What! You crossed the Place de la Revolu- tion .i" Robespierre hastened to explain that Cornelie had had a fancy to come that way, which was, after all, excusable, as the people were dancing. 128 RobesTjierre ii " What ! Already ? " asked Victoire, her eyes sparkling, " Yes, already ! " said Robespierre. And he told them all about their walk through the strange crowd, so lively and so full of enthusi- asm, turning now and then to Cornelie for corrobo- ration. But Cornelie wore an absent air, replying only in monosyllables, for she had just learnt that her dress had not yet arrived ; though she took some comfort on hearing that her sisters were in no better plight. Mother Duplay, with arms akimbo, lingered to lis- ten with enraptured interest to Robespierre's narrative. " I said as much to Duplay ! It will be a triumph." Duplay here interrupted her. " Well, are we to have supper to-night ? " " You may well ask, but when Maximilien talks I forget everything." Then taking up her basket of salad, she called Victoire to help her. They used to dine out of doors when the weather was fine ; the table was already there, and had only to be laid. Ah ! that fete — how it turned everybody's head ! Mother Duplay was certainly late, to her great discomfiture. Yes, she was late — she, the pink of punctuality. " And the chicken will be burnt to a cinder ! " She ran to the kitchen, on the ground floor, next to the dining room, and round her youngest daughter, Madame Lebas, already there. i( I eyes The Fete of the Supreme Being 129 " I thought of it, mamma ! " she said. The chicken, nicely cooked to a golden brown, swimming in gravy, was ready to be served, " Now then ! I.i-t us make haste I " said Ma- dame Dupiay, highly amused at being caught by her da.ghter. "Strain the soup while I prepare the salad. Oh, Victoire, we haven't laid the cloth yet ! " With thL- Duplays, it was a long-established custom that everything connected with the kitchen or the table should be entrusted only to the family ; the maid washed up when the meal was over. Per- haps this was an excess of prudence, or a fear of poison. Whatever the motive was, Robespierre highly approved the practice. " It is well to know what one is eating," he would often say. The two girls and iMadame Lebas took it in turns to wait at table, and so they could all speak freely, without being restrained by the presence of the servant. The soup was now served up, steaming hot, and Madame Lebas was ladling it out in equal portions, reserving the last, as the hottest, for Robespierre. "To table! To table!" she cried, placing chairs for every one. But Robespierre and Dupiay did not move. They were deeply interested in something Lebas was telling them. Duplay's son-in-law had just returned from the Tuilerics, where he had gone n 130 Robespierre n n 1 "to feel the pulse of the Convention," as he expressed it. The National Assembly, although undermined by some evil-minded members, would be excellently represented at the pte on the mor- row. The abominable rogues who had charged Robespierre with intending to turn this popular manifestation to his own profit had been disap- pointed—an appropriitc reward for their drivelling calumny f No one attached the slightest impor- tance to their scandalous reports. The Convention, as well as the people, were with Robespierre. Only the Committee of Public Safety . . . " But, I say, children, the soup will be cold," Madame Duplay called out in desperation. Simon the wooden-legged came down from his room, declaring that he was famished. " Here we are ! Here we are ! " the three men exclaimed, taking their seats. Robespierre had m ide a sign to Lebas U) change the conversation on account of the women. Then significantly shrugging his shoulders, he whispered to him — "The Committee of Public Safety? Well, I shall be ready for th :m ! " At table Robespieire, who was seated between Monsieur and Madame Duplay, hardly tasted his soup. "The soup does n't please you, friend .? " " Oh yes I Very good ! H\cellent I " Victoire deared away the soup plates as slowly as i : The Fclc of the Supreme Bchvr i^i possililc, waiting for Robespierre. When he had iinishcd, she said — " That is right, k,i ami. You know you have to keep up your strength for to-incjrrow." Mailan.c l.t-has now returned from the kitehen with the capon, and was greeted by a general mumiur of admiration. " Splendid ! " cried Simoi, Duplay, who was a bit of a gourmand. '' To-morrow, children, you shall have duck, duck and turnips! "said Madame Duplay, much gratilied, as she set to work to carve ih. fowl, giving Robes- pierre the white meat, which he took mechanicalU deep m thought. Lcbas told them that he had seen Fouciu.er-Tinvillc, the Public Prosecutor, who was returning from 'h. Bastille, where he had been to inspect the new installation. "Ah, ves! the guillotine!" interposed mother Duplay, continuing to carve. « But it did n't work to-day, did it ? " " It will not work to-morrow either," said Robes- pierre, " but the day after to-morrow . . .'' "Will you allude to it in your discourse, bon ami f "Yes, towards the end; for it is well that the aristocrats should know that we are not disarming " "Decidedly," chimed in Duplay, "that would be too stupid." Robespierre, warmed by the tone of the conversa- tion, recovered his appetite. I' if' ' 132 Robe spierre " At all events," he said, « the/^^^ to-morrow will be a warning for every one ; for the aristocrats, as well as for many a Judas of the party." He stopped to express his appreciation of the fowl, sending up his plate for more. " A leg, or a wing ? " asked mother Duplay, delighted. Robespierre suddenly turned round. He had heard a noise. " I am sure the front door has just been opened," he said. Simon Duplay took out a match to light a lamp, and young Maurice rose, looking out into the dark. " It 's true," he said ; « it 's a woman with a large " Our dresses, surely ! " exclaimed Cornelie, who had jeen somewhat morose and silent until then. "Yes, our dresses," cried Madame Lebas and Victoire expectantly. It was, after all, only the dresses, which the dress- maker had at last brought. The enormous box was handled by them eagerly ; they wished to open it there and then. However, Victoire, prudently fear- ing to soil the contents, carried it into the dining- room, followed by her sisters. The conversation was resumed with lively interest by the light of the lamp just lit, aiiJ opinions were freely expressed that as Royalty had her fetes, the world would now see what a Republican fete could ■ i The Fete of the Supreme Beine i ^^ he like. It would be truly national, imposing, and symbolical. The young women had not yet returned. " Hullo ! you children ! what are you doing there ? " called out old Duplay. " Here we are [ Here we are ! " answered Vic- toire, appearing that moment on the threshold of the dining-room in a pretty white dress, coquettishly push- ing back her hair, disordered by her hasty toilet. "Doesn't it suit me?" she said. "Oh ! don't look at my hair; it isn't arranged," and she ran down the steps followed by Madame Lebas and Cornelie, also arrayed in their new finery. Mother Duplav scolded her dauo-hters " What ! You dressed yourselves in the dining- room ? Why, it is positively improper ! Is n't it Maximilien ? " ' Robespierre smiled. " Let them alone, bonne mere. It 's not fete every day!" ^ And he looked at the dresses, pronouncing them charming, and in perfect taste. Madame Lebas was in blue, Victoire in white, and Cornelie in red. " The three colours ! " observed the boy Maurice. "W-e wanted to give you a surprise," said Cornelie, advancing towards Robespierre. " Nothing could have given me more pleasure," he replied. « That is what I call true patriotism.''' The noise of hurrying feet, the sound of voices 134 Robespierre aiul music, the hum of Paris in the distance pre- paring for the coming///^, entered through the open window. Fireworks burst in mid-air, then suddenly seemed to radiate in a blaze of glory. " Oh, look ! " exclaimed the boy iMauiicc, as showers of golden fire fell in a cascade of liglu. Robespierre musingly watched their slow descent, which to his overstrained imagination took the form of one huge halo of glory. Robespierre was early up and dressed next morn- ing, and he was received by the Duplavs in the courtyard with cries of surprise, for it was scarcely nine o'clock. " What ! dressed ahead)- ! And wc haven't commenced ! " Robespierre told them he had hastened in order to be at the Tuilerics in time to superintend things a bit, and to ai range matters with his friends, that there might be no hitch. People would talk so! The slightest thing might mar the splendour of the manifestation, which would be a pity on such a splendid day ! "The sky is naturally propitious for the fete of the Supreme Being," said Victoire ; " but you will have some breakfast, I suppose ? " "No, I shall breakfast over there." They now surrounded him, retaining him to arrange the folds of his cravat, or brush grains of powder from the revers of his coat, which they all declared suited him to perfection. He received the compliment with visible pleasure, as he had given ", as light. The Fete of the Supreme Being 135 himself no little trouble over his toilet for the great occasioi). He wore a light blue ccat, nankeen breeches buttoneil above the knees, where a stream of tri- colour ribbons was attached. White silk stockings and buckled shoes completed the array of this real Republican dandy. He was powdered of course, as usual, and had even indulged in an extra pufF or so, but ' most extravagant conceit was displayed in th( . waistcoat which spread like a filmy foam across his breast. The women went into ecstasies over this, and declared his taste exquisite. As he was taking leave, Corndlie appeared with an enormous bouquet of wild flowers and cars of corn in her hand. "And the bouquet?" she asked, giving it to him at the same time. "Ah! yes ! I had forgotte i it. How kind you are! An revoir. I shall : ee you by and by, looking your best, I am sure ! " And Robespierre, spick and span in his new clothes, all curled and perfumed, picked his way daintily across the courtyard. At the door he found Lebas, Simon the wooden- legged, and the boy Maurice Duplay awaiting him. They wished to escort him to the Tuileries. Didier, the agent, now cam( up, accompanied by two of his men, and they all itarted in the direction of the Rue Saint-Honore, cecping to the right. The Incorruptible conversed with Lcbas. 136 Robespierre A breeze stirred the flowers that decorated the front of the houses, wafting abroad their perfume People were filling the streets from all directions all m festive attire, with palms and ears of corn in their hands. On recognising the Incorruptible, they bowed to him; delighted, he discreetly .eturned their salutations. Robespierre had turned into the Passage des Feu.llantes, and found himself on the terrace Here a surprise awaited him. The garden was already, at that early hour, three-quarters full, lookmg like an immense sea with wave upon wave of tricolour ribbons, plumes, and cockades. He contmued his way along the Terrace des Feuillantes a smile on his lips, returning the greetings as he went, and then joined the stream of people moving towards the Tuileries, happy to lose himself in that crowd flocking to his own apotheosis. Flowers festooned the front of the Palace from end to end, lending to it the freshness of spring- When Robespierre arrived he cast a hasty glance at the vast amphitheatre which awaited the National Convention. It was still empty. The amohi- theatre extended from the gardens to the balcony of the Horloge, from which projected a tribune erected above the seats of the deputies - the tribune' of the President, his tribune. It was from there that he would speak to the people, assembled to near and to applaud him. !i The F^te of the Supreme Being 137 Robespierre entered the Palace alone, Lebas and the two Duplays having gone back to the Rue Saint-Honore to fetch the family. Beaminops of gall were already falling into his cup of j„y. Bat as the people began to applaud at the lower end of the gardens, Robes- pierre advanced to the edge of the tribune, and bowed. The expectant crowd swayed as one man towards him, unwilling to lose a single gesture or a single word. So stood the Incorruptible, enwrapped and penetrated by the inebriating vapours of adula- tion and the perfume of all the palms and bouquets that rose as incense at his feet. But again a discordant note was touched, and another voice was heard " See how like a throne the tribune stands ! ^' And in fact, set high above the steps, it did seem raised on a pedestal. Robespierre felt this as in some embarrassment he unfolded his manuscript and commenced. His voice was almost inaudible' except to the members of the Convention seated near him. Passages on which he counted most passed unheeded, and he felt the encouragement of his friends to be indiscriminate and misplaced, like that of some theatre claque. When he had finished he was greeted with considerable applause, that was more formal th.:n 140 Robespierre genuine ; it mounted from the gardens and reached him, mingled with the strains of Gossec's hymn just started by the Opera choir. Robespierre left the tribune dissatisfied with himscif, but convinced that his address to the people on the Place de la Revolution, from the altar of flowers erected at the foot of the statue of Liberty, would retrieve this first failure. There he would be in direct contact with people, and then they would see ! For he felt the people were with him ; their acclamation coming up to him from the gardens was proof enough. He descended the steps, followed by the Conven- tion, and went towards the first fountain on the lawn, from which rose an allegorical group, repre- senting Atheism surrounded bv the Vices, led by Folly, while Wisdom, standing apart, pointed a warning finger at the group. He was to set a match to this ingenious specimen of artistic pyrotechny, when Atheism was supposed to dis- appear, dragged down by Folly and the Vices, leav- ing Wisdom alone, radiantly triumphant. But it was the very opposite that happened. Wisdom caught fire and upset the whole arrangement, pro- voking disrespectful laughter among the deputies. Robespierre turn 1 pale. The/^te had certainly not opened auspiciously. Then, in spite of himself, an instinctive and uncontrollable desire to lean on some one, which always took possession of him in hours of suffering, mastered him. As he looked round in search of a sympathising glance, his eyes The Fete of the Supreme Being 141 fell on a fair, rosy child, in its young mother's arms, trying to play with bouquets of corn and wild flowers which its mother kept from him. Robespierre re- cognised the bouquet which in his excitement he had left on the tribune, and which the young woman now held out to him. This delicate attention fell on his parched soul like refreshing dew, and he gratefully accepted the simple homage offered with such charming frankness. Robespierre now headed the procession, preceded by trumpets and drums, followed by the Convention through the line of National Guards, who kept back the curious crowd on either side of the garden, as the line wound its way towards the swing-bridge which opened on to the Place de la Revolution. The deputies were all there, dressed in official garb : dark blue coat, red collar and cuffs, tight- fitting knee breeches of doeskin, high boots, broad tricolour sashes across the breast, fastened on the left shoulder, and tricolour plumes in their hats. Each member carried in his hand a bouquet of flowers and ears of corn. Robespierre was conspicuous by the diff^erence in his attire, which was of a lighter blue. He walked well ahead of his colleagues, as if to accentuate the distance between himself and them in the eyes of the crowd, who, with keen curiosity, were climbing on stools, on ladders, on the bases of statues, on gates, and even on the trees, to get a better view of him. Thus Robespierre, whose serenity had now returned, n 11 ifli 142 Robespierre advanced towards the Place de la Rc-voIution, where he knew that the greater mass of the people were as- sembled to receive him with thunders t.t" applause. The sound of " Hvat / [Ivat I " was heard in the distance, accompanied by the roll of the Champ- de-Mars cannon, which Hred a resounding salute at regular intervals. Those vivas were welcoming on the Place de la Revolution the cortege which had preceded Rt)bespicrre and the members of the Con- vention; the delegates from the dilFerent sections of Paris, who entered amidst the beat of drums and blare of brass instruments, headed by a standard- bearer. The procession had no sooner reached the square than they parted into two lines ; on one side women and young girls, dressed in white and crowned with roses; on the other, old men and youths, carrying branches of oak and laurel. The crowd, kept back by a rope of tricolour ribbons, received the procession with enthusiastic shouts, chanting with the choirs the choruses of the Chant du Depart. To the passionate strains of Mehul's national anthem succeeded soon after a hymn ap- propriate to the occasion, Gossec's composition call- ing down the benediction of the Supreme Being on France and on humanity. The people applauded, but stopped directly to welcome another group of the Paris section, a com- pany of young Republican warriors dressed in blue and rose-colour, holding aloft lances decked with tricolour ribbons. The greatest triumph of all, -A I I I The Fete of the Supreme Being 143 however, was the group symbolising the Four Ages — Childhood, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age — represented by a multitude of ehildren, youths, maidens, men and women, both middle-aged and old,' some crowned with violets, others with myrtle, oak- leaves, olive-bianches, and vine-leaves. One unan- imous cry of admiration rose from the crowd and resoujided through the immense square, where the sun fell in burning rays on the silks, velvets, and brocades, playing in the gold fringe of flags and banners, and on the many tricolour ribbons and streamers, in a flood of dazzling light. The excitement of the populace was now at its height, and, as the members of the Convention ap- peared in sight, a cry rose suddenly — " He is here ! " " Who ? " " Robespierre." A tremor of curiosity ran through the crowd who, mad with excitemem, poured forth their welcome in a storm of enthusiastic cheers and plaudits, even before their hero came in sight. A sheriff, then a delegate, then a master of ceremonies, were by turns loudly cheered by the eager multitude, who in their mipatience had taken them for the Incorruptible. At last he passed, smiling affably, hat in his hand, and the cry ran from mouth to mouth — " It is he ! It is he ! " This time it was really Robespierre ; there was no mistake. Hats, caps, handkerchiefs, waved on 144 Robespierre all sides ; women niised spra\ s of ioses in the air and men branches of palm. This outburst threatened to break up the cortege of the Four Ages, which, like the preceding one, had ranged itself round the statute of Liberty, where Robespieire was to deliver his discourse. C ildrcn begged their mothers to lift them up, that they might see also. At the same moment the solemn chords of a harp floated on the air. Robespierre advanced slowly, slackening his pace, for he had become suddenly aware of the great dis- tance which separated him from the deputies, who filed into the square six abreast, grave and slow, like judges. The different groups of the procession, who had arranged themselves in regular lines, now un- veiled the statute of Liberty, where an altar of flowers and foliage had been erected. It was at this altar that Robespierre was to officiate, and consecrate amidst the burning of incense the worship of the Supreme Being. The Incorruptible was now passing the very spot where on the previous day the scaffold still stood. A woman in the crowd called attention to this in all simplicity. But her voice was quickly drowned by a hundred harps, whose dulcet music filled the air. All members of the Convention had reached the Place de la Revolution, when a new cortege came in sight, the chariot of Agriculture, draped in blue, covered with garlands of roses, and drawn by a yoke of oxen with gilded horns. The goddess of Agri- s in the air ;> the cortege ng one, had crty, where (' ildrcii they might Icmn chords ng his pace, ic great dis- 'puties, who d slow, like ession, who ;s, now un- \n altar of It was at fficiate, and the worship le very spot 1 stood. A ) this in all drowned by lied the air. ■cached the ege came in ;d in blue, 1 by a yoke ss of Agri- The Fete of the Supreme Being 145 culture was impers.niated by a beautiful girl from •he Opera, who smiled on the crowd with her light blue eyes, looking the very in-.^rnation of Kixuriant youth, her blonde beauty fr imed u, -ipe golden corn and fruits of the rich harve t. Robespierre, no^v staiidu,^ Sefor. the altar, was burning incense in a golden v: ,,od, amidst the mute reverence of the crowd, who behaved as iJ" a.,»isting at some religious ceremony. Presenu^ , descending the steps of the altar, he turned to address the multitude. All music had ceased, each voice was sdenced, every whisper hushed ; even the cries of pedlars and street-hawkers were unheard. A hundred thousand eyes were fixed on Robespierre, who, set up on high and wrapped in clouds of incense, appeared to tower in stature, to dominate that mass of human beings with all the force of a prevailing pride. A sudden inspiration seized him: he would re- peat the more notable phrases of his former discourse, here, to that crowd whose mighty heart he felt beat- ing with his own ; he would have his revenge, and hear his burning words applauded by the nation itself! Ah! had the deputies been indifferent, cold, hesitating in their applause' Well, they should receive a lesson that would be at once a warning and a mandate! The delegates of the nation should be censured publicly by the very nation they represented ! Robespierre had delivered the opening sentences 10 146 Robespierre of his speech. Carried away by the enthusiastic ovation of the crowd, now entirely master of him- self and of his discourse, his words flowed freely and abundantly, and he declaimed without once referring to his notes, in a clear, penetrating voice. Every point was greeted with a thunder of applause as he spoke on, stimulated by a glow of satisfaction which touched the most secret fibres of his being. He felt himself to be for ever and in very deed master of France, acclaimed Dictator, solely by the people's will. Through the fumes of this mad delirium he saw the Convention vanquished, para- lysed with fear and amazement. He was thanking the French nation, who had laid aside their work to lift their thoughts and aspirations towards the Great, the Supreme Being. "Never," exclaimed the Incorruptible, "never has this world which He created ofFered Him a sight more worthy of His regard. He has seen the reign of tyranny, crime, and imposture on the earth " But a stir was noticeable in the crowd, not far from Robespierre. A man had just made an observation in an audible whisper, attracting the attention of the bystanders. They looked at him in surprise, trying to divine his meaning, but Robespierre, who was too far off to have heard, continued — " Frenchmen ' if you would triumph over your enemies, be just, give to the Divine Being the 3 nthusiastic ?r of him- »ved freely hout once ing voice, f applause atisfaction his being, very deed lely by the this mad ihed, para- who had ughts and le Being. ;, " never d Him a has seen re on the d, not far made an ctino; the !d at him ning, but ve heard, 3ver your Being the The Fete of the Supreme Being 147 only offerings worthy of Him- virtue, compassion, forbearance " " With the guillotine ! " called the voice in the crowd, with a bitter laugh. A murmur rose round the man, every one whispering out of respect for Robespierre who continued his harangue. They questioned the man, threatened him. Voices grew louder. " Silence I "' called the officials, but the disturbance went on " He ought to be arrested ' " and the words drunk- ard, aristocrat, chouan, were thrown at him. " What did he want ? What did he say ? " "Yes, what did you say ' " asked a patriot com- ing close to him. " I say only what you ought all to cry out to that charlatan -'Instead of burning incense to your idol, Tyrant, burn the guillotine ! ' " This daring critic, as the reader will guess at once, was Olivier. His voice was drowned in a burst of applause which greeted the words of Robespierre encourag- ing him to go on with his speech. In presence of such irony Olivier lost all self- control. " And they can applaud him, the fools ! They can applaud him ! " The fury of the multitude, now unchained, knew no bounds. Cries of « To death with him ! To death!" were heard amidst the awful tumult, ivhich completely drowned the voice of Robespierre' 148 Robespierre whose anxiety was now also aroused. Olivier, down-trodden, his clothes torn to tatters, fought and struggled in the grasp of twenty or more of the infuriated populace. « He must be killed! He i i an aristocrat ! A chouan ! To death with him ! " One of the patriots lifted a be-ribboned spike in the air, threatening to pierce his eyes. But a man armed to the teeth, dagger and pistols in his belt, pushed aside the crowd and seized the offender by the throat. He then turned and bade them make way for the officers of the peace who followed him. "Stand back there ! " he cried. "This man is to be dealt with by justice only ! " It was Heron, chief police-agent of the Com- mittee of Public Safety. With the assistance of his men Heron dragged the offender to the feet of Robespierre, who, be- ing informed of the affair, had asked to see the interruptor. But a vociferating crowd obstructed the passage. Robespierre imp, ently descended the steps of the altar. The whole Convention and the cortege had moved also, wishing to see. The police forced a way in the crowd for Robespierre. At the name of the Incorruptible the multitude gave way, and Olivier appeared before him, struggling in the powerful grasp of Heron. "Against whom does this madman, who disturbs our/?/^, bear a grudge ? " asked Robespierre. ■s ■ s. Olivier^ fought more of •e killed! leath with ^-ribboned his eyes. id pistols eized the and bade ;ace who s man is lie Corn- dragged vho, be- see the passage. s of the tege had ; forced le name '■ay, and in the disturbs > .4 The Fete of the Supreme Being 149 " Against you ! hypocrite and scoundrel ' " Oli- vier cried ; " against you, who G„re speak of justice and humanity on this spot soaked with the blood you have spilled ! " A horrified scream rose from the crowd, but was as soon hushed at a sign from Robespierre. Olivier tried to throw himself on him, but was held back by the police. " Look at the soles of youi shoes, you butcher ' " he cried desperately. "They are red with blood ! " He was not allowed to continue. The Incorruptible motioned the agents to remove h.m out of reach of the furious and exasperated crowd, who continued to cry out " To death with him ! To death ! " Olivier turned in the grasp of his gaolers and cried — "You can kill me, murder me, ruffians' but I have cried out, as others will cry out after me, Down With the scaffold ! ' " His words were lost in the tumult. Robespierre reascended the steps of the statue, and tried to calm the people. "Citizens!" he said, "let us give ourselves up to the joys of this/^/., which the insuks and out- rages of a rebel shall not disturb ! To-morrow the , sword of Justice will strike with renewed ardour the enemies of our country ! " Loud plaudits followed, and cries of « Long live ISO Robespierre the Republic ! Long live Robespierre ! Long live the Incorruptible ! " "Down with the scaffold!" cried a faint voice in the distance. It was Olivier, whom the police, aided by the National Guards, were carrying away in chains. :9 I i ong live nt voice by the chains. 1 ^^ CHAPTER VIII AN EVENING AT THE DUPLAYS' Robespierre slowly descended the altar steps with a preoccupied air, for that last desperate cry of Olivier had struck its mark. However self-pos- sessed he might be, he had felt the blow acutely. That voice, full of hatred and revenge, had risen from the crowd he thought entirely at one with him! In their very applause at that moment the people were protesting against an insult coming from their ranks ! They were driven to defend him, when he had dreamt that the populace would receive him with instant and unanimous enthusiasm, insur- ing to him for ever the esteem of France ! Pale and anxious, he followed the procession to the Champ de Mars, where the fete was to close with one crowning patriotic dernonstration. He felt that his supremacy was tottering, and wondered how many more discordant notes would disturb the prevailing harmony. Alas! there were already signs of jarring discord. Certain members of the Convention talked aloud in a free, sarcastic strain, on the load, openly exchanging opinions, emboldened by Olivier's public insult. Words of dark and ominous import reached th irs of Robespierre — B^ 152 I'l m U Robespierre words of hatred and scorn, of tragic roreboding, and portentous prophecy. « f despise and hate him ' " said one. ^^ There is but one step fr,.ntbe Tar- pe.an Rock to the Capitol - " said another. / .d a third added: "A Brutus may yet arise'" To c^ose th. ,no.ths of th.se backbiters, he n^entally reflected, and to .avc all, nothing was wanted but ^yoo. ^..,v, ,he supreme and national mandate, uprising from the assembled multitude and re-echoed through the whole of France : "Robespierre Ihc tator ! Dictator for life ! " But the Incoiruptible awaited any such acclaim in vain. ' The f^te of the Champ de Mars which followed was wanting in the brilli.cy and magnificence of 'truirl" K ■'"'' ^'">' "" ^^^ '^^^ -d un. strung. Robespierre again addressed the people who, tired from having stood so long under a burn- ing sun, wei-e listless ,nd absent-minded. Th^ demonstration was drawing to its close amidst I general feeling of depression. Nothing but confusion .-eigned on the march homeward. Robespierre was to return to the Tui- lenes to meet several of his colleagues, but instead, he hurried away, fully .esolved to shut himself up in his room and open his door to no oiie, i.ot even tc the Duplays,who had dogged his steps the whoL way back, try.ng to .^tch him up, and only s- ^e.r- |ng at the threshold .- .eir house, where R^be;:.;. begged them to have their little festive party 'vl h- out him. ^ ^ ■ 4 I" Jij i I 1 ig, and iim I " i I "f An Evening at the Duplays' 153 " I want rest," he said. ''The fete went verv well, didn't it?" asked mother Dupla)'. " Yes, very well ! " replied Robespierre. " Then you are satisfied ? " " Perfectly ' " As Cornclie began to tell him of some details which she thought had escaped him, he put her ofF gently, saying — "Was it so? Indeed! Well, you will tell me that to-morrow." " What ' You will not dine with us ? " "No; I must ask to be excused." And as she pressed him to join them, he repeated — ''No, no; I must beg you to excuse me! Ju revoir till to-morrow' Au revoir < '' With these words he went up to his room and locked himself in. Every one was in low spirits at the Duplays' that evening. They scarcely tasted their supper. No one was deceived by Robespierre's feigned indispo- sition ; they were well aware that the fete had been a great disappointment to him, and they shared his chagrin, though they determined that this should be m no way apparent. " We must not disturb his meditations," observed mother Duplay. "But are we nut going to see the fireworks ? " asked the boy Maurice anxiously. '54 Robespierre i J fl HI "We are not," declared mother Duplay. u How couJd we enjoy ourselves without him? " And they went early to bed. The house, which had awakened to joy, now slumbered s.len.Iy whilst Paris was being lif up ,o prepare for .he populaee, again in holiday ™„„d, the promised display of fireworks Robespierre rejoined ,he Duplays next day at supper. He had spent the morning and afternoon Iceked ,n his room, under pretext of working. And work he dul. Alone, in sullen silence, he pre- pared that atrocious Piairial law, which he intended to lay before Convention forthwith _ a law which aimed at nothing less than the entire suppression of the right of defence before the Revolutionary Tri- bunal. Moral evidence was to suffice , cross- examinations, depositions, and the testimony of witnesses were to be done away with. To be a suspect •• would itself be a proof of guilt Ah ! he had been insulted ! Well, this was his rep yto the insult. He had wished to establish hi dictatorship under conditions of peace, but the great pacific demonstration had not availed him. Were Th" TZ\°"'' '° '^ "'''J"S^«<' ^y >"ror? They shou d have it then, with renewed vigour, in a whirlwind of tempestuous violence carrying every- thing before it. It should be a fearful and mem- orable lesson! Every trace of tho.se stubborn, headstrong rebe s should be swept away by the stroke ot Its formidable wing ! i4 m "How joy, now I lit up to iay mood, it day at afternoon working, e, he pre- : intended w which ession of lary Tri- ; cross- lony of To be a was his blish his the great Were terror ? gour, in ; every- \ mem- ubborn, e stroke An Evening at the Duplays' 155 This law, drafted entirely by him, with its every villainy cunningly concealed, or placed in the light of a sacred duty, and as the only means of assuring public safety, Robespierre would himself lay before the Convention. Thi> deputies, who had been in- sulted in the person of their President by that brawl- ing meddler arrested on the Place de la Revolution, could not but pass the law, after such a scandalous scene. That public insult of the riotous rebel was an excellent pretext. It would help him to take them by surprise, to wring from them the vote which would place entirely at his mercy not only his rivals who had expressed their opinions so freely, but also that rude scoffer, already doomed to die. His trial would not last long! But before his death he should be brought before Robespierre. He should lay bare the most secret recesses of his soul, denounce his accomplices, and disclose his connec- tions and parentage. Such an insult, the cruellest Robespierre had as yet sustained, demanded an ex- emplary prnalty. The death of the man himself would not suffice; he should pay with the heads of every one connected with him in any way - accom- plices, friends, and relations. Ah- the wretch, he had sacrificed not only his own life, but the lives of all near and denr fo him ! Pondering c,;. ,„ ^^c cross-examination he would .0 soon be able to enforce, Robespierre descended 'nto the dinmg-room, where the family had assem- bled for supper. The table had not been laid out- r*.'; ^^^ Robespierre If ^f-doors, partly on account of the unr.^^.Jn weather but more especially to divert Robesp.erre' ar ' by a change of surroundings fromT ^ "' orebc last two day, .ndtt^^i:^^^^ tion. °^ "'-" 'naugura- had h.,f f« I • embarrassing. He i,ad a di;^W r' '"""^ " "-. ^f--". .o have ■ng subjec. of his .l,„ugh... When .he de T,' 1" on however, Robespierre hi„,,,elf ,.„ed Z2Z s on, o. he c..efull, avoided ,he„, and alC; cand,d op,n,on of the previous day's/;,. As ,hev rosorred .o evasions, givin, a h„s. of de- taiis to escape the main quf >n he asl.J ,1, Pla.^wha.thev,hongh,o^ .J,^;,tlt™ It was g,ga„,ie l " said iVIauame Duplay. he4itdrd;:;"'°™"'^'"^-----'''^"'^^" .hc?;.''h:td'be"' r'"''' "- "'""^=' ^'^ ""« "> • ^" ^'"* ^''" '''-^"PPO'ntcd in his dearest hopes , n weather, attention, lembrance esh chan- nd, which inaugu ra- nd affable ing. He > indispo- very one o full of to have Jt him at 1. The :raps of -absorb- rt came conver- eo their of de- i them cess. er's ! " ?art to Jopes } ■I * An Evening at the Duplays' 157 everything must begin over again. Lebas inter- •"upted him. "You exaggerate, I think." Robespierre nplied calmly — " I am so far from cxaggcratitig that I have passed the whole day in preparing my revenge." Here they were interrupted by a knock at the door, and young Duplay rose to open it. "Ah' it is Buonarotti!" they all exclaimed. " What a pleasant surprise ! " But it was not a surprise at all. The demoi- .< les Duplay had invited Buonarotti to supper, a valuable and ever-welcome guest, in so far that he pla the harpsichord to perfection, and used to ac- company I bas, who was always ready to .how his talent on e violin. Buonarotti was an original character, a Corsican by birth, claiming descent from Michael-Angelo. He was an ardent revolutionist, and an enthusiastic admirer of Robespierre. He had begged to be excused from accepting the invitation to dinner, but promised to come in afterwards to cheer up his friend. The family took advantage of his entrance to leave the table and move to the drawing-room, where music was soon started, in spite of the terrible long- ing Buonarotti had to talk politics, and to give Robespierre an account of th different opinions of the /he which he had picked up here and there. But they had dragged him coaxing!/ to the harpsi- chord, laying a sonata ot Mozart before him, of f '58 Robespierre which Lebas had already struck the first bars on his violin. In no other apartment was the hero-worship of the Duplays more evident than in this drawing-room, with Its furniture covered in Utrecht velvet, where' portraits of the Incorruptible faced each other in every conceivable form and position -on the walls on the tables, on the brackets, and even on the harp- sichord ; m crayon, water-colours, plaster-cast me- dallions, bronze, and terra-cotta. This was the sanctuary in which the Duplays loved to congregate under the auspices of their demigod. It was here they spent their evenings, when sometimes a few friends were admitted to the intimacy of the family circle. The young women, seated at the round table, would occupy themselves with sewing or embroidery, whilst the men conversed on one subject or another, more often suggested by some letters or reports among Robespierre's correspondence, which was usually sorted by Lebas or Duplay. The hours were sometimes enlivened by music and sometimes also by recitation. When there was' music Lebas and Buonarotti carried off all the honours, but in recitation it was Robespierre who triumphed, for he had preserved from his youth the love of rhymed and sonorous phrases. As he had read aloud to himself long ago in his little room at the Hotel de Pontivy the burning pages of "La Nouvelle Helo.se," so he read now, an 'st these austere Republican surroundings, the tragedies of '^ 'm bars on his worship of t'ing-room, vet, where I other in the walls, the harp- -cast me- was the ongrcgate was here es a few he family ic round wing or e subject letters or e, which y music, lere was all the rrc who »uth the he had room at of " La it these dies of s An Evening at the Duplays* 159 Corncillc and of Racine, giving himself up to the magic sway of the rhythmic verse, a smile of appre- ciation on his lips. But that evening he was quite preoccupied, and gave but little attention to the music, as he sat with his back to the niaiuelpicce, entirely absorbed in the voluminous correspondence which had just reached him — letters, reports, denunciations and the like. He sorted them feverishly, handing them one by one to Simon the woodcn-legged, who stood near him, either to classify them or to throw them in the waste-paper basket. Mother Duplay, ensconced in a deep armchair, was indulging in her after-dinner nap, whilst old Duplay smoked his pipe, leaning on the window ledge to watch the departure of some of the workmen kept late over some pressing work. Young Maurice Duplay ran backwards and forwards from one group to another, as lively and active as a squirrel. Buonarotti, still at the harpsichord, was now play- ing the hymn to the Supreme Being, by Gossec. The air fell on Robespierre's ears and brought back the previous day's fete to his memory : the proces- sion from the gardens of the Tuileries; the affecta- tion of the deputies in kecpinr so far behind him to make it appear that he had already assumed the role of Dictator ; the whole plot which he felt was under- mining the popular rejoicings; and the untoward scene of that final insult. All this and more was suggested by that hymn composed to celebrate his apotheosis, but reminding him to-day of his defeat. YARMOUTH MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL IIBRARV i6o ■M' n ■ ill 1 1 J fill Robespierre His defeat ! yes, no.l.ing less ,han defeat < These ancnyt^ous letters, inspired by hatred and env .He reports of h,s pol.ce agents, ,n whose obsequious l-.guage a certain e,nbarrassme„t could be detec ed Just then Didter, the chief agent, entered, bring ■"B .he latest news, and when Robespierre asked hi^, Wess,o„ofthe/,-.,hedec,aredittohaveb«: "You are lying I "said Robespierre Brought to bay by the Incorruptible's questions the poltce agent owned the truth. The aft Z been a disastrous failure. ,t was the au f f. organtsers, of Didier's own scouts. Every one in ftct, was to blan,e. The nten hired to ap^au C b en , ,^ p^i, .„ ^^^^^^ TheyL drunk hard, hngered ,n the taverns, and only arrived on the scene when the/?,, was already cLprom led D'Aer gave hitn other details, corroborating the' ortswnb had just reached hi„, and openeVh „f k "(.aiing ot the audacious conduct of his enemies. He called n.,„i t ^""""ct the «,!„,i , 'Jt'play, who was still at the window, to seek counsel with him. But Didier emboldened by the interest which the Incorup We took^u, h,s disclosures, ventured himself to pT:^: be:™::r::p:;:;:;'"''"=^^'^' "'•'=«-'«-■» And he confessed that the young fanatic's cry of •f defeat I These itred and envy, s emphasised by 'hose obsequious >uld be detected. , entered, bring- Jierre asked hini it to have been e. t>le's questions, The affair had le fault of the Every one, in to applaud had 'hey had drunk ily arrived on compromised, oborating the id opened his 'espierre was ious conduct o was still at But Didier, Incorruptible If to proffer guillotine is itic's cry of An Evening at the Duplays' i6i " Down with the scaffold ! " at the fete, seemed to have been trembling on the lips of a considerable number of the spectators, who were more than half inclined to protect the insulter from the violence of the crowd. "They are heartily sick of it," he continued. /'Another proof of this is the protest the inhabitants near the Bastille have been making against its erec- tion there. The Committee of Public Safety had to see into the affair to-day in your absence, and have decided that the guillotine should be transported to the Barriere du Trone." This last piece of news exasperated Robespierre beyond measure. What ! His colleagues of the Committee dared to take such an iniportant step in his absence ? And that, too, the very day after he had been publicly insulted ' \n truth, the moment was well chosen to show themselves ashamed of the scaffbld! And :is Robespierre questioned Duplay on the nurr.ber of prisoners condemned during the day, he was astor.ished to learn that there were only hfteen. Had the Tribunal then been won over by the Conspiracy of the Lenient ? However, the carpenter assured him that it was simply a coinci- dence, for he had heard Fouquier-Tmville, the Public Prosecutor, remark at the conclusion of the sitting that if things continued at this rate there would never be an end of it. There were, it ap- peared, at that moment seven thousand piisoners under lock and key. II I'll • i if III I m I 162 Robespierre "Fouquier-Tinville is right," said Robespierre; " things move too slowly." "But how can they go quicker? " asked Duplay, who regarded his juryman's duties as sacred. " Have patience ! I have my plans." " May wc hear them ? " " You shall know to-morrow. I must first of all make an example of that young fanatic, with whom it is time to deal," And turning to Didier he asked " Where is he ? " " A few steps from here, at the police station of the Rue Saint-Florentin, where Heron has locked him up, pending your orders." "Very well! Bid Heron bring him here; I wish to examine him instantly." The peremptory tone admitted no reply. Didier wishing the company good-night, left the room with Simon Duplay, whom the Incorruptible had charged with several messages, and Corn61ie, taking advan- tage of their departure, called Robespierre to the harpsichord. " And now, I hope you will take a little notice of us," she said, coming towards him in half petu- lant, half coquettish mood. Robespierre, softening at her approach, kissed her hand. Only let him have the time to answer a letter from his friend Saint-Just, and he would be entirely at her disposal. And he seated himself at the round table to write. Only Buonarotti played » Robespierre ; asked Duplay, iacred. must first of fanatic, with lice station of n has locked him here ; I ply. Didier, he room with ■ had charged aking advan- )ierre to the little notice in half petu- h, kissed her to answer a he would be d himself at irotti played An Evening at the Duplays' 163 now. Lebas had laid down his violin, and whilst filling his pipe asked Robespierre for news of the Army of the North, where Saint-Just then was. All was going well there. Robespierre had also good news from his brother Augustin, then at Lyons, and on the point of returning. Augustin warmly recommended to him a young general of the artillery whom he had known at Nice, and who had already distinguished himself at Toulon. " Augustin tells me that this young man could replace, to some advantage, that drunkard Hauriot as commander of the armed force of Paris," Buonarotti, who was still at the harpischord, turned at the mention of Toulon. " Bonaparte ? " he said. Robespierre looked across. He knew him, then ? Yes, he knew him. They had lived together in Corsica. And as the Incorruptible asked what were the sentiments of the young soldier, he re- plied — '' Excellent. He is Republican to the core." " Well, we shall see," said Robespierre, favour- ably inclined to a change, adverse as he was to the idea of a military commander remaining too long in the same post. And he began his letter to Saint-Just, at the same time lending an ear to Lebas, who was telling Du- play of certain rumours coming from the army of the aspiration of some of its chiefs to the dictator- ship. But Duplay interrupted him cp^^ 164 Robespierre (( Saprhti! I had almost forgotten ! " Robespierre raised his eyes inquiringly. " I have a letter also to give you," "From whom?" asked the Incorruptible, reas- sured as soon as he knew it was only a letter. "From a prisoner, 1 tnink, who very innocently confided it to one of our spies. It was given to me just now at the Tribunal." Duplay searched in his pockets, and having found the letter, handed it to Robespierre, who continued writing. " Look at it with Lebas," he said. Lebas took the letter, and going to the mantel- piece, commenced to read it by the light of a candle Duplay, in the act of filling his pipe, looked over nis shoulder. It was Clarisse's letter to Robespierre, and read thus — " I should not write to you if I had only my own hfb to plead for. But I have to protect that of two children, my niece imprisoned here with me and a son of nmeteen years, who may be arrested at any moment and sent to the scaffold, and good God by whom ! n „ ^ Llarisse. ' Robespierre had now finished his letter to Saint- Just, and whilst closing it, asked " Well, and the letter ? " " It is a woman who supplicates you for her niece imprisoned with her," answered Lebas. ^ ! " uptible, reas- i letter. i'y innocently > given to me having found lio continued the mantel- t of a candle. looked over re, and read nly my own that of two h me and a sted at any good God, -ARISSH." er to Saint- 3u for her bas. An Evening at the Duplays' 165 Robespierre, annoyed, stopped him, saying curtly that he received twenty such letters every day. " She also supplicates you for her son," added Lebas, still perusing the note. Robespierre simply shrugged his shoulders and sealed his letter to Saint-Just. " Always the same refrain ! " he said. " Shall I throw it in the basket, then ? " " Yes, do, for goodness' sake ! " But Duplay took the letter from Lebas's hands, twisted it into a spill, and ignited it at the candle to light his pipe. Robespierre now rose and went towards the harpsichord, where he was received with joyous exclamations. " Here you are at last ! " Cornelie whispered a few words to Ruonarotti, and placed a new piece of music before him. " As a reward," she said, " Buonarotti wh. jing you one of his latest compositions." " And the words are bv a friend of yours," added Madame Lebas, with a mysterious air. Robespierre, puzzled, asked the name of this friend, but Victoire wished him to guess, and when he demurred a battle of words ensued, in which his stronger will prevailed. " Very well, then ! We wili tell you the poet's name." And as he was all attention, they exclaimed in chorus — 1 66 Robespierre "Maximilien Robespierre ' " The Incorruptible smiled. What were they ^alk ing about ? He the author of a poem ' " "Yes." Before he had time to protest, Cornelie recited the first verse " Crois-moijeune et belle Ophilie ..." Ah yes! They were right. Robespierre re- membered the piece now. He had composed it at Arras, and read it in public before the Society of the Rosati, of which he was a member He went on with the verse from memory, while Cornelie followed in the book ~ " Si flaneur que soit ton miroir, Sots charmante a'vec modestie, Pais semblant de n'en rien sa^voir. ' ' What ! had Buonarotti really set that to music ' Robespierre was very curious to hear it. " With pleasure ! " said the Corsican Madame Lebas, seated at the piano, struck the first chord of the accompaniment, and Buonarotti commenced the song. Every one had gathered round the smger. The first verse was greeted with loud applause Ah how pretty it was! How well the music ch.med m with the words! What simplicity I What grace ! ^ } • Robespierre, delighted, joined in the chorus of praise, congratulating Buonarotti. I An Evening at the Duplays' 167 ere they talk- nelie recited 'espierre re- composed it the Society mber. He nory, while to music ? struck the Buonarotti gathered pplause. the music implicity ! -horus of Suddenly every one stopped. An ominous cry came through the open window — " Buy to-day's list of the condemned." It was the voice of newsvendors calling out the result of the day's sluing at the Revolutionary Tribunal. The Incorruptible showed signs of un- easiness. Buonarotti had already begun the second verse — " Sur le pounjoir de tes appas Demeure toujour s alarmee . . ." But a new cry was heard — " Winning numbers ! , . . Lottery of Sainte- Guillotine ! Buy ! Buy ! " " Shut that window ! " Robespierre called out impatiently. The boy Maurice ran to do so. " Why ! " he exclaimed, " here is Heron, and three people with him." At Heron's name Robespierre turned round sharply, and as every one seemed surprised at the untimely visit, he explained — " Oh, it 's all right : I expected him. He is bringing the young villain of yesterday's fete.^^ '■'■ Ah yes," said the women, " the chouan of the Place de la Concorde ! " and they looked curiously towards the door, at which the new-comers were now knocking. " Come in ! " cried Duplay. Heron entered and bowed to every one in the room. 1 68 Robesp lerre f i " Is the culprit with you ? " asked Rnk nervously. ^ Robespierre was ordered to introduce the prisoner H' turned and signed to two me. who .n"!; escorting Olivier nale .nH I 1 . '^PP^^red behind his back T t 1 ''"' ' '" '""'^ ^'^^ in. . r> , ^ ""S "'^"' "° '°nger resist- 'ng, ^^emed already to ofl-er himself as a viaim He ,s a nice-looking fellow," observed Madame A>ebas, in a low voice ^^laaame sullenly aside. Robespierre ll' ''°°^ unaei arrest, the prisoner had let fall som. -rds y w ich Heron understood ,ha. hi, IZr arrested w„h a yo.ng gi,-l he loved, wa, .hrrat "d' w..h .he scaffold. B,„ ,„„ his i.pnsonr " had been con,pIe,ely „,u,e. No one had been ab e :Jxr'''' ''7 ''•"''"' '''"^^ -^''''<^^' very bkely remained thus had no, Madame Beau ere',:': f"^-,"""^^^-"""^'-^ -^-o- «X come ,o ,he pol,ce-s,a,lo„ for ,he purpose of ob t^m.ng some parriculars of ,he arre,, b ,■ wblch had reached her Frol I 1 """' °' • """' 'I": description of Robespierre lative, and ^ Heron ' appeared hands tied 'ger resist- ictim. ! Madame fectly in- on, stood istrustful, om head ice from le asked ' before, JJ some mother, eaten ed lent he en able d have Beau- ^ocher, of ob- 'ws of on of An Evening at the Duplays' u the young man she fancied he might be one of her lodgers, who had arrived the day before, and in- scribed himself under the name of Germain, black- smith's apprentice. Brought face to face with the prisoner, she exclaimed immediately, ^' Oh yes ' it is he ! most certainlv ' " " And his papers ! " asked Robespierre. " He had none ! Not even a passport ! They had only found in his possession a set of keys, some paper-money in assignats^ a pocket-book, and some small change in a purse." As he spoke. Heron placed these articles on the table. " And no arms ? " interposed Robespierre again. The police-agent replied in the negative. " Untie his hands. We shall see if they are a workman's." Duplay examined them, the women watching with great interest the while. The carpenter de- clared it to be very possible, as the hands looked used to handling wood and iron. " In war, most likely ! " said Robespierre. The Incorruptible then stated his suspicions more precisely. The man was perhaps a chouan^ come in disguise from Vendee to stab him in the excitement of the fete! The women cried out in horror at the thought, and added, " Of course he was not without accom- plices ! " As this idea fastened in his mind, Robespierre wished to know if the young man's roor.i h.. ', been "1SSP lyo Robespierre searched Heron had not neglected to do so, as could well be imagined ! He had, however, only found a kw scattered clothes and a valise, which one of his men had with him. He had brought it to open before Robespierre. " Why did n't you say so, then ? Be quick and open It ! " Heron tried a set of keys, and after some delay the valise was unlocked. The police-agent examined its contents, and enumerated them: linen, articles of toilet, and an •vory caWca mounted in silver. He took out the 'vory ca.U^ .vhich drew a cry of admiration fVom mothe. |>:,uay, and passed it from hand to hand Heron then drew forth a rather heavy roll, from which he tore the paper wrapper, disclosing a num- ber of /.«/, d'or. He deposited them on the table and set to work to count them, remarking, that' the young apprentice was, after all, richer" than himself! Meanwhile the agent continued his search. " Ah, some letters ! " he exclaimed. " Give them to Lebas," said Robespierre. Lebas took the packet from the agent's hands "Go and examine them by the mantelpiece under the lamp," Robespierre continued, "and tell me their contents." The curiosity of the women had now reached its height Heron had drawn out a gold medallion, encircled with small pearls. > do so, as wever, only ilise, which brought it e quick and some delay itents, and et, and an ok out the ation from i to hand, roll, from ng a num- the table, rking that :her than ch. c. hands. ice under tell me •ached its ledallion, An EveninL^ at the Duplays' 171 " Those are real pearls," observed mother Duplay. The medallion was opened, and found to r n a lock of fair hair, with the initials M. T. i he jewel was handed round, admired, and examined carefully, giving rise to all sorts of reflections, in Olivier's presence, who looked on apparently un- concerned. Robespierre was exasperated at this indifference. He knew, however, how to restrain himself, and said mockingly — "You will no». tell me, I suppose, 'hat there i; nothing extraordinary for a sum of money like that and such jewels to be found in the possession of an apprentice ? " Heron insinuated thrt perhaps he had stolen them, at which Olivier simply shrugged his shoulders, Duplay endorsed Heron's opinion. In fact, he had not the slightest doubt about it. The young man had stolen them. Olivier could bear it no longer. "Everything there belongs to me ' " he said. And as they si .?med still to doubt, he repeated in a loud voice — " Everything belongs to me I And, since you seem so anxious about it, know that I am an aristo- crat, a royalist, and a chouan ! " The men cried out almost with one voice — " At last ! He owns it ! " Olivier took up the word at once. " Very well ! Since I have owned it, whv don't IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4 A % y. % 5^ 1.0 1.25 If i^ IIIIIM •^ l« 12.2 2.0 Li 1.8 U IIIIII.6 V] <^ /^ /: 4. cry 4W * n iU_x . !-•_ Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ «v iV 'i^^ ^; ^1\. ^\ % •o- '<^^^ ^ ^%.^ ^■^ ^ .A .f(^ ^ J%^ ,- sha„ no. ha.e Zl^'::." '""-"^ i^ebas, having finished the letter. .. r and Robespierre gave him J ' ""' ^°'^^''^' T^he letters, he said e / ^"'^^'""'"g glance. T^eyhad^ee::!?:^^::^^'"^-'^^^^^^ bore no address or signatures of ^"''' '^°' ^"^ ■s.gned Marie Thcres J 7 "L^^ ^-o girl, the prisoner's sister or ^T ^' '"" ' ^^""^ Bnr rl ' •^'^''^^'"'t'alsonit." "dearmen, and advice. The , L " '""^ °' 'ainly tha, of an ari„ocrae O ^ ""' """' "'" dated lyqi-^ave, tT ""'>'°"'' letter- i/yi ga\,g ^ slight ndiranV.„ one. ^ 'nd.cation, a very vag„e Robespierre pricked up his ears - And the contents of that letter.^ "he asked I^ebas scanned it once more. It J^.t^;^,^ ■thwith to the "ot to be in is name. As ^ould have to 'earn it from ust have his ' as well, for. tain .' 3" will find •■ ironically. 'ne forward, 'ng glance. I particular. "■s ago, and nee. Two "" a young ^" put in did three terms of most cer- letter — ery vague sked. ed 1791, An Evening at the Duplays' 173 from a country place in one of the suburbs of Paris, and addressed to the young man, then a student, by his grandfather, who seemed also to be his godfather, for he says : " I shall expect you to-morrow evening, for my fete and yours, the Feast of St. Olivier." "Is Olivier, then, his name.'" inquired Robes- pierre, looking at the young man. But Lebas continued reading. " The valet, my dear child, will not fetch you this time. At fifteen a lad ought to be able to travel alone." "The letter being dated May, 1791, the young man must be now nineteen," Lebas observed. " Nineteen ! yes, just nineteen ! " repeated Robes- pierre, as if a thought had struck him. " Go on ! Go on .'' What comes next .'' " Lebas continued : " My travelling-coach will wait for you in the Rue des Lions, before the door of the hotel." " There can be only one Rue des Lions in Paris, the Rue des Lions-Saint-Paul .? " interposed Robes- pierre, more and more impressed, and still looking intently at the youth, " Just so ! " Lebas answered. " Go on with the letter ! Go on ! " Lebas resumed his reading : " Bcnoit ..." " The concierge ! " interrupted Robespierre, scarcely able to hide his emotion. Lebas went on : " Benoit will open the shutters of the little room leading out of my study to the garden. In a bookcase, the one surmounted by the 1 i; / 4 Robespierre OWr loot,, „ ,.„,_ ,^ ^^^^,_^^ J^J. h,™. Leba k" I. '^'■''"' ''" /•'»■/'««," repealed *- „ V "' '"'"' '''<' y™ know ? •• '^ Kobesp.crre, masterine his fr^l;„„ ■"PaHla.e„c,a„d,.a.,o.;ia„t'r^'^:::'"°' Ol.v,er turned deadly pale, and J j , , -ey a. ,he baek of a'ch ir fof supper, „ mother was lost ' F^ i support. Hit -nishn,e„ ad g IT Tb:""," "''"'''"' '"" - Then RobespierrfC ^7"^*'^'^ -ords. An Evening at the Duplays' 175 him. \Vc arc too many here ; I shall call \ ou back presently. Let Heron and the police-agents wait in the courtyard." Every one prepared to leave the room, looking rather disappointed, specially the women, who won- dered what would be the outcome of it all. As Lebas was passing out Robespierre stopped him. " Don't go," he said, « I may want you." And the three men remained alone. The flnher was face to face with his son ' Robespierre's anger had all melted before this sudden revelation. He preserved, however, a stern countenance, subduing the almost uncontrollable emotion which threatened to overpower him He was still struggling with it, trying to regain posses- sion of himself, and, moved by a natural impulse, he told Olivier in a gentle voice to be seated. The prisoner, however, did not heed him, and when Robespierre repeated his words even more persuasively, and in a trembling voice, Olivier still paid no attention. Seeing Lebas shrug his shoul- ders, intimating that Robespierre was reallv very good to insist, the Incorruptible explained — his eyes still fixed on Olivier -that it was but natural for him to show kindness towards the grandchild of a man whose secretary he had been for eighteen months. The young man stared back in surprise. "They never told you, then.? "said Robespierre. 176 Robespierre " Of course not. . . • They loathe my very name, your people, do they not ? " But he immediately added, to Lobas's astonish- ment, that this was no reason why he should forget his stay in Monsieur de Pontivy's house. He could not help thinking now of the happy evenings he had spent there and the many pleasant meals of which he had partaken, side by side with Olivier 's mother. 1 hat dim, sweet spirit of the past, which the young man's presence had called from its grave, had soft- ened his heart strangely towards him. But Olivier interrupted him harshly. Robes- pierre might harden his heart again, then ' His life was m Robespierre's hands ' He could take it if »t pleased him to do so. All the family had been victims to the Revolution : his grandfather who died of grief, his uncle killed in Vendee, his father mor- tally wounded defending the cause of the King " But your mother ? She is alive ; you have nol the right to sacrifice her life ! " Robespierre went on thus carefully, trying by well- placed insinuations and questions to wring the truth from him. If Olivier had cried « Down with the scaffold !" it was because he trembled for his mother's life.? . . . because she was arrested.? " Am I not right in this .? " he urged, with deep anxiety. « Is she not arrested .? " But he was met by a blunt denial. And so the struggle between father and son went on; the former impatient to learn the woman's y very name, An Evening at the Duplays' 177 hiding-place, the latter firm aiul unshaken in his re- fusal to betray it to one whom he regarded as a tiger seeking his prey. Robespierre, though wounded by every syllable, continued his soft persuasions. What! was it possible Olivier could not understand his wish to protect his mother, and to place her out of harm's reach, in memory of the time he had passed so happily at her side ? Olivier smiled in bitter irony. Robespierre need not waste his words. He well knew he had too much pride to allow any such remembrance to inchne him to leniency. Ah, there were memories in that sweet past, as he called it, for which his mother would pay with her head! Friendship^ Robespterre\ friendship I Why, it paved the road to the scaffold! All his friends had trodden that deadly path. A cry of indignation escaped Lebas, but Robes- pierre quieted him in a husky voice, himself a prey to the most feverish agitation. The lad's head had been turned by the chouans ! He was not respon-i- ble for what he said ! Then turning to Olivier he tried, with a ring of sadness in his voice, to persuade him that had he been a tyrant he would have punished his insolence, he would not have attempted to reason with him. But Olivier remained un- moved. This kindness was assumed, he told him- self, to hide some dastardly plot ! Robespierre only wanted to find his mother that he might avenge her 178 Robespierre .» -ii : I ' son's insult on herself. I„ .ai„ the Incorruptible protested, deeply grieved and wounded. Olivier stoutly maintained his position, declaring that Robes p.erre was not a man to pardon any one who had pubhcly .nsulted him with such outspoken contempt and hatred. ^ " Wretch ! " cried out Lebas. But Robespierre signed to him to stop. Hatred ? That word in the young man's mouth sounded like blasphemy. And trying to master himself, that his voice should not tremble, he asked him _ " Then you do hate me very much ? " " Olivier again furiously asserted his abhorrence and was met by the question — ' " When have I ever wronged ) ou ? " ^ At this Olivier, losing self-control, nearly betrayed his secret. ^ "Wronged me ! . . . When have you wronged me.-' the young man repeated. "Wasn't it through you that my mother was ..." But recollecting himself he stopped' short. "Arrested ? " put in Robespierre. " No I " exclaimed Olivier. And then the struggle recommenced. Robespierre was, however, quite sure now of the arrest. What he wanted to know was the name of the prison to which the two women had been taken and he came near to the chair by which the prisoner was standing. Olivier instinctively recoiled a step Robespierre, completely exhausted, made one lasi e Incorruptible nded. Olivier 'ig that Robcs- '' one who had oken contempt top. Hatred ? 1 sounded like mself, that his 1 — ? " ' 5 abhorrence, 'arly betrayed you wronged "VVasn't it ihort. now of the the name of been taken, the prisoner 'iled a step, de one last An Evening- at the Duplays' 179 effort. He implored the young man to lay aside h.s m.strust and hatral, to help hin, to save those who were so dear to him. " To help you to kill them, you mean ' " Robespierre started fron, his seat, exasperated beyon measure. This was going too far - Olivier n ust be mad - Could he not, would he not realise that the very way to kill the two unhappy women was to leave them for the executioner to do his work Their turn would soon come. Oliver ^''"'' '^°'' "''' '''"'' ^'■'"" '■"^^'•••"Pted What madness ' Perhaps at this verv moment they were entering the cart which was to'take them o the Revolut.onary Tribunal, and the next day to he scaffold. It was Olivier who was sending then, o death, and all because he was too obstinate to say the word which would save them ' He was a blind unnatural son ; he would kill his own mother ' Ol.v.er, though amazed at Robespierre's persis- tence, remamed unshaken. "Are you so thirsty for her blood.?" he cried, hurhng at him this last insult. At these words Robespierre lost all self-control. Fool! he cried, "insensate fool! "as he paced the room m unrestrained excitement. But Lebas had heard enough. " Let us have done with this madman," he said hurrymg towards the door to call in the police^ agents. ^ ^^ If 1 80 IS't Robespierre m l\ But Robespierre turned round " No ! Not yet ! . . ." Lebas, pretending not to have heard, called out _ " Heron I Her ..." Robespierre threw himself un him, and pinning him to the wall, said breathlessly — " Don't call, I tell you ! Don't call 1 " Then lowering his voice he muttered in a dry whisper — ^ " Be quiet, man, 1 say ( Be quiet ! . . h is my son ! " " Ah ! " and Lebas looked at him in s, upefied amazement. When he had sufficiently recovered from his surprise, he asked in a low voice ~ " Why do you not tell him so ? " Could Robespierre tell him ? Tell the lad who loathed him! Would he believe him? Olivier would say it was false, or how could he hate him so? " ^1";^ "° •' I ^^««^/ tell him that I am his father! he said sadly, sinking down exhausted on a chair. Lebas took his hand and pressed it sympatheti- cally, deeply touched. " You are right ! " he murmured. And turning to Olivier he said aloud — himr '" let us discover the prisoners without Olivier understood that matters were becoming very serious. However, Robespierre looked dis- An Evening at the Duplays' i8i cournged. How was it poss.ble to find the women under the.r assumed names, in Vendee ' But Lebas remarked that theym.ght be in Pari. At th" to r,tLe ' ' ""'"'^'"^' '"'"'''' ^'^''' ^'^ "'^^ ^^'■' "Why," he continued -"why should he be so far from them ? " The point of th.s remark struck Robespierre, ''^es, to be sure; you are right," he said and -nten^retrngLebas's thoughts he U^ him tak carnage and drive to each prison and interview every woman t at had been arrested with a young girl that he d,d not th.nk the night would suffice ; there were so many women arrested with a daughter or a younger sister. And what if Olivier spoke the truth, and h,s mothc 'ad been inscribed on the pnson-.eg.ster under another name _ her husband's for instance ? ' " Maulu^on,;- nnerruptcd Robespierre, the name suddenly rccurrmg to him. wtT '"fr"' ' '"^"^"°^ ^'-^"^ ^'^ P°^ket. VVas he a soM.er, or a magistrate, this Maulu.on > Robcsp.errc could not say. All he knew of him was that among the people represented as having gone into mourning for Louis XVJ. he had seen the names of Po.nivy, his .on-in-law Maulu.on, and h.s daughter Clarissc. ^ taking.'"'"'' ■' " "'^"'''"' ^"■'"'^' ''"^P''"S his note- lS2 Robespierre , i. Robespierre lookec) at him in surprise. In what way could that name interest him ? Lcbas had now closed his note-book, deep in thought. C'larisse ? Olivier's mother was called Clarissc r But the woman who implored Robcsp!crrc\ clemency for her son, aged nineteen, the woman whose letter he had refused to read just now . . . "Was signed Clarissc.-' " cried Robespierre breathlessly. "Yes,^' rephed Lebas. " That is his mother' "... And pointing to the young man, who was on the brink of swooning. " You see, it is she ' Look at him ; there is no mistaking, it is she ' " " She is at the prison of La Bourbe, then," said Lebas. Robespierre could no longer hide his joy, at last he knew where to find them ! But he was interrupted by a cry of pain. Olivier, thinking his mother now irretrievably lost, had fainted away. Robespierre ran to him, and bending over tried to bring him to consciousness, gently reassuring him, swearing he was going to give the prisoners their liberty. But Lebas, who was also bending over the young man, reminded the Incorruptible that Olivier nu longer heard him. Then Robespierre, with infinite precautions, assisted by Lebas, lifted him into an armchair, and taking a bottle of scent left behind An Evening- at the Duplays' 183 by the ladies, gently bathed Olivicr's temples with the perfume. Lcbas, rather anxious lest Robes- pierre's paternal solicitude should be discovered, re- mained on the watch, imploring him to be prudent. " Some one might comt in ' " he urf^ed. Robespierre, entirely taken up with Olivier, shrugged his shoulders. " Lee them come ! " he said impatiently. " I have a right surely to pardon mv own son ' " Lebas recalled him to reality. No ! he had no right to pardon a chouan^ who had insulted the Republic the >lay before in pres- ence of the whole nation. Robespierre's enemies would seize the occasion to cite the example of Brutus sacrificing his son to the interest of his country. They would exact from him a like proof of patriotism. . . . Robespierre was trying to loosen Olivier's cravat, but not succeeding asked Lcbas's assistance. After all, he was right, especially as his enemies on the Committee of Public Safety, out of hatred for him, would kill the lad all the quicker. Opening the collar gently, he continued the while to reason about it, saying that the only means of saving him was to throw him brutally into prison, so as to mislead them, and to get him out secretly after three days. The young man heaved a sio-h. " He is coming to," said Robespierre, checking his speculations. i84 Robespierre i> i; ri Lebas observed that it was high time to let others come in ; they would wonder at the length of the cross-examining. Robespierre assented, his eyes fixed on his son, who seemed now coming to him- self. As the Incorruptible bent over him to as certain if this was so, his lips touched the pale rorehead. But he heard steps, and had only time to pull h'mself up, when Heron entered, followed by his men. ^ Heron looked straight at Olivier, who had now recovered his senses. "What! Did he faint .?" he asked. Robespierre had regained possession of himself and at once assumed a brutal demeanour. Yes' the scoundrel had been playing a farce, and an mfamous farce too ! The family now entered also, brimmmg with curiosity and questions. " Has the young man made a confession > " "No; but he has betrayed himself, and I know all that I desired." C-neral satisfaction was expressed. At last then, he was caught, and his accomplices' At this moment Madame Lebas and Victoire dis covered in what a sad state Olivier was. Had he been .11, then r They would have come to him • but Robespierre stopped them, assuming contempt' " It was better," he said, « to leave the young madman alone, for he really did not deserve that any one should take interest in him." An Evening at the Duplays' 185 " Monster ! " Olivier groaned. Robespierre had heard the word. He took hold of Lebas's arm, as if for support, and pressed it convulsively. Then, in a voice which he tried to render harsh, he told him to conduct Olivier to the Prison de la Force. ; leron had only waited for this; and his men seized their prisoner, who at the roughness of the police-agents gave a sharp cry. "You brutes!" exclaimed Robespierre, in a faltering voice, taking a step towards his son in spite of himself But Lebas stopped him. " Be careful ! " he whispered. Robespierre sat down, realising his imprudence. Lebas again whispered to him " Don't be uneasy, I will watch over him." And telling the men not to handle the prisoner too roughly, he went out with them. Robespierre watched his son disappear, and when he had gone he felt some one take his hand. This made him tremble, ft was Cornclie. How tired he seemed ' Every one was around him now. That young madman had given him terrible trouble, hadn't he : " Yes," he replied, wiping his temple, « it was very trying ! Exceedingly trying ! " Duplay remarked that, judging from the length of the cross-examination, he must have learnt some- thing very important. Robespierre made a gesture, as if protesting. Then ing jptlv he took I ! l\l !l !l 186 Robespierre leave of the company, on the pretext of ureent work. ^ " The lad can rest assured," said Duplay, " it is his death-warrant our friend has gone to sign." "What a pity I " observed Victoire; "the young fellow seemed so nice ! " But mother Duplay stopped her daughter indig- nantly, asking her if she was mad. What would the Incorruptible say if he could hear her > l> ) i< ii ; "«Wv.. t of urgent play, " it is sign." the young liter indig- 'hat would CHAPTER IX HOURS OF ANGUISH Once in his room, Robespierre sank exhausted into a chair. At last he was alone ! He could now give free vent to his long suppressed emotion. The feeling uppermost at the moment was one of dread dismay, as the terrible position rose before his mind, with all its fearful consequences. He gave no thought to the insult, it was the fate of the two women which haunted him. If he saved them it would atone for all in the eyes of his son. They had been arrested, thrown into prison, and cast for death, but he would set them free. Who had arrested them ? What had they done ? Were they implicated in some seditious plot which would render it difficult to deliver them? As to Olivier's release, he would see to that. By causing things to drag a little, Olivier's trial could be put off until Robespierre had the power in his own hands, and could act as he liked towards his son. It was after all his concern, for it was he whom Olivier had insulted, and not the Republic, which he could not yet impersonate. Had he even been proclaimed dictator,and sole representative of France 1 88 Robespierre n I i i he would, he supposed, have had the right to pardon It would seem but natural that his first act on ac- cession to power should be an act of clemency I The most important thing then at present was that Ulivier should remain in prison as long as possi- ble under the closest supervision. But again, why had the women been arrested ? By whose orders ? They were perhaps at that very moment at the Conciergerie, on their trial, before the Revolutionary Tribunal. He could, no doubt secure their acquittal, but what if the inquiry brought Uhvier s name to light ? ^ " I am wandering ! " he caught himself exclaim- 'ng. How, Indeed, could the name of Olivier be mentioned during the trial ^ The young man had nothing to do with it. He had insulted Robespierre It was to him personally he had to answer The Incorruptible rubbed his eyes, unable longer to follow the thread of his own thoughts. He was suddenly reminded of the law to be submitted by h.m next day to the Convention, the vindictive law which would ensure conviction without proof, evi- dence, or even cross-examination. This law would be of twofold service to him ; it would rekindle the Terror, would help Robespierre to get rid of those who were still in his way, and be the mean- of reducing the two women to silence, thus savin. not only Olivier's life, but theirs also. Olivier would then see that Robespierre was not the monster he imagmed, for he would owe the lives of his Hours of Anguish 189 mother and of \<,% fiancee to him, the very man he had so wantonly insulted ! Robespierre's reflections were suddenly inter- rupted by a knock. He started up. Some one was calling him. He listened, and recognising Lebas's voice, hastened to open the door. "I saw a light through your window," said Lebas, « and knew you had not yet gone to bed." " Well, what have you learnt ^ " Robespierre asked anxiously. " They are still at the prison of La Bourbe." " Both of them ? " " Yes, both of them." " Ah ! " sighed Robespierre, with relief. "And I have given strict instructions in your name, that they were not to be allowed out, under any circumstances. I am quite satisfied on that point, since the Concierge knows that they have been arrested by your orders." " By my orders .? " " Yes, alas ! " And he whispered to the Incorruptible, as if fear- ing to be heard — " They are the two women from iMontmorency." " The women of the forest ? " " Yes ! " Robespierre leant back against his desk for sup- port. Lebas pulled an armchair towards him, into which he sank quite overcome. u could not have prevented it ! " said Lebas (( ^9^ Robespierre gently ; " nowadays surprises of that 3ugh. How could vou know ' sort are com- mon en The Incorruptible gave no reply, but seemed lost in a dream. "Take some rest now. ... You must feel exhausted 1 fed so myself. . . . J, devoir till to-morrow. After all, why should you worry ? Are we not the masters ? " " That is the question ! " murmured Robespierre without lifting his eyes. ' But Lebas had just closed the door, and wished him good night. Robespierre, left alone, resumed his train of thought. He had, himself, then, ordered the two women to be arrested. This made everything clear to his mmd ! He now understood why Olivier had insulted him, and matters were more complicated than he had imagined. But what was Clariss^ domg at Montmorency.? How had she gained acquamtance with that man Vaughan, who had proposed to him the Regency in the name of Eng- land ? For one moment he was vain enough to thmk that Clarissc had acted in conjunction with the Englishman. She had perhaps an idea of win- ning Robespierre over to the Royalist cause, and of rendering homage to his exalted position and power, realising all the good he could do. If this were indeed the fact, then she knew everything, was aware of the Englishman's proposals, and of the forest interview ! She was in possession of his a 1 1 1' i Lili Hours of Anp-uish t are com- Jemed lost must feel y7« revoir )u worry ? •bespierre, id wished train of the two ling clear livier had Tiplicated Clariss' ' gained vho had of Eng- lough to on with of win- Jse, and ion and If this ing, was of the of his 191 -ret and could by a single word completely ..i„ No! No! He was ravin,!.. . Why! he was '•ccus.ng the mother of his child ' For L u '"Other of his son ' Then ., "^"^ '^"^ ms son 1 hen he alone was in fault ; '- who had her arrested for no reason - F / no reason.. Was that so certain.^ And he so X about in his mind for excuses V. I u ^ C lansse been .here > Why had she been ,.pl W 1 T"!! """""" ' '"'"^ ' Ah I why P Why > he fell ,n,o a half sleep. Little by littfe the tmage of a cell i„ the prison „f La Bourbe „ e before ,un Ciarisse was there. She appeared o L™' '' ^\^' -" h" in her youth, at the Rue d s Ltons w.th her sweet pale face, large blue eve fair Silken hair, so fair . . . so fair H K .0 wonder that one so young and V™, should W a son so b,g as Olivier ! His dream-thoughts became -ore confused. .. She was now Oli.U^„„2 • • . He was pro,n,sn,g her to many them in Lon- don, through the intervention of viughan "f *ox. . . Fox was all powerful in England, as he Robespierre, was in France. . . . His head gradu-' ally sunk on h,s shoulder, and he fell asleep a, last The lamp, turned very low, shed upon him 'a fl.ckenng hght, pale and subdued as the glow Z a sanctuary lamp softening as if in pi.y .^^ sLn line of h,s troubled countenance, which even m sleep 192 Robespierre I I s did not relax the painful contraction of its features. He had fallen asleep, dressed as he was, his head aslant, his arms hanging by his sides listlessly. Now and then, his whole frame would twitch and quiver nervously, and vague, incoherent words escaped his lips at intervals; harsh, guttural sounds fell from him suddenly in that silent apartment, whose curtains and drapery in the subdued light assumed the soft and delicate tints of a young girl's chamber. Its hangings were really of damask, with designs of white flowers on a blue ground, cut out of an old dress by Madame Duplay. This was the one ob- vious attempt at ornament. The Incorruptible's room was otherwise very modestly furnished, con- taining only the armchair in which he had fallen asleep, a few cane chairs, a very simple desk, a plain deal bookcase overladen with books and fastened to the wall, and a bed of walnut-wood. The room was situated, as already said, in a wing which connected the main building occupied by the Duplay family with an outhouse opening on the Rue Saint-Honore. It also communicated with little Maurice's room, to whom the Incorruptible in his leisure hours gave lessons in history, and on the duties of a citizen. The child, who had been sent early to bed on the arrival of the police-agents with Olivier, now slept soundly. At about three o'clock, the boy awoke with a start. He heard a noise in the next room, and, thinking he reco-nised Robespierre's voice, turned Hours of Anguish 193 over to sleep again. It was not the first time his good friend had talked aloud in his sleep. But he was awakened again by the falling of a chair, and jumped from his bed anxiously and ran to open the door In the flickering light of the nearly extin- guished lamp he discerned the Incorruptible standing erect, still dressed, and gesticulating wildly as if pushing some one back. The boy advanced towards mm, asking what was amiss. Robespierre stared at him with a frightened look, then folding him in hie arms, he fell on his knees moaning. Between hi; groans the child could catch the words -- " My son ! . . . My son ! " Then the lamp went quite out. The child gently disengaged himself Bon ami had called him his son ! Yes, he was his son, his affectionate and dutiful son. Then with tender solicitude he helped him to rise. The day was already peeping through the half-closed shutters Maurice with some difficulty succeeded in replacing h.s friend on the armchair in which he had passed the night, and asked him if he wished for anything. But Robespierre had fallen asleep again. The boy returned to his room, walking back- wards on tiptoe, fearing to awaken him, and went to bed again. At seven o'clock in the morning Robespierre opened his eyes. He remembered nothing. The fact of having slept in his clot!^ and in an armchair Old not surprise him. He hi " • ' jften done so in the 13 -*-2a 194 Robespierre 1 ' days of sore trial. He drew aside the curtains, and the room was suddenly flooded with daylight. Some one knocked. It was Maurice Duplay, asking if he could come in. The boy's early visit surprised Robespierre. " Are you well, bon ami F " " Yes, why ? " " Nothing . . . only . . . last night . . . you know ..." « Last night ? Well ! " "You rather frightened me ! " " Frightened you ? " " Yes, you frightened me ! " The child then told him what had taken place in the night, " Are you quite sure ? " asked Robespierre anxiously. " Oh ! quite sure, and since you called me your son it shows you recognised me, and had not the fever so badly after all." " Yes, you are right ! It was nothing since . . . as you said . . . since I recognised you ; ... for it was you of course I called my son : . . . you are my good little son, are you not ? " And he patted his checks, adding — " But you must not speak of it to anybody ! not to anybody, mind ! It is not worth while worrying your father and mother." " Oh no ! I have never said anything ! " Robespierre began again to feel uneasy. Mi you ^i Hours of Anguish 195 « How do you mean ? You have never said anything .' " " Why, it is not the Hrst time it has happened to you." " Have you heard me before, then ? " " Oh yes ! speaking loud in your sleep." " And what did 1 say ? " "Oh, [ never understood anything, . . . discon- nected words, that's all. . . . And then I was so accustomed, I did not pay much attention. But last night it was too much and I got up." " You should not have done so, it was nothing more serious than usual, only the worry and bother that upset mc so." "It was the cross-examination of the C/jouan yesterday which unstrung you, f suppose ? " " Perhaps i . . . it may be. . . . But, you see, now I am (juue well." As the lad was going he called after him. " Now you know, and you won't give it another thought, will you ? And not a word, mind, not a word ! Now go, child." He was subject to such nightmares then .? "Perhaps I don't take enough exercise," he thought, and he resolved to go out at once into the open air, A good walk to the Champs-Elysees would completely revive him. He changed his clothes, shaved, powdered and perfumed himself as usual, and had actually started, but went back and took from a drawer in his desk the draft of the new ffl if il 1 1 ■! ^'l '^ I'i 196 kubesplerre law which he had prepared the day before, and put it in his pocket. He had decided after rcHection not to submit it himself, but to confide it to Couthon, one of the most faithful of his friends on the Com- mittee with Lebas, Saint-Just, and Augustin. Couthon would read the document from the tribune, and this would leave him fresh and fit for the ensuing debate. Having called at Couthon's house, and concluded this arrangement, Robespierre made his way to the Champs-Elysees through the Tuileries with his dog Blount, who gambolled joyously in his new-found freedom after a thr^e days' confinement in the house. The Incorruptible walked quickly and briskly as usual, in spite of the intense heat, which was but little diminished by the shade of the chest- nuts hning the avenue. He was already telling over in his mind those among his enemies who would be the first victims of the new law. As to Olivier and the two women, it was quite decided. They should remain in prison in the most absolute secrecy until the time came for him to be master. At the end of the avenue he turned Ini.c :he AUee de Veuves and went towards the Seine. Blount, who had scented the water, leapt and bounded forward in high glee. On fine summer days the dog used to swim in the river under the eyes 0/ Rv espierre. When he reached the banks of he beine B'-mt was awaiting him, and at a sign juaiped in the water, and the Incorruptible found ' ;, and put reflection Couthon, the Com- Augustin. e tribune, : for the :oncluded 'ay to the h his dog ew- found It in the :kly and at, which he chest- lling over would be livier and ey should ecy until into : lie e Seine. :apt and mer days the eyes )anks of at a sign le found Hours of Anguish ^97 some release from his harrowing thoughts in watching the gambols of his dog in the river At the Convention the Bill read by Couthon wa, received with loud protests, and the subsequent debate opc.ed amid turbulence and uproar. Th.t the judgments of the Revolutionary Tribunal should he accelerated by the suppression of evidence and cross-examinations had already frightened not a few but when it became a question of transmitting to the' Committee of Public Safety the right of life or death, the whole assembly was filled with fear Up to that time the Convention alone had the right to sit in judgment on a representative of the people' A voice was heard exclaiming _- " If that law is passed, nothing is left but to blow out our brains ! " Robespierre appeared in the tribune. The Bill was voted. The next day several attempts were made in the Convention to repeal the atrocious law wh:.n brought the Terror into their very midst, but all such efforts failed. With so trenchan. a law, a two-edged weapon which could be turned at will either against the Committee of Public Safety or against the Con- vention, according to the intricate windings of his subtle policy, with such a weapon Robespierre could keep his enemies of the Committee at bay. He had m future but to accuse them, and have them replaced by creatures of his own, sate. s of nis will. ^T 198 Robespierre it However, all was going well. His adversaries, blind and unwary, had begun to tear each other to pieces in party disputes, and to split up into factions, the very day after the passing of the atrocious law which made him so dreaded. The Incorruptible tried to take advantage of these cabals, but he was too hasty. The Committee, realising their danger, united against him ; and this was the prelude to a terrible and decisive struggle, for in case of failure there remained nothing for Robespierre but to have recourse to force. Realis- ing this to the full, he no longer attended the sittings of the Committee, but worked silently in the shade, preparing the coup d'etat which was to rid him at once and for ever of all his enemies, — with Saint- Just, whom he had sent for from the Northern Army, with Hauriot, Commander-in-Chief of the armed force ; Fleuriot-Lescot, Mayor of Paris ; Payan, Agent of the Commune ; and Dumas, presi- dent; and Coffinhal, V^ice-President of the Revo- lutionary Tribunal. His design was very simple. He would denounce his adversaries of the Com- mittee of Public Safety at the bar of the Convention and ask for their arrest and judgment. Should the Convention resist, he would subdue them with the help of Hauriot and his troops, and of all sections of the Commune, who on a sign from him and from f^leuriot, Payan, Dumas, Coffinhal, and their friends, would be stirred to insurrection, and would take the Tuileries by storm. Hours of Anofuish 199 idversaries, h other to to factions, ocious law ge of these Committee, 1 j and this e struggle^ othing for :. Realis- the sittings the shade, -id him at vith Saint- Northern ief of the of Paris ; nas, Presi- the Revo- ^ry simple, the Com- 'onvention ihould the 1 with the 1 sections 1 and from ;ir friends, d take the As to Olivier and the two women, they were always under his hand. Olivier, at La Force Prison, was in no way disturbed. Clarisse and Therese had been kept at La Bourbe by his orders. Twice the names of Olivicr's mother zn^ fiancee had appeared on the list of the Revolutionary Tribunal, and twice their names had been struck off by Robes- pierre, who, anxious and watchful, took care that all lists should be submitted to him. Soon the decisive hour approached. It was the 7th Thermidor. Six weeks had elapsed since the memorable Fete of the Supreme Being, and the pas- sing of the horrible Prairial law, which had sent hundreds of victims to the scaffold. The Terror was at its height, and France, prostrate before the knife of the guillotine, was awaiting in distracted anxiety the "-esult of the struggle. The guillotine was also v .cing, ready to devour whichever of the two parties was vanquished — Robespierre's op- ponents or Robespierre himself and his partisans. The Incorruptible, driven to the last extremity, had fixed the battle for the next day, the 8th Ther- midor, when he would throw off his mask and ac- cuse his adversaries of the Committee of Public Safety in presence of the Convention. Although he was almost certain of the issue, he deemed it none the less prudent to take infinite precautions, and to put Olivier and the two women in perfect safety in case of defeat, however impossible it mi^ht seem. They must be taken from prison, and all three 200 Robespierre paced ,n some secure retreat, out of the reach of danger, from w ence they could escape if necessary. Robespierre thought of the Hotel do Ville, where he re d ,,p,,„,^. ,^,^.^^ ^^.^^ .^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ Martroy, were some unoccupied apartments, in a budmg connected wuh and forming part of the hotel. Clansse m.ght live there with her niece and Ohv,er unnl they could with safety leave Par.s. He unrolded h.s projects to Lebas, who alone knew of the secret drama which poisoned the private life o t e i,,,rruptible at the very moment'when hi pubhc career was reaching its climax. Lebas ap- proved the plan. ^ " I am entirely at your service ' " J^J!'^"^ ^ "^'^ '"""""S °" your help. But don tet us be too hasty. To-n.orrow will be time enough. Everything depends on the sitting I you see that the majority hesitate from the com- mencement, go immediately to La Bourbe and take the two women out, then to La Force and see about my son. The apartments are ready. You have on y to take them there. But save the women first Ol.v.er must find his mother and his /anar when ne arrives." added, " Here are the warrants of release " "Agreed ! " said Lebas, after reading them. Next day at the Convention, Lchas, a parlianient- y expert, judged that Robespierre would come out v.c.or,ous from the eontest, nor was he mistaken. I Hours of Anguish 20 1 The Incorruptible had brought a general accusation, without mentioning names, against members of the Committee of Public Safety and General Security Th.s was received in anxious silence, a few only daring to protest. But the printing of the speech, and Its circulation in all the communes c'" Paris, was none the less voted. It was an official accusation, by the voice of Robespierre, of his adversaries, before the whole of France, h u ^s victory , and nothing was left but to name the victims. But the implicated members of the Committee of Public Safety did not give him time. Vadier boldlv made for the tribune, followed by Cambon, who feeling it was a case of kill or cure, played a daring game, and replied to the general accusation of Robes- p.erre by a direct, personal accusation, denouncing him openly to the astonished Assembly. The real traitor, he declared, was this masterful Robespierre who paralysed the will of the National Convention ? There was a counter-wave of feeling among the members of the Assembly at this public indictment and censure of their slavish submission to Robes- pierre. They seemed suddenly to realise their posi- tion, and the more daring members, seeing the tide turn, prepared for the fight. Thus the attacked were in their turn attacking. Billaud-Varennes succeeded Cambon at the tribune. " The mask must be torn aside, no matter whose face It covers ! " he cried. " I would rather my 202 Robespierre I s r corpse should be the stepping-stone of the ambi- tious than by my silence be an accomplice- of their crimes ! " Others succeeded Billaud-Varennes, reiterating his accusations more boldly and insultingly. Robespierre, disconcerted, tried to face the storm, but it was too late. In confining himself to a gen- eral accusation, in mentioning no names, he had frightened every one. The Assembly revoked their previous decision, and amended the Bill. The speech was not to be sent to the Communes, but to the Committee, to be examined. " What ! " cried Robespierre, « I have the cour- age to make before the Convention revelations which I believe necessary to the salvation of the country, and my speech is to be submitted for examination to the very men whom I accuse ! " Victory had been followed by defeat; a partial defeat, it was true, for, seeing the hesitating attitude of the Convention, Robespierre hoped to win them back again the next: day. He must, however, be prepared for every emergency ! That very evening he would take steps to organise an insurrection of the Communes, which, in case of resistance, would annihilate the whole set of dastardly cowards. The Incorruptible wished to act within legal bounds as long as possible, and only to overstep them when forced to do so. Robespierre looked round for Lebas, but he had «lisappe..red, and this gave him grounds for hope he ambi- e-of their eiterating sultingly. be storm, to a gen- ;, he had ked their 1. The anes, but he CO ur- ns which country, mination Hours of Anguish 203 that the two women, and perhaps Olivier, had reached the private apartments chosen by him in the Rue du Martroy. " I must go and make sure that all is well," he said to himself ; "there is not a moment to lose" — and leaving the Convention, he hastened in the direction of the Hotel dc Ville. a partial ; attitude v'm them 'ever, be evening ction of 5, would 5. The lunds as m when he had 3r hope CHAPTER X THE TUMBRILS At that very moment Lebas reached the Hotel de Ville with Clarisse and Therese. On leaving the prison of La Bourbe he had given a false ad- dress to the coachman who drove the prisoners, and he followed them at a distance in another carriage, accompanied by a man to superintend the luggage, who was one of the attendants at the Hotel de Ville, and a devoted adherent of Robes- pierre. The second carriage soon overtook the first, when Lebas gave the correct address to the driver — " 13, Rue du Martroy ! " Clarisse and Therese mounted the stairs more dead than alive, ushered up respectfully by Lebas, and Urbain, the attendant, carrying their luggage' Where were they going ? Who were these people ? Lebas at the prison had scarcely spoken to Clarisse. "For your safety," he had said simply, "for your niece's safety, do not question me before we arrive at our destination." For her safety .? For Therese's safety ! Then they were to He saved ? Who could save them .? She would surely learn now who it was. The Tumbrils 205 The two men stopped on the third floor, and Urbain opened a door. " It is here ! " said Lebas, making way for them to pass in. The two women entered, and found themselves 'n a plain sitting-room with fittings and furniture of dark grey wood. Urbain took the luggage to a door opening on the left, through which a bedroom was visible, " You must make yourself quite at home, here," said Lebas. And he informed them that they were free, but from motives of prudence he who had saved them, and for whom Lebas was acting, had judged it ad- visable to offer them these apartments a. a tempo- rary residence, where they would be entirely out of danger's reach. Clarisse and Therfese could not recover from their surprise, and wished to know to whom they owed their deliverance. But Lebas would not tell them, having received no orders to that effect. All he could say to reassure them was that their protector was all-powerful at the Paris Commune, and that the apartments were in direct communication, through a door which he indicated, with the Hotel de Ville, so that they were under his immediate care. Clarisse started. She understood now. She owed her safety to the Incorruptible ! Her letter of the preceding month had reached Robespierre. She knew this already, as he had acknowledged it in a 206 Robespierre few brief words three days after receiving it — "Fear nothing, your son is safe! " And this was all she had heard. Lebas was still giving the women particulars of their new surroundings. Everything had been ar- ranged to render them as comfortable as possible. The man who had accompanied them was entirely at their disposal, and it was to his interest to serve them well. His wife would see also to their wants, and take charge of their apartmjnts, where they would be absolutely free and unrestrained. Only one precaution was earnestly recommended to them ; to show themselves as little as possible at the windows of their sitting or bed room, so as not to attract the attention of neighbours. They were -'spncially told to avoid this in the afternoon, from four to six. The windows looked on to the Rue du Martroy, through which the carts carrying the con- demned passed. The scafFold was now installed at the Barri^re du Trone Renverse, and it was the shortest way. The two women shuddered. « Unhappily we had no choice," Lebas added, seeing their repugnance, " but you will be warned by the cries of the crowd, and you can then retire to the dining-room which looks on to the courtyard. It lasts but a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, at the most." But Clarisse scarcely listened, her whole mind occupied with one thought, the longing to inform The Tumbrils 207 Olivier, whose whereabouts she hoped soon to learn, of their release from prison. " Could I write a few words to some one who is very dear to me ? " she asked. « I wish to set his mind at rest about our welfare." Lebas replied in the affirmative, and she thanked him gratefully. He politely protested; she owed him no thanks, these were solely due to him whose orders he was executing. He then offered to take the letter himself, saying he would return for it in a quarter of an hour, us he had another urgent duty to fulfil. And he retired, leaving the two women with Urbain, who busied himself arranging the furniture of the sitting-room. Therese, now full of hope, gave thanks to God. They would perhaps soon see Olivier again. What joy ! But to whom did they owe their release ? She looked inquiringly at her aunt. Clarisse owned that she believed it was to an ex-secretary of Theresc's grandfather, now all-powerful, and to whom she had written from the prison of La Bourbe. Therf:se seemed astonished that her aunt had not told her of this. But Clarisse made the very plaus- ible excuse that she did not wish to raise her hopes, not knowing whether her appeal would have success! The young girl was now looking through the shutters of one of the windows which Urbain had partly opened. "Ah! there is a church!" she exclaimed, and immediately she thought that if they were allowed 208 Robespierre to go out she would go and pray for their protector, for he could not be all-powerful and not have done wrong; he must belong also to the Government of Terror. At the mention of a church, Clarisse approachec! the window. She recognised the building; it wAa St. Gcrvais Church, on whose portal could be read in large letters the sadly ironical inscription: " National Property, to be let as a Warehouse." At Clarisse's request Urbain had placed an ink- stand and blotting-paper on the table, and Clarisse hearing it was ready turned round jo f'»lly. "At last I can write to Olivier ! " she thought. She then seated herself at the table and began to write, while Therese was making a tour round the room, taking a survey of the furniture. Suddenly catching sight of an illustrated paper on a sofa, she took it up to pass the time away. It was five weeks old, and had been preserved no doubt on account of the illustrations. Its pages gave an elaborate ac- count of the Fete of the Supreme Being of which she had heard Olivier speak, and against which he had so vehemently protested during his visit to the prison of La Bourbe. It had taken place, then .? She became interested and commenced reading to herself in a low voice : « Description of the Procession. — Firezuorks at the Fountain of the Tuileries Typi- cal Groups. — Jrrest of a Chouan. — Popular Indig- nation ! " " I saw that myself," interrupted Urbain. The Tumbrils 209 -gThfi:,;:r' '"''r -'-"'• ---o was no.,.;. bela™.' ■"'-'"'' ^'•'•^■'''"''-V 'ho. a„ had " Why > |),.^,„,^ ^ scaffold I • •■ '"""' *"•' ths -. c, „. .h. .e«,. !;r J::ir r/rr most ,„ ,h,. ,,„,,;""! '•"'"'■"'-"". and both, al- -nappea.r:ot^::t:r'-;77.' arrested at once tr. /^^"^v. He had been wo..o.he.rh::;::t:::;-."--- nis namc^ his namp ' '• ^u [ . Th„ rr 1, '''^>' ''o'l' gasped. maleriL H "" "" "" "" "^^"'' '^»«e rose ™d s 'he "e,;?"™' "" """ '■' ^ -'^-'^ -lie.' luuc bet nerself to reassure Ther^sp Vo u . . had the same thought, had n't h " I ' ^ '°'' thinkinp of nv V ^ ^^^ ^^so was , f of Ohv.er, but it couJd not be he H. would have written to them Wh. ! weeks ago, and his visit to Th " ^'^ '"^ -.me^nbered- X i:^h::::::::-^ tion. "^'^^ ^^^'■y considera- 210 Robespierre M Clarisse took the paper gently from her hands, saying, " Instead of reading all this awful news, which inflames your imagination, go, ('ear, and arra:igc our room a little." And she added in half a reproachful tone : " You have not even looked at it, yet ! " Then gently pushing her into the room, she shut the door sharply behind her. A terrible fear had taken possession of Clarisse. Why in his letter to her had Robespierre sedulously avoided mentioning Olivier's whereabouts ? Turn- ing to Urbain, she addressed him i*: a hoarse voice : "You say you saw this young fellc v ? " The good man evinced surprise at her strange re- currence to the subject. " I had the honour to tell you so just now, citoy- enne." Then Urbain would recollect him ? What was he like.? His face? The colour of his eyes? But that was too much to ask. He was in such a state, so broken down. How was he dressed .? Urbain could just remember. He described the costume : grey carmagnole and breeches, black and grey striped waistcoat. It was Olivier's costume ! There was rto longer any possible doubt. It was he ! " It is he ! It is he ! " she kept repeating, falling at last into a chair, on the point of swooning. At this moment the door opened and a man ap- peared, who without crossing the threshold signed to the servant, to whom he spoke in a whisper. jr hands, vs, which a.'igc our proachful t!" she shut Clarisse. xlulously Turn- ic voice : ■ange re- 3W, citoy- i^hat was is eyes ? in such a ed? ribcd the (lack and lo longer ;, falling g- man ap- d signed whisper. The Tumbrils 21 1 Urbain came towards Clirissc and dc-livcMcd the message. " The iitoy^,, Robespierre wishes to speak with you." " Where is he ? Oh I let him come ! let him come ! " she cried through her blinding tears. ^ The man left the room followed by Urbain. Clarisse waited -•-. breathless suspense, her eyes fixed in mute agony on the half-opened door. The Incorruptible came in, and before he had time to greet her, she had risen and was standing before him. " My son .? Where is my son i" " " Be assured, your son is safe." She recoiled a step and fi;ced her eyes on him in amazed silence. So it was true, the young man who had been arrested was Olivier! Robespierre, greatly agitated, again essayed to re- assure her, but she interrupted him eagerly. Where was he. ? In prison ? Robespierre lowered his eyes. What ' Had Olivier been sent to prison by him > Ah ! things had come to a pretty pass. He was then the gaoler of his own son ! Robespierre made a gesture as if to protest. Then mastering with difficulty his emotion, he explained everythmg. He had kept Olivier in prison as the only means of saving him. Had the lad been re- leased he would have been rcimprisoned by the Committee of Public Safety, who would have sent 212 Robespierre m him to the scaffold, if it were only to show Robes- pierre that he had no right to grant a pardon ! But Olivier would be free now. Lebas was at that very moment at La Force prison, and would soon bring him secretly from thence to them. Olivier should remain with his mother and Therl;se until the day when they could all three leave without danger, and seek safety in the provinces. Clarisse listened, now calm and reassured. But how had Robespierre known ? " Who he was ? Oh, in the most unexpected manner, with the assistance of some letters found in his valise, for he absolutely refused to give me his name." Clarisse looked at Robespierre with a new fear in her eyes. Then he had seen him ? Olivier knew the terrible secret of his birth ? " Oh, no ! " replied the Incorruptible sadly, " don't be uneasy about that. I have not said a word to lessen his love and trust in you, or disarm the bitter hatred he has for me, which avenges you too well ..." But Clarisse interrupted him. Robespierre was mistaking her feelings. She did not ask to be avenged, she did not even think any more of re- proaching him with the past which divided them. It was all so far, so far away, that past ' The Incorruptible looked at her with eyes full of sadness and regret. Yes, there she stood, in her faded prison dress, her face lined before its time, a The Tumbrils But 213 ^ving reproach, a poor pale ghost of bygone days Those blanched lips, wiA .he.r melancholy droop h= token of long suffcnng and res.gnation, thosj lips had received his (irst kiss ! Clarisse would th.nk no more of the past ' He ought of t though, thought of it there, looking at her. Had he been so culpable, after all = Why had Mons,eur de Pon.ivy filled his heart tvith hate and ratKour by refus.ng him her hand and turning hTm c«^wfT' °"""fadiffere„'ce: caste XVel, from th,s prejudice had sprung the Revolufon w ,ch had levelled all under the knffe of .he gu lot,ne - That sad past, the terrible presen" «;ere both due to the pride of Carisse-s'fathe: the t!::m:n ;:• "^-^ "'™"" "-^^'f --"^ '- But Clarisse agam interrupted him. The past was dead now, quite dead ! " '''°'" ^' "'■-•'i. " 'he past is not dead, since vour son _.s here, the living proof of what hi: Clarisse shook her head. beeratl'"'"'"""" " """'' ^°' '^ ^'» ^^"'^ h- been a blow to your pride, causing you some tran- .TahTt'red'' V :'° ""''"' °"' -"^ '* b-J= that hatred. Each t,me my son pronounces your -me w„h ,„, hing and indignation I can onVasI "yself m ternhed agony, if be will ever pardo^ r^ tor havmg g.ven him a father such as y„u^ " Robesp.errc, thoroughly disheartened, looked at 214 Robespierre her sadly. " You also ' " he exclaimed. What ! did Clarisse share the general error ? Did not she penetrate through the apparent violence of his policy to the sublime end he had in view r He sought to explain his views to her, his notions for ensuring the universal happiness of mankind ; he depicted the sacred ideal he dreamt of reaching by purging France of all base and evil-minded traitors who defiled her. He an assassin ! He a tyrant ! No ! he was an avenger, an apostle of justice and virtue ! He was not responsible for the excesses of a nation who had been enslaved for centuries, and had sud- denly cast off their chains. Every conquest was of necessity accompanied by carnage, every revolu- tion left the stains of blood behind ! Clarisse contemplated him with the same aston- ishment Vaughan had experienced in the forest of Montmorency, when Robespierre had unfolded to the Englishman his projects and visions of universal happiness, which could only be realised by the help of the guillotine. " The future will justify me ! " he continued. " When I am in power my deeds will convince you." " But are you not all-powerful now ? " Clarisse exclaimed in spite of herself. He showed her she was mistaken. No, he was not supreme ! Not yet ! Enemies barred his wav ; but they were the last, and he was about to over- throw them in one decisive contest ! Yes, he What! d not she his policy sought to ensuring depicted ' purging tors who It ! No ! J virtue ! a nation had sud- uest was / revolu- le aston- forest of 'olded to universal the help jntinucd, convince Clarisse , he was bis wav ; to over- Yes, he The Tumbrils 215 yearned for that moment to come, for his strength would not hold out much longer. Then lowering his voice, and trembling lest he should be heard, he told her of the wretched life he led ; hunted down on all sides, hated, betrayed, his every movement watched, a dagger ever hanging over h,s head. He spoke of his sleepless nights' Oh ! how he would hasten that last battle I To make the victory sure it would be as terrible as possible; the whole horde of wretches who had caused h,m such unspeakable torture should be swept from his path ! Peace ! Peace ! how glad he snould be to welcome it with open arms Clarisse listened m amazement to this wild'tirade He had spoken of his haunted life, his sleepless n.ghts. But were not these ever the lot of tyrants ^ He sought forgetfulness, peace, a renewal of some of the joys of life ? Then why did he not stay the mfamous proceedings of the Revolutionary Tri- bunal and throw wide the prison doors ? From every breast would then resound a c^^ of deliverance wh.ch wou d atone for all ! What greater happiness ^or him, after causing so many tears than to dry them agam ! « Impossible ! impossible ! " answered Robespierre. Not yet ! He would have to pay for •twith his life like Danton! The hour had not death. In order to survive it was necessary to denounce, accuse, strike, and slay remorselessly. For It was the fear of death which prompted the i 2l6 Robespierre m French to their most inhuman acts. It influenced every one, from the Convention, the Committees, the Revolutionary Tribunal, to the very crowd who had become the abject slaves of that terror which held France in absolute subjection. They had well called this Government " the Terror." Oh, yes ! it was a terror for the victims, for the accusers, for the judges, a terror for all ' Clarisse looked at him, in bewilderment. There was no more hope, then .' France was to perish under that rule of abject cowardice ? Would no one take this evil by the throat and strangle it .' " Yes," replied Robespierre. " But who, my God ! who .' " " I ! " "You?" "Yes, I myself! " And Robespierre unfolded his plans. When once the Committee of Public Safety had perished on the scaffold he would be master, a master strong enough perhaps to do away with the executioner and to decrre clemency ! When would that day come ? He could not tell yet ! Perhaps in a few days ! For the moment it was the vigil of arms. Nothing was now possible but patience ? Clarisse was listening to a far-off sound which reached them like the muffled roar of distant waves. What was that noise ? Robespierre had heard it also and started up pale and nervous. The Tumbrils 217 I It was the crowd greeting fresh cartloads of con- demned, which were passing the Place de la Greve. Clarisse groaned , she understood I The death on the scaffold, the last ride of those condemned bv the Revolutionary Tribunal ! Lebas had warned herj it was just the time ! The tumbrils would pass there, in that street, under these very windows ! Robespierre hastened to close the shutters. Clarisse, completely unnerved, gave way to grief and despair. So, all those people were doomed to die, because the hour of mercy had not yet come ! In a few days, Robespierre had said it him^c^lf, in a few days they might be saved ' The unfortunate victims must die on the very eve of deliverance! Oh, it was horrible ' horrible ' horrible ' "What can oe doner I am powerless," re- peated the Incorruptible. What ! h'- could do nothing ? Could he not now, at this moment, do what he thought to do in three days' time? Could he not call out from the window to the mob, the long-ycarncd-for-cry, " Mercy ! oh, have mercy ! " He had but to call these words out to the crowd whose idol he was, and it would be an atonement for all his life. " Mercy ! '' ^nd he was a hero, a savior ! " Mercy ! " and his son would no longer have the right to hate him, and to curse his name ! Robespierre was grieved and distressed beyond measure. Clarisse did not know what she was saying ! How could he stop the tumbrils, arrest 2l8 Robespierre I i:ii that crowd, composed of the very scum of the nation ? Why, there was not one self-respecting man among them ! Nothing but a mob mad with the lust of bbod. The only power they feared or respected was the Terror — the Scaffold! He, Robespierre, their idol ? Nay, he was not ! Their idol was the executioner ! To fight single-handed against such a besotted, blinded rabble would be madness, sheer m.adness ! Clarisse paid no heed, but continued supplicating him with uplifted hands, deaf to all argument. The tumult of the mob, which sounded nearer, causing the very sashes to shake, announced the' approach of the tumbrils. Robespierre, drawi, in spite of himself to the window, partly opened the shutters to look out, followed by Clarisse who stopped as the hubbub of the crowd grew suddenly louder, and uttered a stifled cry " Here they are ! " Robespierre closed the shutters again. Tears started to Clarisse's eyes. She appealed to the kindly qualities of his youth. She had known him ever compassionate and generous. He had but to call to mind how he had revolted against injustice, how solicitous he had ever been for the weak and oppressed. Think of that time! Think of it! and all the spirit of her youth rose to her lips in that cry of pity for the innocent victims of misrule. Yes, innocent! They were innocent! And he refused to save them ! The Tumbrils 219 " Once more I tell you it is madness," Robes- pierre groaned in despair. Would she not under- stand, it was his death she was crying out for, her own death too, and the death of her niece ? He had only to attempt to save those unhappy victims, and the crowd would at once turn upon him with the fury of wild beasts ! He would be accused of treason by the sans-culottes^ and the fishwives danc- ing yonder under the windows and howling the Carmagnole ! He would be cut to pieces by the swords of the prison escort, crushed under the cart- wheels, and cast into the gutter by the rabble for having dared to arrest the reign of Terror ! Was that what Clarisse wanted ? Or would she perhaps allow him to live still to be able to save her, to save her niece and her son ? The entrance door was pushed open. Robes- pierre turned, and seeing Urbain understood that Lebas had at last arrived with Olivier. He did not, however, wish to be seen by his son. " Let Citoyen Lebas and his companion wait out- side till I have gone," he said. Urbain looked astonished. " But there is no one with Citoyen Lebas," he replied. Clarisse started up. " What ! no one ? " asked Robespierre. "And Olivier?" Clarisse said in a low voice, trembling with suspense. Robespierre moved towards the door and called 220 ^^^^^^^^^B? I 'U'j ^^^^IKf ij ^^^^B" ■ ^^^H h t Robespierre anxiously to Lebas. The day was fast closin., the setting sun, peering in through the half-open shuUers shed a crimson light in the apartment, staining here' and there in patches and streaks the furniture and curtains with the hue of blood. Lebas came in alone. ^^Olivier was no longer at the prison of La " f/"P^^ • " ^sked Robespierre breathlessly. 'Unfortunately not ' " said Lebas, " but taken by Coulongeon, the police-agent, by order of the Committee of Public Safety, to . . . Where ? No one could tell ' To the Conciergerie perhaps ' " "Before the Tribunal'" Clarisse almost screamed. Robespierre was stunned. The wretched mem- bers of the Committee had placed Olivier on trial ' He had been, perhaps, condemned, and might even now be on the road to the scaffold, in one of those LebTs-'"^ '""''"'"'■ "' '"'^ breathlessly to " Oh, quick ! Go down and see ' " Lebas rushed ofF, and Robespierre ran to the Window Clarisse in mad despair following him. If he ,s you will, you must, cry out to the people that he is your son ! " Alas! Could he? The populace would answer that h.s son was a Chouan f that he might thank the 1 ribunal for freeing him from such disgrace Therese, drawn from the bedroom by the deafen- osing, the I shutters, ning here iture and of La ssly. it taken ■ of the e? No ps ? almost 1 rnem- n trial ! It even f those ssly to to the him. to the nswer ik the ;afen- The Tumbrils 221 Jng cries of the crowd, now entered, trembling with ^ear. The carts were there ... She could hear them ! " iVIamma ! mamma ' do you hear ? " She stopped at sight of Robespierre. "The friend who .aved us," said Clarisse answering her look of surprise. Therjse went straight to'the window, but Clarisse barred the way. " Oh, no ' sne must not look at such a spectacle. Better kneel down and pray. . . . Pray for those about to die and for them also, yes for themselves, With all her soul ! " Therese fell on her knees and joined her hands, her large blue eyes, brimful of tears, lifted towards i>amt Gervais, the deserted church, where the lin- gering spirit of outraged religion might perhaps accomplish a miracle ! The terrible tumult now burst on their ears like the rumble of thunder. As it drew nearer, separate sounds were distinguishable ; screams, ribald laugh- ter, hootmg, degrading clamour, and coarse jokes reached them ; all the hatred and fury of the Paris- ian populace was manifest in those hideous revels The crowd was ushering the first tumbril into the Rue du JVIartroy, preceded by the maenads of the guiUotme, loathsome, drinkbesotted viragoes, who yelled, and contorted themselves, dancing the Car- magnole in front of the condemned. Discordant strams of revolutionary songs rose above the rum- 222 Robespierre i! i: f bling of the cart-wheels, the clank of horses' hoofs, and the cracking of vviiips. Robespierre had half opened the shutters, and tried to distinguish the first cart through the dense crowd. Clarisse struggled with him to look also but the Incorruptible held her back resolutely. " No ; I will look alone ! " " Do you see him ? Tell me ; is he there ? " "No," he replied, still preventing her from approaching. Then, as Robespierre made an eager movement, she gasped in her agony « He is there ; I know it ' " and again she strug- gled to reach the window. "I swear to you he is not there'" and ex- hausted he quitted hold of her to wipe his brow. The first tumbril had passed. The songs and cries of the mob surrounding it were lost in distance, and these muffled sounds were mingled with the murmurs of the crowd awaiting the other tumbrils Ohvier was not in the first. But the second .? He was perhaps in the second .? Clarisse would have cried out in her despair, but she struggled against the mad impulse and suppressed her choking sobs lest she should reveal the awful truth to Therfese, who, still on her knees, her eyes turned to the desecrated church, prayed aloud • ^ " Our Father Which art in Heaven; hallowed be' 1 hy name; Thy Kingdom come; Thy will he done " But she was interrupted by another outburst from rses' hoofs, itteis, and the dense look also, cely. lere ? " her from lovement, she Strug- and ex- lis brow, angs and distance, with the tumbrils, id ? He pair, but ppressed ic awful ler eyes d: Uowed be rst from The Tumbrils 223 the mob announcing the second tumbril. Already ^craps of the furies' songs reached her from the distance: " ^tsnsons Li Carmagnole! Vive le son y'fve le son Dansons la Carmagnole yh'e le son Du canon ! . . , " CJyisse taking advantage in a moment of Robe.- P.errc s K'axcd vigilance, pressed nearer ,0 the wmdows. " The second cartload ! " J J!':'" T '"'V "'™''" '"^'^ Robespierre, who, ■allcr ,h „ she, eould eomn.and a more distant view Two ! two earts ! It was imposs.ble for Olivie; "ot to be ,n one of them. Clarisse felt it 1 He must be there! "He is there, I feel it i . n > . there ! " ' ' ' ' '"" )'°" ^' « In her anxiety to see better she grew regardless of precantton Robespierre struggled to d,L Z Z^ " '• ''-'' ■"''"'■''■ Sl>e might be Thertse still raised her voice, choked with tears, in supplications to heaven ■ J "Itlf?','""*"' "/''^"''.^-^/- - «Wn, '"^^'•>"'atththo„rcfourd,«ih. Amen I " A cry of anguish rent the air. Clarisse had rec- ognised Ohvier I "There in that cart!" Rob's- 224 Robespierre i' pierre strained his eyes, half dead with fear. "Where? Where?'" He could not see him! " Oh yes ! Yes ! there, in the second cart ! That young man standing, his liend bent ! . . ." And unable longer to contain herself, in the madness of grief, she placed her hand on the window clasp and would have opened it; but Robespierre prevented her, and the struggle began again. No ' she was mistaken I She need only look ' The young man was raising his head. " There, you see, it is not he ' " "Then he must be in another cart ' . . ." And worn out with agonising suspense and excitement she sank down in a chair. Again the noisy clamour died into the distance. Robespierre took courage now. [t was surely the last cartload ' "You look!" cried Clarisse. ... "I cannot look again ! " Oh ! if it were the last ' If it were the last and their torture at an end ! She leant her head on her hands and closed her eyes in order to see no more, while great silent tears trickled through her fingers. Robespierre lifted the shutters and stopped to look through, but quickly let them fall again. Alas ! It was not over ' There was still another tumbril. The buzz of sounds advancing gradually betokened it too well ! In one bound Clarisse was at the window. I t 1 fear. . . . see him ! rt ! That . ." And nadness of clasp and prevented ' she was oung man ." And xcitement y clamour surely the I cannot ' last and :loscd her ilent tears d to look Vlas ! It tumbril. etokened The Tumbrils 22^ " Will it never end ! " Robespierre made a gesture to c! .se her mouth "for God's sake, do not scream ' " But Clnrisse did not heed him ; she would g. out Out, into the street ! It was too awful ' bhe would put an end to it all ' Robespierre held her back with fresh entreaties. Maddened by the restramt, she struggled desperately to free herself 1 her^se, distracted from her orisons !-y the vio- lence of the scene, turned her head. Seeing Cla- nsse's state, she understood nil in a moment. Olivier was there in one of those tumbrils ' Olivier was on the ^v'^y to the scaffold ! . . . And Clarisse now regardless of consequences, owned the truth ' "Oh yes, Olivier, on ^ l.vic:, he is there ' Thev are going to kill hin- ' . . ," ^ "Olivier- kill him'" 'repeated Therese, half dazed; then the awful reality rushed suddenly upon her. She start. 1 to her feet with a cry that echoed through the house. " ^^'''" 2°'"g t° die ? Oh ! mamma, mamma f " Robespierre continued his supplications, holding Clarisse who still struggled, in his grasp. She would have her son! She would go and demar d mm from the executioner! Every mother there would intercede for her! "If they will not give him to me, let them kill me, kill me with him ! I will go ' I will go ' I must save my son ! For God's sake, let me go ' " Robespierre implored Ther&se to help him hold Robespierre Clarisse back. The young giil, realising the mad- ness of the act, appealed also to her aunt, speaking words of consolation and of hope. But her voice was drowned in the roar of the mob, that rose and beat against the window-panes, like the waves of an angry sea. " f« ira, (a ira, (a ira ! " howled the Monads, flinging their fearful watch- word on the wind, heralding the dreadful spectacle of advancing doom, dancing a veritable dance of death. '*Ah! Qa ira, (a ira, fa ira, Les aristocrats ^ la la nt erne ; Afi ! Qa ira, (a ira, (a ira, Les aristocrats on les pendra." Clarisse had now freed herself, and ran to the door to open it. But Robespierre, quick as thought, stood before her and barred the way. " Remain where you are, 1 charge you ! " Then resolutely and solemnly he added — "I myself will go! And if he is in that cart, I will brave all to save him ! " Seeing that Clarisse seemed doubtful, he added with emphasis — "I swear it to you ! " A flood of tears, tears of gratitude, was Clarisse's only answer. "May you be forgiven all for those brave words!" she sobbed. He led her to a chair near the window, and in a The Tumbrils g the mad- it, speaking oar of the idow-panes. ful watch- 1 spectacle dance of 227 an to the s thought, that cart, t Clarisse sis — "I Clarisse's se brave and in a % state of exhaustion she allowed herself to be seated. Therc'se bending over her forgot her own tears, n. dryin- those of Clarisse. Robespierre, drawn to the window by a fresh outburst in the street, turned and looked out. Tliere was but one more cart now ' The prison escort followed in the rear. It was indeed the last ! The last ! It was the last cartload ! If Olivier was not there, he was saved ! But he must be ! Alas, he must ; where else could he be ? Strutraling between hope and fear, Clarisse fell on her knees, and with clasped hands prayed aloud. " O Lord, my God ! my God ' God of mercy and compassion, grant that my child may not be there ! " Therese had also fallen on her knees beside Clarisse, so that the two now knelt, locked in each other's arms, and prayers and supplications rose from both their lips. " fa ira, (a ira, fa ira / " howled the mob. " Lord, my God, have pity on us f " repeated the women. Robespierre, livid to the lips, continued his ago- nising watch. Growing anxious at the silence of the Incorrupt- ible, Clarisse would have risen, but her strength faded her, and she sank down again on her knees her eyes fixed on Olivier's father, trying to read in 228 Robespierre h; drawn features evidence of his hopes or fears, rherese joined her in this mute questioning. Robespierre was alternately raising himself, bend- ing aside, or stooping lower to see more plainly Suddenly he gave an exultant cry — " He is not there ! " ult'^ '""' ""■' ■ '^'■' ''"" ""' ' " 8=^?='' Clarisse, trying to rise. Ther^se, more easily convinced, kissed the poor mother in a burst of joy. "Are you sure? Are you sure, though?" re- peated Clarisse in a fainting voice. Robespierre to convince her came and raised her and supporting her in his arms, carried her to thj window. " Do you believe me now ? " he said It was true. There were only women in the car,. Only women! My God, what a relief 1" exclaimed Clarisse leaving the window But she suddenly realised that her mother's heart had ma e her selfish and inhuman, and with joi led and, s ,„,po ed pardon of .hose unfortunate vic- n he h k f r" """""' ^Sain, her head Robespierre was now preoccupied with thoughts ofOImer, Hewasnot in the tumbrils! Where was he, then ! Confiding Clarisse to the young girl-s care, he took his hat to go. i :> I >es or fears. :ioning. mself, bend- plainly. ed Clarisse, d the poor ugh?" re- laised her, her to the I The Tumbrils 229 "Whoever you are, sir, may God bless you'" said Therese with a long look of gratitude. Robespierre turned and looked earnestly at her He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Feeling h.s eyes fill with tears, he hurried from the room. Vague, far-away murmurs came to them from the distance, then ceased entirely, while the belfrv clock of Saint Gervais struck six. n the can. I relief! " ler's heart 'ith joined unate vic- her head rate with thoughts Where care, he ^iii f^' ; ' 1 ^■|i it Si!,.- CHAPTER XI ALL THESE GLIDING GHOSTS " On the stairs Robespierre met U-bain who was just coming up. "Quick ! fetch me a hackney-coach ! " he called. The man turned and hurried down the stairs two steps at a time. A fiacre was crossing the street, crawling as if waiting for a fare, and the driver cyn- ically inquired if he should take him to the scaffold. "Place du Trone Renverse, dtoyenf The fun has n't commenced yet ! " Urbain opened the door while Robespierre gave the address : « To the Committee of Public Safety ! and make haste ! " He then threw himself back in the carriage, which turned round, and rolled rapidly in the direction of the Tuileries. The Incorruptible would soon have the key to the mystery ! The police-agent of the Committee, Coulongeau, could tell him at once where to find Olivier. He would wring the secret from him by force if necessary ! When he arrived at the Tuileries, Robespierre looked vainly for the police-agent; he wandered from room to room, questioning every one he met, putting the whole official stafF at their wits' end, but no Coulongeau was to be found. I lin who was " he called. e stairs two the street, driver cyn- ic scaffold. The fun ;pierre gave 3lic Safety ! iage, which rection of soon have :nt of the n at once the secret obespierre wandered le he met, wits' end, ■1 - "All These Gliding Ghosts" 231 The absence of the police-agent confirmed Robes- pierre's suspicions. Olivier must then be at the Conciergerie under guard. " Oh ! I can be there in time ! " he thought, and leaving the Tuileries, he went home to supper at the Duplays. It was now seven. The family, who had waited supper for Robespierre and Lebas, were growing anxious, as they knew that the sitting of the Con- vention had been long finished. Duplay, who had just returned from the Revolutionary Tribunal, took an optimistic view of things. The sitting had been certainly a failure for Robespierre, but he was not a man to be trifle J with ! He would promptly retaliate, and assuredly the meeting at the Jacobin Club that evening would turn the tables upon his foes. The women with one consent decided to attend, fcv'.ing it was but right to show their sympathy, though Duplay raised a few feeble objections, mainly as a matter of form. " But since you are so sure we shall be victori- ous," urged little Maurice ingenuously, " what do we risk ? " Robespierre appeared at that moment, his. face drawn and haggard. He tried, however, to smile as if nothing were amiss before the family, and said, in answer to inquiries for Lebas, " He will soon be here; I saw him less than an hour ago." « Where ? " « At the Hotel de Ville." - . 3 2^2 Robespierre Lebas had been to assure themselves .hat the forces of the Commune were in readiness in case some fresh phase ofaffa,rs might force the Incorruptible to break .he bounds of the law ; and when they proposed o go w,th h,m to the Jacol,i„ Club after supper he seemed touched, and, fcel.ng sure of success, was no h-tir' '^ '"'- "-'^ -"'^ -'- The front door opened. I, was Lebas returning completely out of breath, from the Place du Tronf After having assured himself that Olivier was not in ■he tumbrds he had gone, to be quite certain, to the very foot of the scaffold. The Incorrupttb e me him w.th questioning looks. day'^"""" '' " '"'' "' '' '^f= f" 'o- " Yes, I know," said Robespierre, " but have you found out where he is > " " No," answered Lebas. " He can only be at the Conciergerie, then. I W.1I go there this evening after the meeting a. the Jacobins." ^ Supper was soon over. Robespierre wished ,„ be a. the Jacob.ns at eight o'clock, at the very beg.nn,ng of the sitting, for fear of being taken unawares by the Committee, who were capable of anything. " I am sure my worst enemies will be there " he muttered to Duplay, who assured him to the'con- IMl: pierrc and the forces some fresh lie to break reposed to supper he s, was not d witness returning, lu Trone, 'as not in in, to the tible met for to- ut have hen. I ting at ihed to le very taken ble of e con- " All These Gliding Ghosts " 233 trary, as the family started along the Rue Sainte- Honore in anxious groups. The Incorruptible walked ahead, at some distance from them ; Cor nelie noticed in astonishment that he did not offer her h.s arm as usual, and said so to Lebas, who forcmg a smile, answeied, - He is so preoccupied just now ! " r ,- Cornelie tossed her head. It was not the first time she had accompanied him to the Jacobin Club in times of anxiety, and on those days he was most attentive, and seemed to feel in special need of sym- pathy Lebas did not reply, thinking of Clarisse and Olivier, wh.lst Cornelie continued her threnody of woes. Robespierre was a few paces in front of her, walking alone, and did not even turn to bestow on her a single glance. "Something is amiss," she said. « I never saw mm thus before." He was in fact thinking of Clarisse, of her jov a few hours hence to have her son again, for Robespierre would take Olivier from the Concier gene directly he was sure of his triumph at the Jacobins; he thought also of this triumph, now so certain, which would seem all the greater if Clarisse could witness it. She would see then how highly he was esteemed, admired, and loved by all true, honest Repubhcans, by all staunch soldiers of justice and humanity. Suddenly he stopped at the door of the Jacobms, and went in without even turning to see if any one was following. 234 Robespierre a ■ l\ I;! yiu I ' ill 1 11 it This building, once the property of the monks of St. James, had recently been turned by the Revolu- tionists into a political club. A powerful party reigned there, exercising an occult influence on the direction of public affairs and on the rulings of the Convention, whom they terrorised by their democratic arrogance and their violent, obstinate fanaticism. The meetings were held in a part of the building formerly known as the convent-church, opening on to a long gallery hung with portraits of monks, which led to the ancient library. At the lower end of this assembly-room an altar was still standing, stripped of all its ornaments and symbols of sacred services, now forgotten in the hall where fierce fanatics,' breathing slaughter, hounded to death the victims of the guillotine. When empty, with its amphitheatre, its presiden- tial stand, its tribune, the room had the aspect of an ordinary debating hall. When full, it was a tri- bunal of inquisition, the headquarters of terror and of fear. Robespierre had become the ruling spirit of the Club. He was their lord-paramount, whose word was absolute, and he was greeted on his appearance by a thunder of appliuse. The hall was filled with an enthusiastic crowd, exasperated at the partial de- feat of their idol at the Tuileries. Robespierre, deeply touched, returned their salutations gratefully, and re-read his speech prepared for the Convention' monks of e Revolu- rful party uence on alings of by their obstinate ? building ening on ks, which id of this stripped services, fanatics, victims aresiden- ct of an IS a tri- nor and t of the se word )earance led with rtial de- ^spierre, ite fully, .mention, "All These Gliding Ghosts" 235 interrupted at every point by loud approval. In order to stir their minds to the necessary pitch of ex- citement, he spoke of this as his last testament, and so mduced another outburst of extravagant sympathy. 1 will die with you, Robespierre ! " called out one deputy. "Your enemies are the enemies of the whole nation ! cried another. « Say the word, and they snalJ no longer exist ! " Robespierre looked at them with eyes full of gratitude. He was hoping that some one would commence an attack, that he might retaliate there and then, and so accentuate his triumph. He had perceived among the crowd his adversaries, Billaud- Varennes and Collot d'Herbois. They tried to speak and were hissed; they persisted, and were greeted with cries of " To death with them I " Daggers even were drawn, and they had scarcely time to escape. The name of Robespierre was in every mouth m that vast hall, acclaimed with cries of wild ap- proval that re-echoed to the very Tuileries The Dunlay family, ar, may be imagined, beside themselves w.th joy, waited for Robespierre outside but he was nowhere to be seen. It was in vain they inquired of every likely passer-by. He had completely disappeared. Leaving the Assembly-room among the first he had slipped out under cover of night, taking a short cut to the Tuileries, whose dark mass aided his 236 Robespierre miiii i further fl.ght. For he was flying from his glorifi- cation, escaping from his rabid admirers, who would have borne him in triumph thiough the streets of sleeping Paris, making them ring with thunderous shouts of triumph. Creeping along the side of the walls, h,s face muffled in his collar, he hastened his steps to the Conciergerie, and as he walked his dioughts reverted to the subject of his reception 1 he Jacobins' enthusiasm must have resounded to the chamber of the Committee of Public Safety and fallen like a thunderbolt among the traitors in the very midst of their dark plots! The effect must have been terrible ' He already pictured the Convention appealing to him with servile supplica- tion, dehvering the Committee into his hands, and askm- the names of his enemies, that thev might pass sentence on them all. He smiled triumphantly as he crossed the Pont-Neuf, without casting a glance at the splendid spectacle which lay at his feet on either side of the bridge ; for it was July and all the glory of a summer sky studded with stars was mirrored in the stream. He walked on quickly, wrapt in his own thoughts Ah! not only did they wish to luin him, but they would have sent Olivier to his death ' He had forestalled them, however. The very next day they should take his son's vacant place in that same Conciergerie, the antechamber of the guillotine ! Robespierre had reached the quay, and was now at the foot of the Silver Tower, whose pointed spire "All These Gliding Ghosts" 237 "^o nca\tn. h was in that tower thar Fn,. qu.c,-Ti„viiic, ,hc Pubi,c prc.ccu,o, :;,:«! " u..™.a,, IVi,,,,,,,, _ j,„„,^ l,e„ch™„ 1 U, 7 R"besp,errc s,a„„cd ,hc u.ndo.vs. All lights we e Ah vL..h ;"'"'''. ^'"■•''''^"•''^•°''' himself. ;?;,r' M^ """V ."'^ --"f"" -ould soon be He had 1^ -7, butchery, no „,ore .udlcinc I He had promised ,. ,o the mother of his 'on ard he would keep his word t , , ' three days. ' ' ' ''^ "°''"' «i*i" Reaching the side entrance of the Concier.erie he^gave^ three knocks, and a gra.i..g .as openef ^ " It IS I— Citoycn Robespierre " The gate swung back on it. binges, and a voice was heard exclaiming— 'voice " Stilul elfralcrnki, din;„ ! " It was Collas, the turnkev, on duty ''I want Citoyen Foutiuicr-Tirr.ilie." " He has not returned, citoyen." Robespierre betrayed impatience -J'NrtimrwnrrL:^'^;.^.^^-- ^'i"here. te. me ascertain X;^! ^f^^ 238 Robespierre Would you care to follow me ? Just wait a mo- ment ; I have not the keys." Collas went back into his lodge, and returned with a bunch of keys. Then, taking down a lan- tern from the wall, he commenced threading the mazy alleys of the Conciergeric, followed by the Incorruptible. It was the first time Robespierie had entered this prison in which so many of his victims had been immured. The two men turned mto the old banqueting hall of the Ki/igs of France, a long gallery with a vaulted ceiling of oval arches supported on massive pillars; keeping to the left, they came upon an iron trclliscd gate, which the turnkey opened. Robespierre found himself in a railed enclosure, a kind of antechamber leading to another vaulted gallery, which in the dim light seemed of indefinite length. Two towering gates on the left opened into a court on which the moon shone, lighting up vividly a pile of buildings sur- rounded with grey arcades. As Robespierre and the turnkey advanced they came upon a man sleeping in a chair, with a lantern at his feet. It was the night watchman. " Hallo, Barassin ! " called the turnkey, shaking his bunch of keys in his ears. The man woke with a start. At the mention of Robespierre he rose in a tremor of fear at being caught slumbering on duty. He excused himself profusely — he had been so hard-worked this last month ; there was no sleeping at all with the cart- ,:!llf (< a mo- All These Gliding Ghosts " 239 loads of prisoners coming at every moment. Then, with officious zeal, he invited Robespierre to re-' lain with him while Colhis went to ascertain if the registrar was still there, 'hsu-h this was very unlikely at that late hour. ]'he turnkey went on his errand. " What part of the prison ; -his .? ■' asked Robes- pierre, looking around. " We are between the two gates, cUoyen. Have you never been to the Concicrgerie before ? " " No ; never." Now was his chance ! Barassin had a subject to interest the Incorruptible, and he launched forth into a long description, overcrowded with details. On the other side of that little door to the right was the ward of the male prisoners. Here at the end was the women's courtyard, facing the arched building in which were their cells. Robespierre had but to advance a little, and he could see throu.:h the gate the fountain in which they washed their linen, for they remained dainty to the last, and wished to ascend the scaffold in spotless clothes. Barassin laughed a loud brutish laugh, happy at the seeming interest Robespierre took in his explanations. "Is the Recorder's office on the left, then.?" questioned the Incorruptible, his eyes fixed on the dark gallery through which the turnkey had dis- appeared. Barassin began another string of details. Yes, 240 Robespierre m i i that gallery led to it, and to the exit as well, through the concierge's lodge, where the condemned had their hair cut after the roll-call. " The call takes place here, just where you are standing," he explained. Robespierre started, and moved away. His eyes rested on the long line of cells, whose doors were lost in long perspective under the vaulted archway he had noticed on his entrance, and which had seemed so vast through the iron bars of the second gate. He lowered his voice to ask if those cells were occupied. Barassin's reply reassured him; there was no one there just then. Then, indicating a cell opposite Robespierre, the watchman continued, carried away by his subject — " This is the cell in which the Queen was locked up." He opened a panel in the door that Robespierre might glance within. The Incorruptible hesitated at first, and as he bent over resolutely to look, Barassin found further material for his questionable wit : " It 's not such a palace as her Versailles, eh ? " Robespierre quickly closed the apertu e, on the outside of which he perceived a black cross. "What! a cross?" he exclaimed, staring the while at the sign of redemption. The watchr-an told him that some prisoner had probably daubed this cross on the panel after the Queen's death. The prisoners always stopped be- fore it to pray, and it was their habit' to scribble in (< All These Glidin^^ Ghosts 241 that way over the prison u-alls with pencils, or even nails. " Why, here 's your name ! " he chuckled, highly amused. Robespierre shuddered. " My name ? " Barassin raised his lantern, throwing the light on an inscription in large letters on the wall, under some prison notices. The Incorruptible read — "We shull be avenged, Robespierre, monster! your turn will come ! " The watchman swung his lantern from place to place, lighting up, for the Incorruptible's benefit, oth?r ominous inscriptions addressed to him. " Robespierre, the tyrant ! " " Robespierre, the assassin ! " The Incorruptible turned pale. He was well accustomed to insult and abuse, no doubt, but these imprecations on the walls, in that gruesome and silent prison, seemed like the last curses of the dead, written in letters of fire and blood ! "They must occupy themselves, I suppose ! " re- marked Barassin, still laughing. The Incorruptible turned away, feeling ill at ease. Again he questioned the man, fixing him the while as if he would fathom the depths of his experience. Did he keep watch every night.? He must have witnessed some heart-rending scenes? Was he not disturbed in his sleep, living thus in continual 16 i« 'J'i 242 Robespierre contact with the dread spectre of death ? Could he really sleep ? Did not the cries of the victims dis- turb h.s slumber ? Was he not haunted by their solemn leavetakings and their sobs? Citoyen Robespierre could rest assured ' Baras- sin slept soundly enough ! Such fancies were very v/ell for women ! In the first place, the dead never returned, and then, after all, it was not Barassin who killed the victims, -./as it ? Steps were heard advancing, and the turnkey made his reappearance. The registrar had gone away and taken the keys with him. It was impos- sible to get at the prison register. He then sug- gested that Robespierre should go with him to the men's ward. "Let us awake the prisoners. If the man you seek IS there you will easily recognize him." The Incorruptible refused, starting involuntarily. He had no wish to be seen by the prisoners. Then, there was but one course left. Barrassin might accompany him, and speak to the men's turn- key, who would look for this Germain from bed to bed, and Bara^.in would bring back to Robespierre the result of the inquiry, as he himself had to return to his post. Robespierre would have to wait a little while, of course. And Collas moved the watch- man's chair towards him. " ^""'y go°^ •' I will wait, but be quick ! " The two men went away, turning to the left through the small gate, which Barassin carefully ,» > ? Could he le victims dis- nted by their red ! Baras- ics were very le dead never Barassin who the turnkey ir had gone : was impos- e then sug- him to the bie man you m." ivoluntarily. ers. Barrassin men's turn- cm bed to Robespierre d to return A'ait a little the watch- k!" 3 the left, I carefully "All These Gliding Ghosts" 243 closed behind him. Robespierre followed the watchman with his eyes. " Happy brute ! He can sleep In peace I •' he exclaimed. So this man's sleep was not disturbed bv such horrible visions as haunted Robespierre ! B Ji then, as the watchman said, he had not killed the victims • his name had not been inscribed on these walls as a term and brand of infamy and hatred. That writing on the wall seemed to be dancing before his eyes. " Robespierre, assassin ; your turn will come ! " So this was the ciy which rose from every breast ! If he was vanquished in the morrow's struggle, if he h:.d to ascend the scaffold without having accomplished the act of social regeneration of which he had so long dreamt, he would leave behind him the execrated memory of a despot and bloodthirsty tyrant ! His name would be coupled with all the monsters of history! Robespierre would be cited by posterity side by side m.h Nero, Caligula, Tiberius ! Stepping slowly towards the watchman's seat, he sat down sideways, his eyes hxed, like a somnambu- hst's, and his arm resting on the back of the chair, as he repeated in a low murmur — " Your turn will come ! " Almost the same dread, ominous words had the night before forced him to start up suddenly, and impelled him to rush towards the window of his room. 244 Robespierre coll'^'' ^°^''^''"''' "''^' Your hour has I. was the shade of Camille Desmoulins that had by h,s wfo, ,he pale and sweet Lucile, sough, to draw h™ to them, to dr.g him along with thL on the blood-strewn way to which they had been h! "'""'^'"J ''•''""■ !■ was ..,er, of course f He was subject to it ; it peopled his sleep with haru,™g v,sions a„d fearful dreams. Bu, these were nothing but oxriffrl Koii • o i^ui excited hallucinations, crea-ures ot his overwrought brain. Robespierre had now closed his eyes, overcome thoughts and fancies. His ideas were becoming onf.., He was vaguely wondering whetief such imaginings were due to fever after all P If this was not the cas-' ;^ ,irnc ^ u . . • ** that .«,.!. Ar P^'^^P' ^'' conscience that awakened from its torpor, and rose at night to confront him with his victims ? Y.c v •ha. relentlessly g„awed":\is^:Xr::: -ung from him a gasping confession f^aLrm Had not Fou,u,er-Ti„,ille seen the Seine one ThLr, """""'■"»" waves of blood? of remorse, perhaps ? Remorse ? Why ? Re- --eforajustdeed,foraworltofredLption? caused V'™"' """ '™" ^ "'''''■' ™^8'--<'-- caused by an over-excited and over-active brain, ir hour has ilins that had accompanied e, sought to ^ith them on ^ had been inished with of course ! sleep with But these >) creatures i, overcome cad of his becoming g whether ;r all? If conscience It night to conscience rings, and uf alarm ! ieine one )f blood? outcome y ? Re- emption ? lagination ve brain, " All These Gliding Ghosts " 245 which, weakened by excess, clothed the simplest objects with supernatural attributes. Robespierre's eyes were now half-closed, and wandered dreamily to the women's courtyard, where grey arches stood out in clear and sharp relief under the soft moonlight. He was in deep reverie, wondering what could be the true cause of such strange illusions, and as he wondered, examples from past history came crowding to his mind. Yes . . . did not Brutus imagine that he saw the shade of Ccesar gliding into his tent, when it could have been nothing but the flicker of a lamp on the curtains moved by the wind, or a moonbeam playmg, as that one yonder, on a pillar ? As he gazed his eyes dilated in horror. It was no moonbeam. The outlines of t woman's form, ethereal and transparent, stood motionless against the' pillar. It moved! Another form, white and shadowy, glided towards the first, and a third emerged from the dim background and joined them. Robespierre followed every movement with horror- stricken gaze. He rose, crept nearer: was he awake, or was it indeed a dream? Had he again fallen a prey to delusions at the very moment when he was persuading himself of their unreality ? He was not asleep ! He was wide awake ! He felt the hot blood coursing through his veins, he walked to and fro, and was completely self-possessed! He knew he was at the Conclcrgerie, and had come to fetch his son Olivier. A little while ago he had eniSiafesiiSfc 246 Robespierre conversed with two men there, on that very spot, the turnkey and the night watchman. And yet his nervous imagination conjured up before his eyes those chimerical visions clothed with the semblance of reality ! For, of course, he was rot deceived, ho knew well enough they were unreal delu.>ioris, and yet he felt nervous and ill at ease ! "W,;>i tifrjnge be'uigs we are!" he thought. " Poor human nature I We pride ourselves on our strength 01" mind, and yet we are subject to such hallucinanons ! " Again he was startled from his musings. Other forms suddenly appeared in the white moonlit court- yard, walking slowly up and down, in pairs, singly, or in groups. They came and went, stopped, con- versed with or took 'eave of each other, all in a great hush, withoui seeming to notice the Incorruptible, who in his fear kept as much as possible aloof, never moving his eyes from them a moment. Suddenly, he uttered a cry. He had bent for- ward to examine their features and had recognised . . . Madame Roland ! . . . Madame Roland ! . . . and Madame Elizabeth, the king's sister; . . . Good God ! and there was Charlotte Corday, the girl who had killed Marat ! The courtyard filled with new forms, blanched and wan, gliding about with su ''er- natural grace in the pale moonlight. Robesp ; stood rooted tr 'he spot, seized with w:'-^ ter ; . " Am I mad he asked himself. if li at very spot, AnJ yet his Dre his eyes le semblance deceived, he elu. ions, and he thought, elves on our ject to such ngs. Oiher oonlit court- pairs, singly, topped, coti- other, all notice the as much as from them d bent for- I recognised oland ! . . . ... Good :he girl who d u'ith new with su ■>er- Robesp , . : . '■i''^ ter.or. "All These Gliding Ghosts " 247 Ghosts ! Yes, they were ghosts ! What ! was he going to believe in ghosts, like old women and children ? It was folly, crass folly, and he re- peated aloud — " Madness ! sheer madness ! " But what did it all mean! What were those wandering forms which reminded him of beings long dead f Were they subtle effluences of their bodies that could pass through the prison walls, invisible by day, but luminous at night, as phos- phorescent spectres were said lo flit among tomb- stones in churchyards by moonlight, to the dismay of the weak and credulous. " Yes, the weak and credulous ! " he repeated, in a voice which quavered none the less, " the weak and credulous, easily prone to fear and remorse ..." He went towards the gate of the men's ward livid with fright, in the hope that the watchman would come and put an end to these harrowing phantasms. He cried out in desperation — " Docs the man never mean to come ! " At that moment a man's form appeared in the gallery to his right, and he went towards it hope- fully. Barassin ? But he recoiled. No ! it was not he ! The form grew more distinct, others followed. There were now six, eight, ten, twenty of them, a band of prisoners slowly and silently moving towards the gate. They were coming, all coming ! He recognised them : 248 Robespierre seivith Vr """'"" """ g°-8 entrance. i the bars, ' were the iscd them, us of his t to sec if ig of the hey were Every- ^ did they his Way ? lie living, he dead ? I horror, hind the ;ruesome N'one of s proof, ;ination. Id have atening m, one "All ihese Gliding Ghosts" 249 and all. Tiiose iron barriers would have yielded to their united criort, and burst asunder ! Even as he thought tiiis the gratings swung back noiselessly. Robespierre recoiled, his flesh creeping, cold beads of perspiration starting on his forehead. The gates had opened ! It was all true then ! They were real ! The whole array of spectres was coming down upon him ! They were advancing slowly, they were entering tlvc courtyard ' No, they had not seen him ! Robespierre was still re- treating, step by step. "They haven't seen me'" he gasped. If he could gain the passage to the left of the archway, which was the only exit available, he was safe ! . He would escape them ! For they were not likely to follow him into tlie street. . . . He reached the vaulted passage, stepping cau- tiously backwards, keeping them in sight all the while, like a criminal in dread of detection. But at the entrance, of the pass.age Danton and Camilla Desmoulins confronted him. " Danton ! Camille ! " He started back, shaking with fear. Every exit was barred ! These two noted victims were advancing care- lessly, conversing too;ether. They had not noticed him either ! The door of the Queen's cell now moved. What ! was that going to open too ? i' 250 Robespierre ! t Mane Antoinette appeared on the threshold descended the fesv steps and k !• ' others, vvhJ all made deep obeisance at the approach of their sovereign. The Queen ! it was indeed the Queen ! Robespierre felt now that he was Tost. Flight had become impossible. The one remaining means of escape was by the little grating of the men's court- yard. He tried to reach it, still walking backwards without once losing sight of the apparitions, his arms stretched behind him, ev^ry muscle strained, and both hands clenched convulsively. He soon came m contact with the grating, and tried to push «t open wKh his back. Not succeeding he abruptly turned round. It was locked ! He tried madly to force ,t, but the massive iron bars proved too much for his strength. He seized and shook the lattice m his agony. The rattling noi . made him turn quickly, thinkir all th. spectr had come down upon him. But no ! They stood still in the same places, motionless, and apparently unconscious of his presence. But thi , could not last ; . . . they musi see h,m sooner or later ! And if he were seen he would surely be the prey of these aiisen tenants of the tomb I He wiped the c wcnr from his brow panting and breathless, and de sudden frantic' effort in his overwhelming pai!ic to repel the ghastly vision, turning away from it. "It is absurd! The dead never return!" he cried stamping violently. ' i;i I ie threshold, others, who •ach of their en ! Fh'ght had ng means of men's court- ; backwards, aritions, his :le strained, He soon ricd to push he abruptly d madly to d too much the lattice - him turn orne down 1 the same :ious of his they must re seen he tenants of I his brow, en frantic he ghastly he cried, " All These Gliding Ghosts " 25 1 He persuaded himself that it was only necessary to disbelieve in it and the vision would fade, to re- fuse to look, and he would no longer see the phan- toms. He then turned round boldly, as if to prove his words. Every eye was upon him. 'f ey appeared ter- rible in the awful majesty of their wrongs, as if accusing him, as if judging him. He remained mo- tionless, terror-stricken. Yes, they were all looking at him ! Slowly, silentlv they glided towards him. "Oh! no further! no further!" he cried. "I iiunlore you ! I am frightened I . . ," " /ery limb trembled, as he thus prayed them to desist. " -.1 yes! I know what you are p:oing to say, I see the worr' -cmbling on your lips : ' Assassin ! ' " The victim sermed to him to I. end their heads in mute assent. He feared they would speak, and hastened to prevent them. . . . Yes, he was an assassin, he knew it ! ... It was just and right they should call him so ! He knew, yes, he knew, what they wanted of him. ... He must set free the prisoners, overthrow the scafFold .? The victims again nodded approval. Yes ! • . . Yes ! ... he would do everything, anything they asked. He swore it to them. . . . " Bui in pity go ! I entreat you ! Oh go ! in P'^y> g^ and leave me ! " The spectres remained motionless, their eyes still hxed upon him. 252 ' p> r Robespi lerre li " Mercy f " he criprf « u y nc cried. « Have mercv ' " ^es, mercy I ... he begged for mercv < Tu • looks would kill him f He cou d 211 '"" '-ger! It wa. too much ' H ; . ' "^^ J^ed on madness, and teried'^:;^^-:/- ^Jone' I am fnghtcned ' horribly ni.htened . So say.ng he tottered forward readv'toH r for support. But it gave way "^" " ""^'P ' l":lp ' " he screamed i'."t b::!;;': ""'"""■' ''"'^''^'"■« »-■•■'- office. He Id T"""" '""' '"^ "S-rar's «re. .ae. inrllnrslrrR ^ Pierre on the ground hi, \.Ja i . ^°^"- -T-u S'lJuiia, nis head buried n hie Ko„j courtyard.^" Het, d 'd:::" is'rnf °" '°r^ p^^^" raise the Incorn,ntiir r!, ' ' "'' '"='' •° ■ifed his haggard e '^°''.-P'-; ^wote and violently push:d hir^.v "'" °' ""= ™" "^ Barlr"" ■"""'""" ^-^^^^ y«'">-ghed ^^^Robespierre rubbed his eyes, and looked anxiously "You've had a dream? A n' u. « Y^^ I » , • • . . A nightmare, eh.? " ^^s ! answered Robespierre now h' ir again. «I hivp ho^ r ., himself rising with d,^:„, h^ tu"'j:''"'-: ^'- c^air which the ^atc'h^nMdtrrhir ''' m cy ! " 'ercy ' Their 5t bear it any ght now bor- • " Let me ghtened ! " to drop from ■ of the chair oice outside, e registrar's ntered, then t of Robes- I his hands, must have the paved nd tried to iwoke and le man he " laughed anxiously are, eh ? " himself Then on the fR. " All These Gliding Ghosts " 253 Barassin now told Robespierre the result of his quest. They had interrogated the prisoners, from bed to bed. The young man he sought was not among them. Robespierre, still uneasy, and casting anxious and furtive glances in every corner, expressed his thanks. Suddenly he rose and seized Barassin by the arm. " Arc we alone, here ? " he asked. "Why, yes!" answered the man in some surprise. "Then let us go ! " said Robespierre, impatiently, " let us go at once ! " Barassin took his lantern, and walked in front. " This way ! " he said, opening the wicket through which they had entered. In the gallery Robespierre again seized the man's arm, and bent forward to see if the way was clear } then feeling immense relief, he rushed towards the' exit, almost running, and followed with difficulty by Barassin, who with the lantern dangling in his hand could scarcely keep pace with him. "Hallo! Citoycn Robespierre!" he panted, " you 're going too fast ! " But the Incorruptible continued his headlone flight. ^ CHAPTER XII I I THE EVE OF THE BATTLE Robespierre could breathe again. He was once more .n the open, the silent stars above him, the Se.ne flecked with white bars of reflected moonlight flowmg at his feet. But he dared noUinger there.' He turned quickly, and darted along close to the walls fearing that for him, as once for Fouquier- Tmvdle, the water would take the crimson hue of blood. By slow degrees he became calmer. Re- freshing gusts of cool night air fanned his fevered brow, and restored him to reality. He thought of Ohvier again If he were not in the Concie;gene, where could he be .? ^ ' Entering the inner court of the Tuileries, at first he seemed undecided, and then, as if under a sudden mipulse, vv^nt straight towards the Pavilion of i^'berty. The Committee of Public Safety held its meetings there, in the very apartment once occu- pied by Louis XVI. This committee usually worked far mto the night, and Robespierre was sure offindmgsomeone. As he expected, he met Bil- laud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois, who were crossmg the vestibule of the ground floor at that moment. He accosted them angrily, for the ^wo The Eve of the Batth men, who had been hissed and hooted ^SS ■ «i. ihe Jacobin <^lub, now seemed to exult, as though they held some secret threat over his head. The ironical smiles he fancied he saw placing round their lips aggravated his fury. " So you have released the prisoner I sent to La Force .? " he cried. "Quite true ! " replied Billaud-Varennes, relishing Robespierre's discomfiture as a set-ofF against the Jacobins' hooting. " For what reason .? " "To cross-examine him." " Where is he ? " "That is for you to find out." "I command you to send him back immediately to J^a Force ! " ' " We receive no orders from you ! " "■ Then it is to be war between us ? You shall J'^avc ,t, scoundrels! war to the knife' And to-morrow too ! " and turning away abruptly, he went towards the steps, and pu.hed the door open in a violent rage. Billaud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois retraced the.r steps to apprise their colleagues at the Con- vention of their stormy interview with Robespierre But on the threshold of the Assembly-room Billaud stopped his companion. " Wait a moment," he said, « let me cross- examine the young man first." So saying, he went upstairs to the attics, where HIGH SCilUOL LIBRARY m hi i 2!;6 Robespierre Olivier had been locked up ever since live o'clock under the charge of a gendarme, to whom Couion- geon, the Committee's agent, had confided him, with strict orders that the prisoner was to be kept entirely out of sight until the Committee had decided on his fate. » 'li Coulongeon was one of the sharpest detectives of the Committee. It was he who, disguised as a beggar, had been the object of Blount's sudden barks in the forest of Montmorency, where he had wit- nessed the interview between Robespierre and Vaughan, Driven away by Robespierre's agents, he had gone immediately to the entrance of the forest, expecting vainly the Englishman's reappear- ance. On his return to Paris the same evening he had reported his discovery at once to the Committee of Public Safety. Billaud-Varennes rubbed his hands gleefully. He was on the scent of a plot. An Englishman ? That could be no other than Vaughan, Fox's agent, who was known to have been already two days in Paris. Ah ! Robespierre had secret interviews with him, had he ? A plot, of course ! It was splendid ! Nothing could be more oppor- tune ! « Run quickly, and ascertain if the Englishman is still at the American Consulate, while we draw up the warrant of arrest ! " was his immediate order. But at the Consulate the detective was told that ice five o'clock whom Coulon- I confided him, was to be kept ttee had decided rpest detectives , disguised as a 's sudden barks re he had wit- )bespierre and Pierre's agents, itrance of the lan's reappcar- ?vening he had Committee of )bcd his hands f a plot. An than Vaughan, e been already re had secret lot, of course ! ' more oppor- Englishman is e we draw up diate order, was told that i The Eve of the Battle an had just left Paris. Suspecting a trick Vaujih he took other m 257 icans to continue his inquiries, only to find after all that the Englishman had started for Geneva directly after leaving Montmorency. The members of the Committee were greatly disappomtcd on learning that the plot must remain unravelled, for how could they prove the interview witnout witnesses? Coulcngeon was the only one who had seen Robespic.re speaking with Vaughan, but he w.s in the pay of the Committee, and no one would believe him. Thcv rested their hopes on the probable return of the Englishman, but they waited to no purpose, and were finally obliged to abandon the attempt. One evening, however, Coulongeon had brought the Committee an unlooked-for piece of news. Having had a message to take to the prison of La Bourbe, he had found himself in the Acacia court- yard among the prisoners just at their supper-hour. Two female prisoners had attracted his attention. It seemed to him as if it was not the first time he had seen them, and after searching his memory for a moment, he recognised them as the two women who were with Vaughan in the forest of Mont- morency before Robespierre arrived on the scene. Yes, he remembered it all now ! It was so ! There was not the slightest doubt ! The gaoler, when questioned, completely confirmed his suspicions. The women did come from Montmorency, where they had been arrested by Robespierre's orders. 17 258 Robespierre "Now we have two witnesses!" Bi!laud-Va> rennes cried in delight. " Three ! " the agent interjected. " For, now I come to thinic of it, there was a young man with them," "He must be found . ; -o ! Quick to Mont- morency, and bring him back with you ! " At Montmorency, after two days of fruitless search, the detective discovered Clarisse's house in the forest. The gardener on being interrogated replied that he was completely ignorant of the whereabouts of Olivie.-, who had disappeared the very day his mother and his fiancee were arrested. . . . Perhaps Leonard the locksmith could tell him. Questioned in his turn, Leonard replied evasively. Q)ulongeon then informed him who he was, and threatened him with the law, so that Leonard ended by owning that the young man had started the same night for Paris. He swore that was all he knew. Coulongeon, pre- tending to be quite satisfied, thanked him and went away. But returning soon after he adroitly ques- tioned the neighbours on Leonard's connections and acquaintances. The agent learnt that when the locksmith went to Paris he took up his abode in furnished apartments in the Rue de Rocher, kept bj a certain widow Beaup-rand. « Now I am on the right track," thought Cou- longeon. Once back in Paris the agent had little difficulty in making the good woman speak. Did the widow Billaud-Va^ " For, , now a young man jick to Mont- 3U!" ys of fruitless isse's house in :rrogated replied he whereabouts e very day his . . . Perhaps . Questioned Coulongeon hreatened him )y owning that light for Paris, ulongeon, pre- him and went adroitly ques- mnections and lat when the his abode in cher, kept by :hought Cou- ttle difficulty 'id the widow The Eve of the Battle 259 Beaugrand know the young man ? Pardieu ' knew him too well ! H She was the daring insultcr of Robespierre, the young madman arrested on the Fete of the Supreme Being who was now im- prisoned at La Force. The joy of the Committee knew no bounds, vvhcn they learnt the news on leaving the hall of the Convention on the 8th Thermidor. Billaud^Varennes, as can be imagined, was also overjoyed. " We will have the three prisoners out of gaol, at once, and keep them here at hand." Two orders of release had been immediately drafted, one for the prison of La Bourbe, the other for La Force. Coulongeon had gone first of all to La Force to fetch Olivier, whom he conducted straight to the Tuileries and locked m a little chamber above the Committee-room under charge of a gendarme, i.... at the prison of La Bourbe he was too late; the two women had been t?.ken away by Lebas, undw an order of release from Robespierre. On his return the police-agent had sought Billaud- Varennes to apprise him of the result of his errand, but finding that he w-is away until after the meeting of the Jacobins, he left a sealed note for him with full particulars. Billaud received this on his return from the Jacobins accompanied by Coliot d'Herbois. « Out of three witnesses, only one is left to us / " 26o Robespierre > I he exclaimed on reading it. " The most important one, however ! We have the man himself who in- sulted the traitor ! We must cross-examine him directly. It will be amusing." Robespierre just then appeared on the scene and hastened the examination by his violent outburst. Billaud-Varennes began to cross-examine Olivier in the little chamber above the Committee-room. The young man knew nothing of the plot. Robes- pierre might have had an interview with Vaughan in the forest, this was very possible, but he, Olivier, had left just after the Englishman's arrival. " You spoke to him, I suppose ? " " To whom ? " " To Vaughan." " Why, yes ! I exchanged a few words with him." " You knew him, then r " " My mother knew him. He was an old friend of hers." " She knew then what he came to Montmorency for .? " " Not in the least. It was quite a chance-meet- ing. He had lost his way, when thev ..." " And you know absolutely nothing of what passed after your departure ? " " Nothing, except that my mother and my Jianccs were arrested by Robespierre's infamous orders." Billaud-Varennes left the room greatly disap- pointed. He wondered if, after all, Olivier was telling the truth. chance-meet- Olivier was The Eve of the Battle 261 " "°^^^'^'"' '^"^ y°^'"g nian has the night to reflect over ."he said to himself, as he descended terT" f ' ?—^ '^'^' ^Sain to-morrow after havmg conferred wi:h the Committee, perhaps by that tune he will have decided to speak ' And yet I cannot but think he was sincere " With this he re-entered the room where his col- leagues were assembled. But such an extraordinary scene of an.mation presented .tself when he opened the door that he forgot the object of his visit Th,s Committee-room, like the others next to it formed part of a suite of apartments recently be' iongmg to the King. It offered a strange spectade, w. h ,s m,xture of elegance and vulgarity, which said more than words for the ravages of the Kevoiution. Over the five doors, two of which opened on to a long corridor, the royal arms surmounted by a crown had been roughly erased. The walls and panels of the doors were covered with printed dc crees of the Convention, and tricolour placards were pasted up everywhere. This array of Revolutionary literature struck the observer as at once ominous and pathefc, m the midst of all the grace and beauty of that wh.te and gold reception-room, decorated i.Vthe purest Lou-s XV. style, with its daintily carved cor- nices and painted ceiling, where Nymphs and Cupids ported m the glowing spring-tide among flowers The contrast was even more apparent in the furni" turc. Gilded armchairs covered with rare tapestry, 262 Robespierre i f now all torn, stood side by side with plain deal S'cats, some of which were very rickety. A side- board laden with eatables and wine-bottles completed the installation of the Terror in the palace of the Tuileries. Billaud-Varennes was still standing there on the threshold. Collot d'Herbois, surrounded by Barere, Carnot, Prieur, and Elie Lacoste, was violently ad- dressing Saint-Just, Robespierre's friend, who was seated at the table, engaged in writing the speech he was to deliver before the Convention on the morrow. Saint-Just, calm and contemptuous, re- plied to their insults by a shrug of the shoulders. This disdain exasperated Collot d'Herbois beyond measure, and Saint-Just aggravated him still more by ironical inquiries about the Jacobins' meeting. " You are nothing more than a traitor ! " cried Collot ; " it is our indictment you are drawing up there, I suppose ? " " Yes, traitor ! threefold traitor ! " exclaimed Elie Lacoste. "Traitor and perjurer, you form with Robespierre and Couthon a triumvirate of cal- umny, falsehood, and betrayal." Saint-Just, without losing self-possession a mo- ment, stopped in his writing, and coldly offered to read them his speech. Barbre disdainfully refused to listen. "We fear neither you nor your accomplices! You are but a child, Couthon a miserable cripple, and as to Robespierre . . ." 1th plain deal ety. A side- ;les completed palace of the there on the ed by Barere, violently ad- nd, who was g the speech ition on the mptuous, re- le shoulders, rbois beyond still more by acting, itor ! " cried drawing up claimed Elie form with ite of cal" ;sion a mo- y offered to ccomplices ! ible cripple, The Eve of the Battle 263 At this moment an usher brought in a letter to Barere. He looked uneasy afcer he had read it, and signed to his colleagues to follow, leaving Saint-Just free to continue his work. In the lobby Barere told them it was a letter from Lecointre announcing the approaching attack upon the Committee by the troops of the Commune, and offering the battalion of his section for their defence. " It is exactly as I told you ! " cried Elie Lacoste. " The leaders of the Commune must be instantly arrested, and with them Robespierre and his two accomplices ! " " Commencing with Saint-Just and his speech," said Collot. "Robespierre was here just now," observed Billaud-Varennes, who had followed his colleagues out of the room ; « he wanted to know what we had done with the prisoner from La Force. We told him we had not to render account to him, whereupon he went away in a rage, crying out, ' You want war ? War you shall have then ! ' wj have been warned by the Incorruptible himself, vou see ! " ^ " Yes, but we shall crush him through his English- man ! We have witnesses enough now ! " " Nay, unhappily we have not ! " replied Billaud. "What! we have no witnesses?" exclaimed Barfere in surprise. " What do you m.ran ... Has not Coulongeon . . . ? " "Coulongeon arrived too late at La liourbe t»«^ 264 Robespierre Lebas had just taken them ofF, by Robespierre's orders — no one knows whither." " Oh! the villain ' he suspected something, then, and abducted them to suppress their evidence ; but we have at any rate the young man from La Force." " He is upstairs, but he knows nothing." " He lies, he is a traitor ! " " No, he seemed quite sincere, and he execrates Robespierre; but I shall question him again to- morrow." "And 'jwiuwhile we must resort to stratagem," remark^ n.^rbre. They - aiso, and with even more reason I " Fouche shrugged his shoulders regretfully. I had been the intention of the Committee but th .wo prisoners were beyond their reach. ' "How .?" asked Olivier anxiously of Lrlr^r'^^^-^-o'-Ser at the prison Olivier gasped — " Condemned ? " 18 274 Robespierre « Not yet ! But Lcbas had taken them away with an order from Robespierre." Here Fouche, picking up the order left on the table by Billaud-Varenncs, showed it to Olivier, who read it in horrified amazement. " Where are they then," he cried. « At the Conciergeric, where they would be judged within twenty-four hours." " The wretch ! the wretch ! " He implored them that they might be released. The Committee were all-powerful ! — They, power- ful, indeed ? They looked at him pityingly. He believed that ? What simplicity ! How could they release the two women when they were on the point of being sacrificed themselves ? They would have difficulty enough to save their own heads ! "To-morrow," continued Fouche, "we shall most likely be with your mother, at the foot of the scaffold." Olivier looked at them in terror. Was it pos- sible ? Was there no one that could be found to kill this dangerous wild beast ? Fouche, who had consulted his colleagues in a rapid glance, now felt the moment ripe. " Assassinate him, you mean ? " he asked. Olivier lost all self-control. Is a mad dog assas- sinated ? He is killed, that's all! What did it matter if the one who did it were torn to pieces ; he would have had his revenge, and would save further victims. cen them away they would be 1 The Eve of the Batth (( Certainly is victorious, it is th mother." " said f^ouche, " and if R only ch ance of sav obcspierre ing your (( But d lon't A ma wen riots rely on that ' " Vadier remarked. t even further said, Patriots like Brutus are not oft en found'" he ' Which is the way out ? " Vadier pointed to the exit. "Thankyou, citovens I aj- i 't '■ It was not impossible » " Meanwhile, let us go and howl I " c Fouche. suggested And they rushed into che Convention-room, CHAPTER XIII A UROKEN IDOL Saint-Jusi- is in the tribune. Collot d'Herbois occupies the presidential chair, Collot who, at two in the morning, suspecting Saint-Just's treachery, had openly charged him with it. War is in the air, and every member is at his post. Fouche looks round for Robespierre as he crosses to hi? seat. There he is ; in the semicircle before the bust of Brutus, at the foot of the tribune which he seems to guard like a vigilant sentinel. " He is dressed as he was at the Fete of the Supreme Being," whispers Fouche ironically to his neighbour. Yes, the Incorruptible has on his sky-blue coat, white-silk embroidered waistcoat, and nankeen knee- breeches buttoned over white stockings, nor has he omitted the powder and the curls. What a strange figure, with his dapper daintiness, his old-fashioned attire, in that seething furnace of fifteen hundred people, actors and spectators, so closely packed, and, most of them with bared breasts, suffocating in the awful heat which oppresses them ! The sans- culottes up in the gallery have even taken off their traditional red nightcaps, which they hang on i 1m| ill A Broken Idol :Xhi::.'"" °' "-' ™"''-^^« '^^^ ^^oo,.,^.^ I' is as they c.pcccd. Since five .he hall ha, been .aken possession of by Ro„ospie,ris,s A .he wors. scum of Pa,is has gathoreS .here; aT bloodhounds of .he Resolution, all ,he riffraff Jl accompany the death-tumbrils .; the scafflr.!: : song of the C,n,„i„,,,. R.h-whe. and rowd rccru,ted and hired a. cwen.v-four ' sous a pel .l' drovvn „„h .heir vociferations every hostile aHeml^ made against the idol of the Commune "' 1 ins brutish mob, rccklno- «f ■neat, gingerbread and ht ^ ""'"«"■ P'''"'^'' ooison ,hf ' u ^'"'<:^""C. and drinking, poison the atmosphere of the Hall Robespierre's arrival at twelve o'clock is hailed by repeated rounds of loud applause, wbich he e Sn?:7V^'-'"-^°-p™"^^^-ni : Jurnmg to Lcbas who accompanies him h- re ™rks,"D,dI„ottcllyou,.vvouldbeasucces" So eertam ,s ho of victory tha. before starting he had set the Duplays quite at ease as to the is ue of he struggle. " Believe me," he had said,";' grea er part of the Convention are unbiassld.' But suddenly, at the commeneemen. of .he si. ■ng, when Sai„..Just appears in the ,r,bu„e counter movement makes itself felt i„ ,hc asscmblv Robespierre realising the importance of at o ee p^ ' .ntmg any hostile demonstrat.on, advanc s to'tt foot of the tribune, determined to daunt his -en.s by a bold fron.. Sain.-Fus. a o' ""''" waiuL jus>t at once renews 278 Robespierre the accusation brought against the Committee by the Incorruptible the day before, accentuating it without mentioning names. It is now that the anti-Robespierrist plot, admir- ably planned, begins to work. Tallien, one of the conspirators, breaks in upon Saint-Just violently. " Enough of these vague accusations ! " he cries. " The names ! Let us have the names ! " Saint-Just, encouraged by a look from Robes- pierre, simply shrugs his shoulders, and continues. But his voice is immediately drowned in a thunder- ing clamour, and in spite of the vehement protesta- tions of Robespierre, he is unable to finish his speech. The anti-Robcspicrrist cabal are playing their part well. They simply roar. Billaud-Varennes demands a hearing. He is already in the tribune, greeted by sustained applause. Robespierre, growing excited, protests and per- sists in speaking, but his voice is drowned in cries of " Silence ! Silence ! Let Billaud-Varennes speak ! " Collot d'Herbois rings the president's bell, and adds to the noise under the pretext of repressing it. « Let Billaud-Varennes speak ! Let Billaud- Varennes speak ! " But Robespierre continues to protest — -- Don't listen to that man ! His words are but poisonous drivel ! " Immediately loud cries are heard — " Order ! Order ! Robespierre is not in the tri- i -4 A Broken Idol :rrist plot, admir- 3, breaks in upon 279 is not in the tri- bune ! Billaud-Varcnnes is in the tribune ! Silence f ciiience ! " And Robespierre, with a shrug of contempt, returns to his place. Silence being gradually restored, Billaud-Varen- nes begins to speak. " I was at the Jacobins' yesterday ; the room was crowded with men posted there to insult the National representatives, and to calumniate the Committee of Pubhc Safety which devotes its days and nights to kneadmg bread for you, to forging arms and raising armies for you, to sending them forth to victory I " A voice is heard in approval, and fresh applause breaks out; but the gaze of the orator is fixed on that part of the assembly called the Mountain. He seems to recognise some one, at whom he points with lifted arm. "I see yonder, on the Mountain, one of the wretches who insulted us yesterday. There he stands ! " This is the signal for renewed uproar. Several members spring up and turn round towards the per- son indicated. " Yes, yes, behold him ! " cries Billaud. The agitation increases. Cries of « To the door with him! Turn him out !" are heard. The man pleads innocence, and tries to weather the storm, but seeing the majority against him escapes as best he can mixes with the crowd and disappears. Silence is with difficulty restored among the infuriated members 28o Robespierre m I' hi^i ^i The orator continues, throwing violent and insidious phrases broadcast among the assembly like lighted fire-brands. His thrusts strike nearer home now ; he accuses Robespierre openly to his face. "You will shudder when I tell you that the soldiery is under the unscrupulous control of that man who has the audacity to place at the head of the section-men and artillery of the city the de- graded Hauriot, and that without consulting you at all, soleiy according to his own will, for he listens to no other dictates. He has, he says, deserted the Committees because they oppressed him. He lies ! " Robespierre rises, his lips quivering at the insult, and attempts to reply from his place. "Yes, you lie!" continues Billaud. "You left us because you did not find among us either parti- sans, flatterers, or accomplices in your infamous projects against Liberty. Your sole aim has been to sow dissension, to disunite us that you might attack us singly and remain in power at the head of drunkards and debauchees, like th.t secretary who stole a hundred and fifty thousand livres, and whom you took under your wing, you, the Incorruptible, you who make such boast of your strict virtue and integrity ! " Laughter, mixed with some applause is heard, but Robespierre shrugs his shoulders contemptuously at such vulgar abuse. Fouche, from his bench, laughs g violent and r the assembly cs strike nearer ; openly to his you that the control of that at the head of le city the de- consulting you 11, for he listens tys, deserted the 5ed him. He ng at the insult, ice. id. "You left us either parti- your infamous a aim has been that you might at the head of t secretary who vres, and whom e Incorruptible, ur strict virtue ise is heard, but ntemptuously at is bench, laughs ' 'i A Broken Idol 281 loudly with the rest, and leaning towards his nei^h- bour, whispers — '' "Clever tactics ! . . . Billaud is splendid ' " _ The speaker, in conclusion, appeals to the patriot- .sm of the assembly, and implores the members to watch over ,ts safety. If they do not take ener- getic measures against this madman, he says, the Convention is lost, for he only speaks of purifying It that_ he may send to the scaffold all those who stand ,n the way of his personal ambition. It is he msists, the preservation of the Convention which •s at stake, the safety of the Republic, the salvation ot their country. "I demand," so runs his peroration, "that the Convention sit permanently until it has baffled the plans of this new Catiline, whose only aim is to cross the trench which still separates him from supremacy by filling it with our heads ! " Thunders of applause greet Billaud-Varennes' words ; shouts, cheers, and waving of hands which continue long after he has left the tribune Robespierre now leaves his seat in great a<.itation crying — ° o , " It is all false, and I will prove it ! " But his words are again drowned in an uproar of voices, and cries of « Silence ! Silence ! " « I will give the traitor his answer ! " exclaims Robespierre, trying to make himself heard above the tumult which increases at every wo.'-d he utters so that his voice is now completely J.^.t. Some of 282 Robespierre f . ; the members rush into the semicircle, forming a living rampart round the tribune. The din is dominated by a new voice from the presidential chair. "Silence, let no man speak ! " it thunders forth. It is Thuriot, who has just replaced Collot d'Herbois in the chair. " I demand a hearing ! " vociferates the Incor- ruptible, " and I will be heard ! " " You shall not ! " " I wish to speak ! " cries a deputy, taking at the same time possession of the tribune. It is Vadier. Thuriot rings the president's bell. "Vadier has speech ! " "Yes, Vadier! Vadier!" members exclaim from all sides. Robespierre continues to protest, disputing franti- cally with his neighbours in his fury. • " It is infamous treachery ! Infamous ! " Again they call out — "Vadier! Silence! Vadier! Vadier!" " Citoyens ! " commences Vadier — But the speaker is interrupted by Robespierre who furiously persists in claiming a hearing. "• Compel him to be quiet ! " cries some one. Thuriot rings his bell, and orders Robespierre to let Vadier speak. " Vadier is to speak ! Silence ! " Robespierre once more resigns himself to his fate, and returns to his place. A Broken Idol 283 tes the Incor- Y^ taking at the s exclaim from .obespierre who self to his fate. The tumult dies away in a low murmur, above which Vadier's mellifluous voice is heard. « Citoyem ! " he begins, " not until the 22nd Prairial did I open my eyes to the double-dealing of that man who wears so many masks, and when he cannot save one of his creatures consigns him to the scaffold ! " Laughter and applause run round the assembly. Thus encouraged, Vadier continues — "Only listen to him. He will tell you, with his usual modesty, that he is the sole defender of Liberty, but so harassed, so discouraged, so perse- cuted ! . . . And it is he who attacks every one himself!" "Hear, hear!" shouts a voice. "Excellent! That 's it, exactly ! " " He says," continues Vadier, « that he is pre- vented from speaking. Yet, strange to say, no one ever speaks but he ! " This new sally is hailed with renewed roars of laughter, and on every side members are convulsed with merriment. Robespierre writhes in his seat, casting glances of hatred and contempt around him. But Vadier is in the right mood, and goes on " This is his regular refrain : ' I am the best friend of the Republic, and as So-and-so has looked askance at me, So-and-so conspires against the Republic, since I and the Republic are one ! ' " Again laughter and cheers. « Very good, Vadier ( That 's it, Vadier ! " 284 Robespierre By this time the orator's ironical and facetious allusions have served their purpose well, covering Robespierre with ridicule, and lowering him in the eyes of many who were still wavering, hardly darin'> to join the opposition. But Vadier, carried away by success, wanders presently from the main point, and loses himself in a maze of petty details. He repeats anecdotes "oin<» the rounds of taverns and wine-shops, speaks of Robespierre's spies dogging the heels of the Com- mittee, and quotes his personal experience. The attention of the assembly begins to flag. Robespierre feels this and, taking instant advantage of it, tries to bring the Convention back to a sense of its dignity. " What ! can you give credence to such arrant nonsense ? " But Tallicn has realised the danger, and rushing towards the tribune cries — " I demand a hearing ! We are wandering from the main question ! " " Fear not ! I shall return to it I " replies Robes- pierre, who has now reached the semicircle, and tries to enter the tribune by another stairway. But several members standing on the steps push him back. « No ! we will have Tallicn ! Tallien ' " " After me ! " cries Robespierre, still struggling. " Tallien ! Tallien has speech now ! " But Robespierre climbs up by the banister with the fury of a madman. A Broken Idol 2d>s " Unjust, infamous judger. ' Will you then only listen to my enemies ! " ' ^ The Incorruptible is answered by the one cry nsmg from a hundred tliroats. ^ "Silence! Order' Order - Tallien ! Tallien I " I allien is in the tribune ;; 0>»^«./" he breaks ou.i„ a seemorian voice. 'Hold I Scoundrel!" ,!,„„, Robespierre, de.- perately. '^ ' ^* « Have the madman arrested ! " cries a voice in the crowd. Robespierre still does his utmost to force a passage on the stairway. ® "I will speak! I will be heard, wretches ! I Will speak ! The uproar increases, aggravated by Robespierre's boisterous pertinacity. The jingling of Thuriot's dituTty. " ''''''-' ^''-'^ ''-^' - -^^^°- The opening words of Tallicn's speech are al- ready audible, amidst enthusiastic cheers. Robes P'erre held firmly by some of the deputies, has ceased his struggles, and stands on the steps in an indignant attitude, his features twitching convulsively h.s eyes, glaring In hatred, fixed on the new speaker' who ,s preparing to hurl at him another shower of insults. " The masks are torn away ! " cries Tallien. " Bravo ! Bravo ! " "It was the speech delivered yesterday in this 286 Robespierre very hall, and repeated the same evening at the Jacobin Club, that brought us face to fare with this unmasked tyrant, this vaunted patriot, who at the memorable epoch of the invasion of the Tuileries and the arrest of the King, only emerged from his den three days after the fight ..." Sneers and hisses reach Robespierre, repeated up to the very steps of the tribune, below which he stands. "This honourable citizen, who poses before the Committee of Public Safety as champion of the oppressed, goes home, and in the secrecy of his own house draws up the death-lists which have stained the altar of new-born Liberty with so much blood ! " Renewed cheers and cries of " Hear ! hear ! " rise from nearly every scat in the hall. " But his dark designs are unveiled ! " continues Tallien. " We shall crush the tyrant before he has succeeded in swelling the river of blood with which France is already inundated. His long and successful career of crime has made him forget his habitual prudence. He has betrayed himself at the very moment of triumph, when nothing is wanting to him but the name of king ! . . . I also was at the Jacobins' yesterday, and I trembled for the Re- public when I saw the vast army that flocked to the standard of this new Cromwell. I invoked the shade of Brutus, and if the Convention will not have recourse to the swo;d of justice to crush this vening at the fare with this )t, who at the the Tuileries 2rged from his e, repeated up low which he )ses before the mpion of the ;cy of his own 1 have stained ath so much Hear ! hear ! " all. I ! " continues int before he of blood with His long and him forget his himself at the ng is wanting I also was at :d for the Re- lat flocked to I invoked the ition will not to crush this A Broken Idol tyrant, I am armed with a dagger that his h cart ! 287 shall pierce Tallien makes a movement as if to rush on Robespierre datracr in h-.nri. u .i • h.n-c. f ■ ' ^""^ ''"-' '^ arrested by a bu:st of unannnous applause. A hundred deputies have risen and are calling out • " Bravo T.M Bravo ! " o "^ • Liravo, 1 allien ! The orator, in an attitude of defiance, gazes TT ".,^^^"^!'--' ^^'<^^ g-Ping conv'uC; t the railings of the tribune, screams himself hoarse, challenging Tallien .nd the deputies aroun while they answer him with abuse, shaking thet' fcin his face. It is a veritable Babel of'cHe appeals, and insults. The President, now upstand-' 'ng, vainly tries to restore order with his bell At last there is a lull, of which Robespierre attempts to take advantage. "Vile wretches!" he crip<; u „,„ u demn me unheard?" ' ^^ '°"- But he is answered by a telling home-.hrust _ foree," ^°" °™ ''™"'' '™ "= "' P""'"g -"> And applause breaks out again louder than ever Robespierre, tired of struggling against the rough gang on the stairway, descends to th. centre of Mouri:^*' '"' ^''''''' "■= ^^"-^ "^ ">= I He was answered by an ominous cry — — 1/ 288 Robespierre !^ " No ! no ! The arrest ! To the votes for the arrest ! " To the votes ! The arrest ! Robespierre recoils in terror at the fearful words. His looks travel to the deputies of the centre, those of the Plain as they are called. "It is to the Plain I address myself and not to these traitors ! " he exclaims. But the Plain remains impassive. Shouts are now heard from all sides, " The arrest ! The arrest ! " Not a single voice mediates in his favour! Not one dares to defend his cause ! The crowd in the gallery have remained silent and unmoved from the very outset of the stormy scene, A cry of anguish rises to Robespierre's lips. " Villains ! Wretches ! " he gasps. But his voice is again drowned. "You are the villain ! To death with the tyrant ! To death with him ! To the vote for his arrest ! To the vote for his arrest ! " Robespierre, now completely exhausted, makes one supreme effort, addressing himself to Thuriot, who is still vainly trying to restore silence with his bell. " President of assassins, for the last time I demand the right of speech." " No ! No ! " cry all the deputies. " Then decree my murder. . . ." But his voice breaks, and the last word is lost in a hoarse cry. f :l A Broken Idol s votes for the jespicrre recoils looks travel to \e Plain as they elf and not to 1 sides, " The 1 favour ! Not e crowd in the aoved from the lespierre's lips. vith the tyrant ! for his arrest ! sted, makes one ) Thuriot, who with his bell. ; time I demand :s. word is lost in 289 "It is Danton's blood that chokes you I " Kobcspicrrc, livid -ir fh.. » interrupter. ''""'' ^"''"^ ^" '^e " Danton ? Ir is he, then, you will avenge ? Why did you not protect Inm, cowards ?" ^ Replies are hurled at him f.om every corner Had he not gagged Danton's defenders ^ Now thev we. gomg to avenge him! Now their tur: had shouts Robespierre, wuh one last cry of rage tyrl'i\ . ' '''' ^°^'' '-'-'^ - ^-g ^own a There is no more hope for Robespierre. Th,s interruption recalls the Convention to the danger that threatens them Th- . •, III. lutin. 1 ne turmoil ic r*. doubled. TaU,c„,fro™,he,ribune,whic ,:; no. ye. ,.,„ed ,e™,,ds of .he pre;ide„, ,ha trauor s arrest be put to the vote. " To the vote I To thp v/^^« 1 '■ l the Hall. °'' '^''^^'^ ^^^°"gJ^ But suddenly an unexpected incident attracts general attention. circle-'^urr'".""' '" *'^ ^^"^^^ °^ ^he semi- crcle. 'I demand to share my brother's fate, as I have stnven to share his nobler Jeeds " It ^s Augustin Robespierre, who had returned to Pans the day before, and, acting on a generous ^9 rJ If: r''>\ I i\\U t^'Ml : 1 i-S 1 ■ ' k M ' '" i Hi ii Robespierre 290 impulse, thus offers the sacrifice of his lite, a sacri- fice that is accepted out of hand. " The arrest of the brothers Robespierre ! " " And mine ! " calls out Lebas proudly, joining the two. " And Saint-Just ! " cries a voice. "And Couihon ! " " To the vote ! To the vote ! " The president has risen. He will put these arrests to the vote when silence is restored. " Silence for the voting ! Silence ! " " Every one to his seat ! " The deputies take their respective places. Then in the deep and awful silence which follows, under the strained gaze of the mob in the gallery, the president speaks — " Citoyens^ I put to the vote, by standing and sitting, the arrest of Maximilien Robespierre, of Augustin Robespierre, of Couthon, of Saint-Jujl, and of Lebas. Let those who vote for these arrests stand up." A hundred deputies rise. They are those of the In'^ Hintain. i^, ". e 'le mt:n of the Plain remain motionless, a ray oi . 'pc rbeers Robespierre's despair. Slit ' Ue centre 1 -^mscs to vote for his arrest, they must be, surely, on his side. " Oh, ye at least, righteous men of the Plain ! " he pleads. Those of the Plain start, draw themselves up, then A Broken Idol those of the . ^ ^^ ^'•'•ests arc unanimously voted. Kobcspierrc is Inef u m. p,,,,. ,„„ „,„^ ^ ^ n«s l,v.d w.,h rage, and .hrus.s ,hcm aside 1 he President sees this. " Robespierre refuses to obev ' U.h^rc n- u gendarmes ! " ^ " '^^''^ "^^ '" ^^e The whole assembly echo his words, and shout- "Tl,e gendarmes- Bring in the gendarmes -' The spectators in the gallery rise in their excite ment and jom in the general clamour '^ve/aLii:r^S/ Fl^e la Llbert'e > '> "Liberty, indeed! She is no more 1 Th .nunrphof.„osen.ffiansisherdeathCH- accused L';"';":" """'• ^^^^^ — "^ =he accused, and push them towards the dcor R„k P-re walics with head erect, and ^f Jde; ari t •-een tv.o gendarmes. He dees not even" st a gla.ce on the crowd who had hailed his en rite w. lou cheers, and who now his. and hoc. „, T e p M.e are escending and mix with the de ui ties. The whole floor is crowded Th, <- .lon-hal, where a loud, mcessantll;;,":;:,^:; ri=rE<:3C!S3!»e8=E 292 Robespierre can be heard, resembles a gigantic beehive, for no single voice is distinguishable in the tempestuous clamour that follows that solemn act ai last accomplished. A cry rises above the universal hum: " Long live the Convention ! " but is instantaneously succeeded by another more mighty and prevailing shout : " Long live the Republic ! " Meanwhile the accused have dis-ippeared. CHAPTER XIV THE KNELL OF THE TOCSIN Urbain, who had witnessed Robespierre's signal defeat and downfall from a scat in the gallery,''ran immediately to the Rue du Martroy, to warn Clarisse and Therbe that their retreat at the Hotel de Ville was no longer safe or secure. The man found Clarisse in the drawing-room. At the announcement of the fearful news, the mother's first thought v , for her son. " Then Olivier is lost ! " she cried. In Robespierre lay her only hope, for Robespierre alone could tear him from the grasp of the Com- mittee. Now that Robespierre was vanquished and powerless, what would become of Olivier } Urbain though he himself felt apprehensive, tried to reassure' Clarisse, and at this moment Therese entered the room. She had heard all \ What ! Robespierre ? Their safety, Olivier's safety, was in the hands of Robespierre! She came forward, and asked in amazement — "What! the man that was here yesterday, our protector, was — " « Yes, it was he ! " answered Clarisse, through her tears, "your grandfather's former secretarv." 294 Robespierre 1 1 As Therese, still trembling from the shock of hearing that name, was about to answer, Clarisse added hastily — "Hush,child! Forgetall hispast,andthinkof him only as he was yesterday ! He is now vanquished and fallen, and with him, alas! falls our last hope !" Therese, putting aside her own fears before her aunt'i- nncontrollable grief, mastered her emotion and drove back the tears which rose to her eyes, to dry those of Clarisse, speaking words of comfort and hope vhich she herself could not feel. " Do not give way to despair, mother ! God will watch over us. . . . We have implored Him so much ! " Urbain also tried to comfort her by promising to keep her informed of whatever happened. There was some talk of an insurrection of the Commune, he told her, of an attack on the Convention by an armed force, headed by Coffinhal, who was entirelv devoted to Robespierre. Who could tell whether the Incorruptible's vengeance might not be brood- ing ! Once rescued, he would again be all-powerful, and change the face of affairs ! " With him, one never knows what may happen! " continued Urbain hopefully. « He has so many resources, and he is, besides, so popular ! " Clarisse, worn out with grief, was, of necessity, resigned. " May God's will be done ! " she sighed. « I shall wait for you here." i 1 the shock of swer, Clarisse idthinkof him )w vanquished r last hope ! " irs before her her emotion ) her eyes, to f comfort and r ! God will 3 red Him so promising to ned. There e Commune, '^ention by an was entirely tell whether ot be brood- all-powerful, ay happen! " as so I " many 3f necessity, sighed. " I The Knell of the Tocsin 295 Urbain left them, and the two women knelt in prayer. The storm which had hung threateningly over Paris all day now burst out. Night had just set in when streaks of lurid light shot through the dark- ness, heralding a thunder-storm. Suddenly the sound of a bell was heard. It j^rew louder and louder, pealing a signal of alarm. Clarisse had risen and stood erect and pale. « The tocsin ! " she gasped, and then ran to the window, followed by Thcrcsc. Troops could be discerned in the distance, bran- dishing pikes and guns. A shout reached the two women — " Down with the Convention ! " Other cries were raised. " Call out the Sections ! Call out the Sections ! Long live the Incorruptible ! " The roll of drums was heard. They were beat- ing to arms! Horsemen galloped past in great disorder. Beyond doubt it was an insurrection ! Then some one knocked, and the two women turned. " Come in ! " cried Clarisse. Urbain appeared, breathless and bathed in per- spiration. " I told you so ! Robespierre has been rescued I " " Rescued ! " exclaimed both women, unable to conceal their joy. " Yes ! rescued on the way to the Conciergcric, WHBjlgg ! 296 Robespierre Hi and earned in triumph to the Hotel de Ville, where he now is, with his brother and his friends, Lebas, Couthon, and Saint-Just, rescued with him ! It is war to the knife between the Communes and the Convention. Both parties are arming. Coffinhal has had to fall back on the Hotel de Ville." The cries outside grew louder and nearer, while the tocsin still rang out, "To arms' To arms' Long live the In- corruptible ! " "Do you hear? They are stirring up the Sections I They will make a new attack on the Tuileries .' " " And what is to become of us ? " asked Clarisse " and of my son ? " ' "I don't know about your son. But Citoyen Robespierre has thought of you two. It was he who has sent me." "To tell us .? . . ." " To tell you that you are no longer safe here The street is guarded by sectioners. They might come up here at any moment to fire from the win- dows in case of attack. I have orders to conduct you to the Hotel de Ville, where Citoyen Robes- pierre has provided for your safety, but he wishes to see you first. You must wait for him in the ante- chamber of the Commune's Council Hall, where he ^ at this moment conferring with his colleagues He will jom you as soon as he is at liberty; you have only to follow me. This room communicates The Knell of the Tocsin 297 dir«._ly through a corridor vvfth the Hotel de Therfese by the hand, she followed the man. ..rL '*\'"™'=" "°«^J ^ »"i>e of rooms and orndors where ofBcials came and went in hot haste. Urba,n led the way, turning now and then o d,rect them angh.. Presently he stopped and said, pointmg to a door — " It is in here ! " and he opened it. Clarisse and Ther^se now found themselves in a room decorated with Revolutionary emblems, the wal s covered with a greenish paper. Two candle- sticks stood on the mantelpiece. " I. was here Citoyen Robespierre told me to bid you wait He is in the ne« room attending a meeti.ng in the Commune's Council Hall " Whilst he spoke Urbain indicated a door, a littlc 7 ™r. !' '"^ ^'''"' '^= •"" >™- " l.ad entered behind which a confused murmur of voic was audible. ^^- I will go and let him know you are here," he The two women were now alone. Clarisse cast a hasty glance round, The apartment was very plainly furn.shed ; in fact, almost void of furniture Agamst a panelling between two doors on .he left was a raised platform, on which stood a large cod per-embossed table. At the foot of the pltform were a couple of chairs and an armchair, the on" ^PM; 298 Robespierre other furniture of a room which had all the gloomy appearance of a deserted vestibule. Just then a flash of lightning ran round the apartment. The two women turned. A bust rep- resenting the Republic appeared in the vivid and sudden light, ghastly amid the surrounding darkness, while a trophy surmounting the bust seemed to emit sparks of fire. An awful thunder-clap burst on their ears, and screams and cries reached them through the two windows. Clarisse and Therese, taking each other by the hand, tremblingly looked out to see what was happening, and Clarisse recog- nised the Place de la Gvlive. A large crowd, sectioners and populace, swarmed in the square. Cannons were being rolled hither and thither amidst a brandishing of pikes, guns, bayonets, and flags — all the noise and bustle of war and riot mingling with the roar of thunder and the flash of lightning. " Come from the dreadful sight ! " said Clarisse, pulling Thd'resc gently away. At that moment a door opened, and as the two women turned Robespierre appeared, attended by Urbain. The Incorruptible bore unmistakable marks of the anguish of that extraordinary day on his haggard and sunken face. " Let us sit down ! " he said, " I am worn out !" and going towards a chair he sank down on it, wip- ing great beads of perspiration from his brow. Then he turned to Urbain. all the gloomy ran round the 1. A bust rep- thc vivid and inding darkness, seemed to emit -clap burst on reached them 2 and Therese, Tiblingly looked Clarisse recog- )ulace, swarmed ig rolled hither of pikes, guns, and bustle of of thunder and " said Clarisse, nd as the two d, attended by unmistakable irdinary day on im worn out ! " )wn on it, wip- om his brow. ' The Knell of the Tocsin 299 " Open the window, it is stifling ' " ^^ He raised his eyes to Clarisse, who was standing " Excuse me . . but I am almost broken down ;/ '. ^r' ".r' ' • • ^^^' ^his chair . . . Urbam has told you how things have gone with Th4 I T' '"'^^'■^^' seating herself, whilst Thdr^se standmg by her side, examined with mixed feelmgs the face of the man whose terrible name she had so lately learnt. A painful silence ensued. Clarisse, who burned to question him about Olivier, hesitated in view of the utter prostration of the man before her, whose own head was now at stake, but Robespierre divined her thoughts. "You are thinking of your son ? " he said. " Yes, my son ! Where is he ? " "Alas! I know nothing!" answered Robes- pier re. Then, in a fainting voice, he told her of his use- less inquiries a: the Conciergerie, of the conspiracy of the Committee of Public Safety, who kept Olivier hidden away — where he did not know. " Had I won the day at the Convention I should have delivered him _ but now. . . ." Clarisse had risen in new terror. Was her martyrdom to recommence? But Robespierre reassured her. He might yet be victorious in the struggle between the Communes and the Conven- tT 300 Robespierre \Ai tion. Once master of the Assembly, master of the Committee, he could save Olivier. " But if . . . but if you should not succeed ? " asked Clarisse, allowing her mother's heart to over- come her, " He will be saved all the same ! His onU- crime was that he insulted me. At my fall he will be looked upon as a hero. He will be restored to you both ... to you both," hr repeated gently, looking at Th6rese the while. " Give me your hand, my child, and do not let it tremble in mine. . . . It is on your youthful love I shall have smiled for the last time. . . ." Clarisse, deeply moved by the scene, tried to sperk, but Robespierre interrupted her — " In the meantime you must not stay here. . . . You must remain in the room by which you entered. . . Urbain will fetch you as soon as we have started for the Tuileries, and will take you to a safe retreat, where you will await the course of events. . . If I am vanquished again you are also free. . . ." And looking at them sadly he added — " For are not you also my victims ? " Clarisse, touched with pity, stopped him and spoke words of consolation. Why should he talk as if everything were lost ! Alas ! Everything was nearly lost ! He had been persuaded to hasten the attack on the Conven- tion. It was a trap that had been set in vengeance. ^-i ly, master of the I not succeed ? " r's heart to over- ame ! His onlv At my fall he z will be restored repeated gently, I, and do not let Dur youthful love scene, tried to her — not stay here, m by which you 1 as soon as we will take you to lit the course of i;ain vou are also ded — is ? " topped him and y should he talk lost ! He had : on the Conven- set in vengeance. The Knell of the Tocsin 301 " But by whom ? " asked Clarisse. « By the dead ! " Clarisse and Thvrese were startled. " The dead ? " " Yes ... But you cannot understand . . ." Robespierre looked straight before him as if following the train of some fleeting thought. . , . Suddenly he ro'.e. " Enough of that, however. Let us think of your safety." He then beckoned to Urbain, who advanced. "Conduct the citoyennes to the next room, and do as I have already instructed you ! " Loud cries and calls from the Commune's Coun- cil Hall, resounded through the open door. " Go quickly ! My friends are coming ! " said Robespierre, as he hastened the departure of the two women, conducting them to the threshold of the antechamber. But his friends, Lebas, Augustin Robespierre, Saint-Just, Couthon, Fleuriot-Lescot, Coffinhal, Payan, Dumas, were now entering, shut- ting the door sharply behind them, in a great flurry in their impatience to be alone. " This is hardly the moment to dally with women ! " exclaimed one of them in irritation. It was Coffinhal, vice-president of the Revolutionary Tribunal, and one of the most ardent promoters of the insurrection. Robespierre replied in a weary tone — " For God's s^.ke, have not I the right to be a man i " and he sank into an armchair. II i>F llll!! i'i 1 f' 1 ' f % 1 ^ 1 i ' ■ ( ' i ' - , F ■ r M '' i f ;: , i : .S , lir 1 ILii ■ 1 ■li i ■I :f Robespierre Just then the door opened again. A group of patriots entered in great excitement, speaking at the top of their voices, and gesticulatiiig wildly. They immediately surrounded Robespierre. What was to be done ? they asked. Were they to march on the Tuileries ? If the attack were put ofF any longer the Convention would take the offensive. • • . Every moment was precious ! It was really ridiculous to beat to arms and ring the tocsin, and then waste time discussing all night long I What were they waiting for, and for whom .? Sonie of the patriots approached the windows. The howling crowd which, a few minutes ago swarmed in the Place de la Greve, had perceptibt thinned. •^ r / Robespierre remained seated, silently wiping his brow, irritated beyond measure by all this needless commotion. At last out of all patience, he started up. . . . What prevented him from marching for- ward .? What was he waiting for ? Waiting I He was purely and simply waiting for Paris, the whole of Pans, which at the voice of his friends, must rise m his defence ! Had they come ? Yes, they had come . . and gone again, too! He had only to look out on the square to convince himself of It The groups round the windows gave signs of assent. ^ "They have grown tired of waiting," said rIeuriot-Lescot. The Knell of the Tocsin 303 " And it is their supper-time," observed the In- corruptible, with a bitter smile as he sat down again. The sky was suddenly overclouded, and rain poi'.red down in torrents. "That will help to empty the square ! " observed Robespierre. The patriots now leant out of the windows trying to call back those who were running to escape the shovvei . " Hallo, there ! Wait a while I Where are you running to, cowards? Everything is ready for the onsft ! " Lebas, who had also approached one of the vi'indows, stood back discouraged. " They are deserting us by hundreds ! " he ex- claimed. The patriots again eagerly pressed Robespierre. There was all the more reason for them to march on the Tuileries at once. "Decide, for goodness' sake!" said Coffinhal ; " enough time has been lost already ! " Robespierre rose from his seat, and answered wearily — « Very well ! let us go ! And God grant that the defenders of the Convention be as valiant as ours ! " he added in bitter sarcasm. "Before starting," suggested Payan, "you had better sign this last proclamation. It will serve to rouse the sectioncrs of the Pignes Quarter." 304 Robespierre " Very well ! Ci'vc it to nie ! " Lcbus handed him a pen. Robespierre wrote the first letters of his name, Rob. . . . He stopped suddenly. A distant sound, as of a trumpet-call, rang out in fearful warning. They look at each other anxiously. What could it be ? A man ran in upon them, in breathless haste. It was Didier, Robespierre's agent. " The attack ! " he panted. " The troops of the Convention are coming upon us, led Dy Barras ! " " But what docs it all mean ? " ti. y cried wildly. " What has happened ? " There was not a moment to lose ! The assailants were advancing in double column ; Leonard Bourdon reading by the light of the torches the decree of the Convention declaring the insurgents outlaws. Yes, outlaws ! Anybody was at liberty to fire on them ! " But the people," asked Lebas, " the people are with us ? " No ! the people were no longer with the insur- gents. They had turned back, and were following the assailants with loud cheers. Robespierre and his friends could even then hear their deafening shouts and threats. " Hark ! Do you hear them ? " said Didier. " They are on the quay ! " Now followed a regular panic. The maddest proposals succeeded each other. They ought to ■I ; Hi- The Knell of the Tocsin 305 i of his name, sound, as of a ariiing. They could it be ? iless haste. It le troops of the Dy Barras ! " •y cried wildly. The assailants :onard Bourdon the decree of •gents outlaws, erty to fire on the people are vith the insur- were following .obespierre and :heir deafening ' said Didier. The maddest rhey ought to fall back on to the Faubourcr ' said or.e. the arsenal No, to suggested anothei Hut Robespierre resolutely and auth rposcd — orltatively intcrj " It would be absolute madness ! Prepare your- selves for the fight! Get fhe guns ready. The.e are artillerymen enough ii the square to shoot them all down." " Yes ! That is the best plan ! The Incorrupt- ible is right." Coffinhal ran to the window to give a si"^nal to the gunners. A loud cry of « Long li^'ve the Republic ! " answered him. Robespierre recom- mended prudence to Coffinhal. He n.ust instruct the gunners to let the enemy first reach the square, and then at close quarters fire on them, while Bourdon would be reading the decree. Every one approved this plan, and the order was repeated to Coffinhal. Prudence and self-possession were necessary. Didier, on being questioned, as- sured them that the cannon still commanded the square. They were a match for any assailants ! Robespierre continued to give orders. The patriots in the next room, the General Council Chamber, must be informed of the plan. Lebaswent to open the door, but started back on the threshold. " The room is empty ! " he cried. " The cowards ! they have fled ' " They looked at each other in dumb amazement. The men on watch at the windows now announced 20 a I 06 Robespierre J[1M that the assailants were in sight. They could discern the gleam of torches, but the gunners had not moved. Again that brazen trumpet-call fell ominously on their ears, accompanied by the low rumbling of dis- tant thunder. A sudden roll of drums burst out, and then all was hushed. The sound of a voice, coming up from the square in solemn, measured tones, broke upon the silence. " In the name of the French Republic, the National Convention decrees Robespierre and all those who have taken part in the rebellion to be out of law." A vague, indistinct murmur now arose from the square. The voice continued with startling resonance — " CItoyens ! the Convention command you to make way for us ! " Robespierre and his friends were leaning out of the windows breathless with suspense, their eyes fastened on the artillery. " V/hy don't they fire ? " said Coffinhal. Robespierre leant on a bar of the window, his hands clenched over it, his face pale, perspiration trickling down his forehead. " Can't you fire at them, you dolts ! " Ah ! they were getting their guns ready ; they would fire now ! There was a sudden movement of relief and hopefulness that lasted only for a moment and then gave place to horror. could discern d not moved, ominously on ibling of dis- is burst out, I of a voice, in, measured Lepublic, the erre and all )ellion to be )se from the resonance — and you to ming out of , their eyes ^al. vv^indow, his perspiration ready ; they :' relief and aqment and The Knell of the Tocsin 307 The sectioners had turned their cannon against the Hotel de Ville ! One cry, the despairing cry of the vanquished, echoed through the room. " We are betrayed ! Sauve qui pent ! " Then followed an indescribable scene of panic. All was irreparably lost. Defeat, merciless and sanguinary, stared them in the face. Cries and shouts came up from the square, but one cry rose above all. " En avani ! f'orward ' " Drums beat the charge. Some ran to ihe doors, others to the windows to get upon the roof. Augustin Robespierre already on the ledge of one of the windows, prepared to escape by the cornice. His foot slipped and he fell on to the pavement amidst derisive shouts. " They shall not have me alive ! " cried Lebas, drawing two pistols from his belt j and he placed one on the table near Robespierre, who had fallen prostrate on a chair. "That is for you, Robespierre' Adieu!" and he rushed out. Robespierre looked at the pistol, and pushed it aside with an expression of utter weariness. " Why should I ? Let death come as it pleases ! " Just then a dour opened and Clarisse, breathless with fear, rushed in, clasping Therese tightly by the hand. Fearful and threatening sounds entered with her through the open door. if ■ p 30B Robespierre Robespierre turned and saw her. " Unhappy woman ! Not gone yet ! " Almost mad with terror, she told him that they could not escape, the assailants were at their heels. Robespierre wildly seized the pistol from the table and pointed to the other exit, « Fly that way ! I will kill the first to ^ain time I " Clarisse dragged Thertse towards the door, but recoiled with a terrified shriek. Loud shouts were heard coming that way. Robespierre rushed for- ward and pushed them towards another door opposite. " This way, then ! Fly ! for pity's sake, fly ! " Clarisse and Therese crossed over to the other exit. But through the door they had just left a fearful cry entered, and nailed them to the spot. " This way ! Follow me ! " It was Olivier's voice ! Robespierre recognised it also, and was struck dumb with I jrror ! All three fastened their eyes on the door in agonised suspense. Olivier, all dishevelled, his clothes in disorder, appeared on the threshold. Hk eyes met Robes- pierre's, who was standing near the platform. He rushed on him, pistol in his hand, exclaiming — " Ah ! villain. You will kill no one else, now ! " and was about to fire, but Clarisse threw herself on him, and held his arm. " Oh I you, Olivier ' you of all the world ! Oh ! horror ' " And she tore the pistol from his grasp and flung I " lim that they t their heels, ol from the first to gain he door, but shouts were rushed for- oor opposite. sake, fly ! " to the other just left a he spot. recognised it I All three ed suspense, in disorder, met Robes- tform. He ning — else, now ! " / herself on orld ! Oh ! p and flung The Knell of the Tocsin 309 it away. He looked first at her, then at Thcrcso, bewildered at their presence. Robespierre, still grasping his pistol, silently watched the scene. His son's act was his death-blow. Deliberately he turned the muzzle of the weapon towards himself. " I shall kill no one else ... but myself! " he sighed, and with the word he pulled the trigger and fell wounded on the steps of the platform. The bullet had broken his jaw. Clarisse, beside herself at this double shock, rushed to Robespierre's side and attempted to staunch the blood flowing from his wound. As he fell, some drops of blood splashed on the half-signed proclama- tion, and added a ghastly flourish to the initial letters R . . . o . . . b . . . Therese, standing near Olivier, was weeping bit- terly and telling him of the efl="orts Robespierre had made to save them all. " He .? " cried Olivier, still incredulous. The room filled rapidly from every side with the assailants armed with pikes, swords, knives, and muskets. They rushed in, screaming and shouting " Victory ! Victory ! " But all drew back on sce*^ ing Robespierre stretched on the ground, bathed in blood. A national representative ran to the window and announced the news to the crowd swarming in the Place de la Grhvc. " Cltoyem f the tyrant has shot himself ! The tyrant has forestalled the law ! Long live the Con- vention ! " I'll; 310 Robespierre Cries of " Long live the Convention ! " re-echoed from the square, and were taken up and repeated from afar, till they gradually died in the distance. Robespierre, raising himself with Clarisse's aid, looked around for Olivier and Therese amono- the crowd. " At all events, the child is saved and you also," he said. ..." Let me not pass away without your forgiveness ! " " Oh yes ! I forgive you ! " Clarisse murmured amidst her tears. " I thank you ! " he answered feebly, and fell back fainting. A rough, commanding voice broke in on Clarisse's grief. "Take him up!" Clarisse still remained, kneeling, but they pushed her aside. " Now then ! Get out of the way ! " She rose vMth difficulty, every limb trembling, and escaped from the crowd with Therbse and Oli- vier through an open door. Some men advanced to carry Robespierre away, who looked already like a corpse, with his eyes closed, and the blood gushing through his lips. One man held his head, another his legs, and thus the ghastly burden was carried through the crowd of assailants, who stood aside to make way for it. Clarisse, standing in one oi the doorways as the gloomy procession passed, clung to her son, imploring his pity. The Knell of the Tocsin 31 1 ! " re-echoed and repeated ; distance. ITlarisse's aid, e among the d you also," without your >e murmured bly, and fell on Clarisse's they pushed b trembling, -se and Oli- advanced to Iready like a lood gushing lead, another was carried ood aside to n one oi the ;ed, clung to " Oh ! pardon him ! Do you too pardon him ! I beg you, pardon him ! " " Make room for the Incorruptible ! " shouted a voice in ribald mockery. They shrunk back, but Clarisse all the while passionately entreated her son to pardon Robespierre. " Oh, hear me, my son, I implore you ' Say that you forgive him ! " " Yes, mother, I forgive him, and may God have mercy on him ! " Olivier murmured, casting a long look after the grim procession till it was losi to sight. Olivier then turned to his mother and his Jiancee. " Now, let us get away from here ! " he says. " Is it really true ? Are you free .? " asked Clarisse. " Yes, quite rrce ! I will tell you all about it presently. But we must secure a passport if we want to leave Paris. . . . Let us make haste ! " The two women passed out under Olivier's pro- tection, and descended the Hotel de Ville's grand staircase through the crov/d, which followed fallen Robespierre with cries of " Victory ! Victoi ' " « :* CHAPTER XV death's kindly veil Robespierre has thus been vanquished for the second time ! Where will they take him ? To the Tuileries, to the Convention, into the very midst of the vic- torious National Assembly, where the dying despot is to be exposed to the raillery of the populace, before being carried to the scaffold. Robespierre is' laid down in the courtyard of the Hotel dc Villc, and placed with infinite care on a litter. They lift his head and bind up his wound, for he must live long enough to receive the final retribution. The bullet has but half robbed the scaffold of its prey. Artillerymen now come forward, and take him up again, but Robespierre, still unconscious, knows nothing of what is passing round him. They lift the wreck of what was once the Incorruptible and continue their way. Saint-Just walks in the rear between two gendarmes, his hands bound behind him, very oale, with head erect, and perfectly indif- ferent to the insults hurled at him —the only one of his allies who is with Robespierre in the hour of defeat. The others are either dead, hidden or hn led for the ■ Tuilcries, of the vic- ^^ing despot populace, bespierre is rl dc Villc, They lift must live ion. The its prey. take him )us, knows They lift iptible and 1 the rear nd behind ctly indif- only one the hour hidden or Death's Kindly Veil 313 fled. But their turn will come, for hot search is afoot for the cowards and fugitives. The gloomy cortl'ge crosses the Place de la Grbvc, and moves in the direction of the quay, on its way to the Tuileries, beneath a cloudless slcy that smiles after the rain, as the stars are gradually effaced by the first gleams of dawn. It is three o'clock. The cortege is followed by a curious and gaping crowd. Fassers-by stop and ask, " What is it ? " « Robespierre, who is wounded. They are taking him to the Convention." Then the inquirers' faces light up with joy. "It is all over, then ! . . . The tyrant is' going to die ! . . . There will be no more scaffold ! " And the passers-by joined the crowd. But at the Convention the order had been given that the " monster" was not to be received. Even a captive and almost a corpse, they will not allow Robespierre again to cross the threshold, once he has been banished from their midst. The Incor- ruptible, as an outlaw, belongs to justice only. So the wounded man is taken up and laid at the foot of the grand staircase leading to the Committee of Public Safety. There, on the very spot where, two days before, Robespierre, returning from the Conciergerie, hurled defiance at Billaud-Varennes, he new lies on a litter, vanquished, ruined, gasping out his life! A peremptory order is given, and flies from mouth to mouth. Robespierre is to be transported to the * t Tt 3H Robespierre Committee's waiting-room. Saint-Just walks in front now, with Dumas, President of the Revolu- tionary Tribunal, who has been discovered hidden in a corner of the Hotel de Ville, and several others whose arrest and arrival is also announced. The litter is carried into the room. Robespierre still unconscious is lifted out and laid on a table, and his head is pillowed on a deal box, containing samples of munition bread. His shirt, loosened at the neck, and leaving the throat bare, is covered with blood which still flows freely from the muti- lated jaw. The sky-blue coat is soiled and torn, the nankeen breeches, the white stockings, washed and ironed by Cornelie Duplay, are now all stained and disfigured. The Incorruptible is a mutilated mass, but a living mass, still breathing and still suffering. Robespierre has opened his eyes j he raises his right hand, groping instinctively for his handkerchief, wishing to wipe his mouth. His trembling fingers come in contact with a white leather pistol-case, which he lifts to his lips to staunch the blood. By an irony of fate the case bears the inscription — " The Great Monarch ; Lecourt^ manufacturer to the Ktngr Robespierre appears to revive. He looks round, and his eyes fall on Saint-Just and Dumas, side by side in the recess of one of the windows, shrugging their shoulders at the rudeness of the people who pass through the room and stare at them as if they 111 ist walks in f the Revolu- ered hidden in several others iced. Robespierre >n 3 table, and X, containing t, loosened at re, is covered om the muti- and torn, the >, washed and 11 stained and mass, but a Fering. he raises his handkerchief, nbling fingers r pistol-case, ? blood. By inscription — • acturer to the looks round, jmas, side by ivs, shrugging I people who m as if they Death's Kindly Veil 315 were curiosities. The insults are now directed against Robespierre, who turns away: "There is fallen majesty for you!" exclaims one. . . . " Majesty laid low," says another. ..." With his bandages he looks like a mummy or a nun ! " . . . " Yes, a nun with her head-gear awry !"..." He is thinking of his Supreme Being ! It 's just the right moment ! " But Robespierre, under this railing clamour and abuse, does not stir. There he lies, stretched out motionless, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, the verv embodiment of silent scorn. Slowly and without a word, he drinks the cup of bitterness; he will drink -'t so, to the very dregs. A conqueror, he would have been to them a god; vanquished, they nail him to the pillory. Such is the constant perfidy of human nature ! And yet he had been so near suc- cess, so near ! If the Convention had not proved so cowardly at the sitting, had not succumbed directly before Tallien's attack! ... If they had but let him speak ! If they had allowed him to de- fend himself But the plot had been too well laid. Then Robespierre's thoughts wander to the other wretches, the Communes, the cowards on whom he had counted, the vile traitors and base deserters ! His bitter meditations are suddenly cut short by a shooting pain in the knee, which runs through him like a knife. It is his garter, which is too tightly drawn. He raises himself and stretches out his hand to undo it, but his strength fails, and he falls 3i6 Robespierre f ;•! hack again. Suddenly he feels some one gently loosening it. He lifts himself again and bends for- ward. Can he be dreaming? That young man . . . yes, it is Olivier! . . . Olivier, himself ! " Oh, thank you, my . . . thank you, my . . . thank you, monsieur I " he says hastily. He is on the point of saying, " my son ! " but has strength enough left to recollect himself. No ! Olivier must never know the secret of his birth, never, never! Robespierre falls back again. The emotion is too much for him, and he faints away. Yes, it is Olivier, who has just obtained from the Committee a passport for his mother, his fiancee^ and himself. Crossing the waiting-room he had seen Robespierre stretched out on the table in front of him. Touched with pity at his vain and painful attempts to undo the garter, he had come to his assistance. Olivier now leaves the Committee of Public Safety to rejoin Clarisse and Th^rese, who are wait- ing for him in the Tuileries Gardens, and overcome with fatigue have sat down on a bench, and seeing them in the distance hastens his steps. " I have the passport ! " he exclaims. " Then let us go, and lose no time ! " Clarisse answers ; " let us return to Montmorency, at once ! I long to leave the city of woe and misery." " We cannot go yet," replies Olivier. " The passport must bear the stamp of the Committee of e one gently nd bends for- t young man himself! /ou, my . . . y son ! " but imself. No ! of his birth, 2 emotion is ned from the , his fiancee^ oom he had able in front and painful come to his e of Public ^ho are wait- nd overcome I, and seeing ' ! " Clarisse cy, at once ! ier. " The 'ommittee of Death's Kindly Veil General Security to be of any use, and I must pre- sent myself before the Committee at three o'clock." "Then, what are we to do? Where shall we go ? " asks Clarisse wearily. "We can only go tu the Rue du Rocher, to Leonarl's landl.idy. She will receive me with open arms, you will see, now vhe has no longer Robes- pierre to fear." It is five oV'ock, and day has just dawned. The air is soft and fresh, tl^.c sky above of sapphire blue; the tree., the streets, the very houses, seem smding with renewed life, after the refreshing shower. In this brightening dawn Robespierre is being taken to the Concicrgerie, for the Committee o^' Public Safety have altered their decision. Robes- pierre and his accomplices, now found and arrested, are to be confined in the Conciergerie in order to undergo the formality of identification. From thence they are to be taken to the scaftbld without trial or judgment, as outlaws. So Robespierre is replaced on the litter, followed by the gaping crowd. He sleeps the whole way, lulled by the measured tread of the men who carry him, and only awakes to find himself in a narrow cell, in charge of a gendarme. " Can I write ? " he asks. " No ! " " Where am 1 ? " " At the Conciergrerie." .-^iS Robespierre ill His eyes flash for a second. He looks round uneasily and repeats — " At the Conciergerie ! In what part of tiie Conciergerie ? " " Between the (Queen's cell and the Girondins' Chapel." Between his victims ! He is between his vic- tims ! The fearful warning on the prison walk passes again before his eyes : " Robespierre, your hour will come! . . ." The dead were right! If he had done away with the guillotine in time, he would perhaps not be there, himself a victim of the Terror he had let loose ! Bui he could not ! No, he could not, it was too soon. . . . He would have been engulfed in the turmoil, just the same! ... In continuing the Revolutionary Tribunal, in keeping the executioner at hit, post, he was merely protecting his own head ' His mind is flooded with ideas. ... He is dreaming vaguely, his dim eyes fixed on the low ceiling of his cell. . . . His youth -miles at him through the mist of years, every detail of the past comes back to him in clear and lucid vision. He sees Clarisse seated at her harpsichord, he is turning over the leaves of her music . . . but the vision trembles, and then fades away. Fe- ver gradually rises to his brain, takes entire posses- sion of him, and deadens his senses, so that he is completely unconscious, and when Fouquier-Tin- ville, his creature of the Revolutionary Tribunal, his accomplice in the days of bloodshed, comes Death's Kindly Veil le Girondins' forward to identify him, he does not recognise his voice. ° The end is now approaching. At five ii, the afternoon the gendarmes con,c to conduct Robes- P>erre to the scaffold. The Convention has de- creed that tor this occasion the guillotine shall be erected at the Place dc la Revolution. Robespierre IS borne on the litter through the crowd of piico„ers the v.ctims of his hatred and his laws, and when the' dying man has passed the threshold they breathe again. With him death departs and new life comes in. The tumbril is waiting in th. courtyard, sur- rounded by a crowd of. ./,,,. ^ ,„d M^,^j and hundreds of spectator, eager to witness the startling spectacle, are swa.ming in the streets to hoot and abuse Robe.pierre as heartily as they had cheered and applaud-d him at the Fete of the Su preme Being I To effect this startling change one bitting of the ( ^onvention has sufficed ' Robespierre ,s now in sight. This is the signal for the wildest uproar. He is seated on a bench ixi the first tumbril, and fastened against the bars of the cart to keep him from falling. The fresh air has revived him ; he allows them to do as they please, looking on in silent scorn. Others of the condemned are placed in the same tumbril : Augustin Robespierre, Saint fust, Dumas the president, Hau- "ot, and Couthon. The two last are seated right and left of Robespierre, four other carts follow, 320 Robespierre equally loaded. The condemned number twenty- two in all. Now Robespierre's via dolorosa begins. Abuse and insults rain down on them in torrents, covering Robespierre and his accomplices with ignominy. The ghastly procession crosses the Pont-au- Change, the Quay de la Mdgisseric, and passing the Rue de la Monnaie it enters the Rue Saint- Honord. Curses are heard mingling with the shrieks of the rabble, for among the crowd there are many victims of the Terror, widows and orphans conjuring up the memory of all their anguish, all the drama of the guillotine, the work of the Incorruptible. A woman clutches at the tumbril in which Robes- pierre sits, a woman whose two children had been torn from her by the Prairial law. "Monster!" she cries, "vile monster! in the name of all mothers, I curse you to hell!" The crowd following the cortege grows denser as it proceeds. It is Dc:adi, the Republican Sunday. All Paris is out of doors. The windows and bal- conies are thronged with men and women in festal attire, pressing forward to see the procession file past, and showering down shouts of joy and triumph, for the passing of those tumbrils means also the' passing away of the reign of Terror. Robespierre continues his dreadful way, his eyes fixed and glassy, his f^ice wrapped in the bandage 1 number twenty- begins. I them in torrents, accomplices with ;es the Pont-au- erie, and passing the Rue Saint- the shrieks of the are many victims conjuring up the :he drama of the iptible. 1 in which Robes- hildren had been monster ! in the to hell ! " grows denser as publican Sunday, indows and bal- women in festal - procession file joy and triumph, means also the ror. jI way, his eyes in the bandage Death's Kindly Veil 32 i vvhich holds his jaw together, and partly hides it J.ke some ghast y mask, ^y his side sits Hauriot, livid and ternfied, covered with the mud and filth of the sewer mto which he had fallen. Couthon and Augustm Robespierre, pitifully mutilated, are lyin. at the bottom of the cart. Saint-Just alone standi erect h,s hands bound, and retains his scornful air The tumbrils enter the Rue Saint-Honor^ near the Jacob.n Club, where two days before the Incor- ruptable re.gned supreme. The martyrdom is not over They are before the house of the Duplays 1 ne cortege stops. ^ " At a given signal a child dips a broom in a pail of blood, and sprinkles the front door. "Ha! Robespierre, here is your cavern branded with the blood of your victims .'"cries a voice A planttve howl is heard from behind the blood- smeared door. It is Blount, who has scented his master. Robespierre shuts his eyes but it is use- iess, for he can hear ! People question each other in the crowd. Where are the Duplays ? In prison ! The father at Pless.s, the mother at Sainte-Pil.gie with her young son. Lebas has killed himself His body they have fled, most probably. But now for the guillotine ! The cortege continues its way, while the heart- rending moans of Blount can still be heard in the distance. T*— —".-■--- cry of the faithful d 21 og, recognising ..h 'i ■ 1 322 Robespierre his master and calling to him, is the last adieu to Robespierre from his recent home. The first tumbril is already at the top of the Rue Saint-Florentin. A man turns out of the street and runs in the direction of the Rue de lu Revolution. The crowd cry after him — " Hallo, there ! will you not see the Incorrup- tible's head cut off? Stop! stop! Don't be so chicken-hearted ' " But the man is already far away. It is Olivier, returning from the Committee of General Security, where he had at last succeeded in having his pass- port countersigned, after endless trouble. He tries to cross the Rue Saint-Honore, but the crowd fiUi the street ; so he retraces his steps, followed the Jardin des Tuileries, and reaches the Rue Saint- Florentin, at the very moment when the tumbrils are at hand. Away from them he hurries, towards the Rue de Rocher, where Clarisse and Thdrese are impatiently awaiting him in their room. The landlady, anxious to be taken back to favour, has been worrying them with officious attention since the morning. Olivier bursts in upon them eagerly — " It 's done ! Now we can start ! Is the car- riage ready ? " The widow Beaugrand is in despair. " Then you have decided to go ? Will you not wait until to-morrow ? I have such a nice supper prepared I " last adieu to Death's Kindly Veil 323 Olivier grows impatient. Clarisse and Th6r6se get ready to start. ,."!'lf"^^ll Everything i. arranged," ..ys th. landkdy. " The carriage has been ordered, a,!d IS just two steps from here." She hastens downstairs, followed bv Olivier and the two women, who wait outside. The street is deserted. The day melts m a soft twilight. Star. already twmkle in the cloudless sky. l' ht, happy laughte. comes from a balcony opposite, the echo of chdd,sh :• ...ment, which soon ceases with the closing ol , ji. The carriage has arrived, an open ch.r-^-t,,, with four seats. Olivier helps his mother and hi. jc^ncee m, then climbs up on the box beside the driver. ,J,T° ^^^^"^'"orency ! And take the shorten The carriage rolls away amidst the farewells and good wishes of the widow Beaugrand. However at the end of the Rue du Rocher it stops suddenly' and draws up to the side of the road. Two carts are coming at full gallop, driven by men in red nightcaps. Olivier asks impatiently — " What is the matter now ? " " It 's the dead bodies of the condemned, citoyen ; they are taking them to the Cemetery des Errancy. Ah I now, the Incorruptible can kill no more I " I he two women have heard ! Clarisse and Thf^-^-- f-n »_ . . 324 Robespierre harii clasped, and their eyes lifted in prayer. Olivier bares his head. The carts are passing. Clarisse and Therese make the sign of the cross. Olivier, pale with emotion, follows their example, turning towards The'rese and his mother, whose eyes dwell with strange emotion on his face. Her tear-din' med gaze is full of mute thanksgiving, the secret of which Olivier will never know. lifted in prayer, arts are passing, ign of the cross. vs their example, s mother, whose n his face. Her thanksgiving, the know.