Robespierre
After dark Harry presented himself at Louise Moulin's.
"Have you thought of anything, Harry?" was Jeanne's first question.
She was alone, for Louise was cooking, and Virginie had lain down
and cried herself to sleep.
"I have thought of a number of things," he replied, for while he
had been sitting by Victor's bedside he had turned over in his mind
every scheme by which he could get Marie out of prison, "but at
present I have fixed upon nothing. I cannot carry out our original
plan of seizing Marat. It would require more than one to carry
out such a scheme, and the friend whom I relied upon before can no
longer aid me."
"Who is it?" Jeanne asked quietly. "Is it Victor de Gisons?"
"What! Bless me, Jeanne!" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "How did
you guess that?"
"I felt sure it was Victor all along," the girl said. "In the first
place, I never believed that he had gone away. Marie told me she
had begged and prayed him to go, and that he had only gone to please
her. She seemed to think it was right he should go, but I didn't
think so. A gentleman would not run away and leave anyone he liked
behind, even if she told him. It was not likely. Why, here are
you staying here and risking your life for us, though we are not
related to you and have no claim upon you. And how could Victor
run away? But as Marie seemed pleased to think he was safe, I said
nothing; but I know, if he had gone, and some day they had been
married, I should never have looked upon him as a brother. But I
felt sure he wouldn't do it, and that he was in Paris still. Then,
again, you did not tell us the name of the friend who was working
with you, and I felt sure you must have some reason for your
silence. So, putting the two things together, I was sure that it
was Victor. What has happened to him? Is he in prison too?"
"No, he is not in prison, Jeanne," Harry said, "but he is very
ill." And he related the whole circumstances of Victor's fever.
"I blamed myself awfully at first for having hit him so hard, as
you may suppose, Jeanne; but the doctor says he thinks it made no
difference, and that Victor's delirium is due to the mental shock
and not in any way to the blow on the head. Still I should not like
your sister to know it. I am very glad you have guessed the truth,
for it is a comfort to talk things over with you."
"Poor Marie!" Jeanne said softly. "It is well she never knew about
it. The thought he had got safely away kept her up. And now, tell
me about your plans. Could I not take Victor's place and help you to
seize Marat? I am not strong, you know; but I could hold a knife,
and tell him I would kill him if he cried out. I don't think I
could, you know, but he wouldn't know that."
"I am afraid that wouldn't do, Jeanne," Harry said with a slight
smile, shaking his head. "It was a desperate enterprise for two of
us. Besides, it would never do for you to run the risk of being
separated from Virginie. Remember you are father and mother and
elder sister to her now. The next plan I thought of was to try and
get appointed as a warder in the prison, but that seems full of
difficulties, for I know no one who could get me such a berth, and
certainly they would not appoint a fellow at my age unless by some
extraordinary influence. Then I thought if I let out I was English
I might get arrested and lodged in the same prison, and might
help her to get out then. From what I hear, the prisoners are not
separated, but all live together."
"No, no, Harry," Jeanne exclaimed in a tone of sharp pain, "you
must not do that of all things. We have only you, and if you are
once in prison you might never get out again; besides, there are
lots of other prisons, and there is no reason why they should send
you to La Force rather than anywhere else. No, I will never consent
to that plan."
"I thought it seemed too doubtful myself," Harry said. "Of course,
if I knew that they would send me to La Force, I might risk it. I
could hide a file and a steel saw about me, and might cut through
the bars; but, as you say, there is no reason why they should send
me there rather than anywhere else. I would kill that villain who
arrested her--the scoundrel, after being a guest at the chateau!--but
I don't see that would do your sister any good, and would
probably end in my being shut up. The most hopeful plan seems to
me to try and bribe some of the warders. Some of them, no doubt,
would be glad enough to take money if they could see their way to
letting her out without fear of detection."
"But you know we thought of that before, Harry, and agreed it would
be a terrible risk to try it, for the very first man you spoke to
might turn round on you."
"Of course there is a certain risk, Jeanne, anyway. There is no
getting a prisoner out of La Force without running some sort of
risk; the thing is to fix on as safe a plan as we can. However, we
must think it out well before we do try. A failure would be fatal,
and I do not think there is any pressing danger just at present.
It is hardly likely there will be any repetition of the wholesale
work of the 2nd of September; and if they have anything like a trial
of the prisoners, there are such numbers of them, so many arrested
every day, that it may be a long time before they come to your
sister. I do not mean that we should trust to that, only that
there is time for us to make our plans properly. Have you thought
of anything?"
"I have thought of all sort of things since you left us this morning,
Harry, but they are like yours, just vague sort of schemes that
do not seem possible when you try to work them out. I do not know
whether they let you inside the prisons to sell everything to the
prisoners, because if they did I might go in with something and
see Marie, and find out how she could be got out."
Harry shook his head.
"I do not think anyone would be allowed in like that, but if they
did it would only be a few to whom the privilege would be granted."
"Yes, I thought of that, Harry; but one of them might be bribed
perhaps to let me take her place."
"It might be possible," Harry said, "but there would be a terrible
risk, and I don't think any advantage to compensate for it. Even if
you did get to her and spoke to her, we should still be no nearer
to getting her out. Still we mustn't be disheartened. We can hardly
expect to hit upon a scheme at once, and I don't think either of
our heads is very clear to-day; let us think it over quietly, and
perhaps some other idea may occur to one of us, I expect it will be
to you. Now, good-night; keep your courage up. I rely very much
upon you, Jeanne, and you don't know what a comfort it is to me that
you are calm and brave, and that I can talk things over to you. I
don't know what I should do if I had it all on my own shoulders."
Jeanne made no answer, but her eyes were full of tears as she put
her hands into Harry's, and no sound came from her lips in answer
to his good-night.
"That girl's a trump, and no mistake," Harry said to himself as
he descended the stairs. "She has got more pluck than most women,
and is as cool and calm as if she were twice her age. Most girls
would be quite knocked over if they were in her place. Her father
and mother murdered, her sister in the hands of these wretches,
and danger hanging over herself and Virginie! It isn't that she
doesn't feel it. I can see she does, quite as much, if not more,
than people who would sit down and howl and wring their hands. She
is a trump, Jeanne is, and no mistake. And now about Marie. She
must be got out somehow, but how? That is the question. I really
don't see any possible way except by bribing her guards, and
I haven't the least idea how to set about that. I think to-morrow
I will tell Jacques and his wife all about it; they may know some
of these men, though it isn't likely that they do; anyhow, three
heads are better than one."
Accordingly, next morning he took the kind-hearted couple into his
counsel. When they heard that the young lady who had been arrested
was the fiance of their sick lodger they were greatly interested,
but they shook their heads when he told them that he was determined
at all hazards to get her out of prison.
"It isn't the risk so much," Jacques said, "that I look at. Life
doesn't seem of much account in these days; but how could it be
done? Even if you made up your mind to be killed, I don't see that
would put her a bit nearer to getting out of prison; the place is
too strong to break into or to break out of."
"No, I don't think it is possible to succeed in that sort of way;
but if the men who have the keys of the corridors could be bribed,
and the guard at the gate put soundly to sleep by drugging their
drink, it might be managed."
Jacques looked sharply at Harry to see if he was in earnest, and
seeing that he was so, said drily:
"Yes, if we could do those things we should, no doubt, see our way;
but how could it be managed?"
"That is just the point, Jacques. In the first place it will be
necessary to find out in which corridor Mademoiselle de St. Caux
is confined; in the second, to let her know that we are working
for her, and to learn, if possible, from her whether, among those
in charge of her, there is one man who shows some sort of feeling
of pity and kindness; when that is done we should, of course, try
to get hold of him. Of course he doesn't remain in the prison all
day. However, we can see about that after we have found out the
first points."
"I know a woman who is sister to one of the warders," Elise Medart
said. "I don't know whether he is there now or whether he has been
turned out. Martha is a good soul, and I know that sometimes she
has been inside the prison, I suppose to see her brother, for before
the troubles the warders used to get out only once a month. What
her brother is like I don't know, but if he is like her he would,
I think, be just the man to help you."
"Yes," Jacques assented, "I didn't think of Martha. She is a good
soul and would do her best, I am sure."
"Thank you both," Harry said; "but I do not wish you to run any
risks. You have already incurred the greatest danger by sheltering
my friend; I cannot let you hazard your lives farther. This woman
may, as you say, be ready to help us, but her brother might betray
the whole of us, and screen his sister by saying she had only
pretended to enter into the plot in order to betray it."
"We all risk our lives every day," Jacques said quietly. "I am
sure we can trust Martha, and she will know whether she can rely
completely upon her brother. If she can, we will set her to sound
him. Elise will go and see her to-day, and you shall know what she
thinks of it when you come this evening for your night's watching."
Greatly pleased with this unexpected stroke of luck, Harry went off
at once to tell Jeanne that the outline of a plan to rescue Marie
had been fixed upon.
The girl's pale face brightened up at the news.
"Perhaps," she said, "we may be able to send a letter to her. I
should like to send her just a line to say that Virginie and I are
well. Do you think it can be done?"
"I do not know, Jeanne. At any rate you can rely that, if it is
possible and all goes well, she shall have it; but be sure and give
no clue by which they might find you out, if the letter falls into
wrong hands. Tell her we are working to get her free, and ask if
she can suggest any way of escape; knowing the place she may see
opportunities of which we know nothing. Write it very small, only
on a tiny piece of paper, so that a man can hide it anywhere, slip
it into her hand, or put it in her ration of bread."
Jeanne wrote the little note--a few loving words, and the message
Harry had given her.
"Do not sign your name to it," Harry said; "she will know well
enough who it comes from, and it is better in case it should fall
into anyone else's hands."
That evening Harry learned that the woman had consented to sound
her brother, who was still employed in the prison. She had said she
was sure that he would not betray her even if he refused to aid in
the plan.
"I am to see her to-morrow morning," Elise said. "She will go
straight from me to the prison. She says discipline is not nearly
so strict as it used to be. There is a very close watch kept over
the prisoners, but friends of the guards can go in and out without
trouble, except that on leaving they have to be accompanied by
the guard at the door, so as to be sure that no one is passing out
in disguise. She says her brother is good-natured but very fond
of money. He is always talking of retiring and settling down in a
farm in Brittany, where he comes from, and she thinks that if he
thought he could gain enough to do this he would be ready to run
some risk, for he hates the terrible things that are being done
now."
"He seems just the man for us," Harry said. "Will you tell your
friend, when you see her in the morning, that I will give her twenty
louis and her brother a hundred if he can succeed in getting Marie
out?"
"I will tell them, sir. That offer will set his wits to work, I
have no doubt."
Harry then gave her the note Jeanne had written, for the woman
to hand to her brother for delivery if he proved willing to enter
into their plan. Harry had a quiet night of watching, for Victor
lay so still that his friend several times leant over him to see
if he breathed. The doctor had looked in late and said that the
crisis was at hand.
"To-morrow your friend will either sink or he will turn the corner.
He is asleep now and will probably sleep for many hours. He may
never wake again; he may wake, recognize you for a few minutes,
and then go off in a last stupor; he may wake stronger and with a
chance of life. Here is a draught that you will give him as soon
as he opens his eyes; pour besides three or four spoonfuls of soup
down his throat, and if he keeps awake do the same every half hour."
It was not until ten o'clock in the morning that Victor opened his
eyes. He looked vaguely round the room and there was no recognition
in his eyes as they fell upon Harry's face, but they had lost the
wild expression they had worn while he had lain there, and Harry
felt renewed hope as he lifted his head and poured the draught
between his lips. Then he gave him a few spoonfuls of soup and had
the satisfaction of seeing his eyes close again and his breathing
become more and more regular.
The doctor, when he came in and felt Victor's pulse, nodded approval.
"The fever has quite left him," he said; "I think he will do now.
It will be slow, very slow, but I think he will regain his strength;
as to his mind, of that I can say nothing at present."
About mid-day Elise returned.
"I have good news, monsieur," she said at once. "I waited outside
the prison till Martha came out. Her brother has agreed to help if
he can, but he said that he did not think that it would be at all
possible to get mademoiselle out. There are many of the men of the
faubourgs mixed up with the old warders, and there is the greatest
vigilance to ensure that none escape. There would be many doors to
be opened, and the keys are all held by different persons. He says
he will think it over, and if it is any way possible he will risk
it. But he wishes first of all to declare that he does not think
that any way of getting her out can be discovered. He will give
her the note on the first opportunity, and get an answer from her,
which he will send to his sister as soon as he gets a chance."
"That is all we can expect," Harry said joyfully. "I did not expect
that it would be an easy business, or that the man would be able
to hit upon a scheme at once; but now that he has gone so far as
to agree to carry notes, the thought that he may, if he succeeds,
soon have his little farm in Brittany, will sharpen his wits up
wonderfully."
It was three days before an answer came from Marie. Jacques handed
it to Harry when he came to take his turn by Victor's bedside.
Victor was better; he was no longer unconscious, but followed with
his eyes the movements of those in the room. Once he had said, "Where
am I?" but the answer "You are with friends; you have been ill;
you shall hear all about it when you get stronger," had apparently
satisfied him. At Harry he looked with doubtful recognition. He
seemed to remember the face, but to have no further idea about it,
and even when Harry said cheerfully:
"Don't you remember your friend Harry, Victor?" he had shaken his
head in feeble negative.
"I expect it will all come back to him," Jacques said, "as he gets
stronger; and after all it is much better that he should remember
nothing at present. It will be quite time enough for that when he
is better able to stand it."
"I agree with you there," Harry said, "and I am really glad that he
did not remember me, for had he done so the past might have come
back at once and, feeble as he is, that would have completely
knocked him over."
Upon the receipt of Marie's note Harry at once started off at full
speed and soon had the satisfaction of handing it to Jeanne.
She tore it open.
"Do you not know what it is, Harry?"
"How could I?" Harry replied. "As you see the letter is addressed
to you. Of course I should not think of looking at it."
"Why not? You are as much interested in it as I am. Sit down between
me and Virginie and let us read it together. Why, it is quite a
long epistle."
It was written in pencil upon what was evidently a fly-leaf of a
book, and ran as follows:
"My darling Jeanne and Virginie, you can imagine what joy I felt
when I received your little note to-day and heard that you were
still safe. I could hardly believe my senses when, on opening the
little ball of paper which one of our guards thrust into my hand, I
found that it was from you, and that you were both safe and well.
I am writing this crouched down on the ground behind Madame de
Vigny, and so hidden from the sight of our guards, but I can only
write a few lines at a time, lest I should be detected. Tell our
good friend that I fear there is little chance of escape. We are
watched night and day. We are locked up at night, three or four
together, in little cells, but in the day we are in a common hall.
"It is a strange mixture. Here are many of the best blood in France,
together with deputies, advocates, and writers. We may talk together
as much as we like, and sometimes even a joke and a laugh are heard.
Every day some names are called out, and these go and we never see
them again. Do not fret about me, my dear sisters, we are all in
God's hands. If it is his will, we shall be saved; if not, we must
face bravely whatever comes.
"It is a day since I wrote last. A strange thing has happened which
will make your blood boil, Jeanne, as it has made mine. I was called
out this morning to a little room where questions are sometimes
asked us, and who do you think was there? M. Lebat, the son of the
Maire of Dijon--the man who denounced and arrested me. What do
you think the wretch had the insolence to say? That he loved me,
and that if I would consent to marry him he could save me. He said
that his influence would suffice, not only to get me free, but to
obtain for me some of our estates, and he told me he would give me
time to consider his offer, but that I must remember that nothing
could save me if I refused. What do you think I did, Jeanne?
Something very unladylike, I am afraid. I made a step closer to
him, and then I gave him a slap on the face which made my fingers
tingle, then I made him a deep curtsy and said, 'That is my answer,
Monsieur Lebat,' and walked into the great hall again.
"But do not let me waste a line of this last precious letter that
I may be able to write to you by saying more about this wretch. I
can see no possible way of escape, dears, so do not buoy yourselves
up with hope. I have none. Strange as it may seem to you we are
not very unhappy here. There are many of our old friends and some
of the deputies of the Gironde, who used to attend our salon. We
keep up each other's courage. We talk of other things just as if
we were in a drawing-room, and when the list is called out of a
morning, those who are named say good-bye bravely; there is seldom
a tear shed.
"So do not think of me as wretched or unhappy in these last days.
And now, my sisters, I must say adieu. You must trust yourselves
entirely to our brave English friend, as you would trust a brother.
He will do all that is possible to take you out of this unhappy land
and conduct you to England, where you will find Victor, Monsieur
du Tillet, and your brothers, who have, I trust, weeks ago arrived
there in safety. Thank our friend from me and from our dead parents
for his goodness and devotion. That your lives may be happy, my
dear sisters, will be the last prayer of your loving Marie."
Inside the letter was another tiny note addressed for Jeanne,
"Private." Having read the other Jeanne took the little note and
walking to the window opened it. As she did so a burning flush
of colour swept across her face to her very brow. She folded it
carefully again and stood looking through the window silently for
another quarter of an hour before she came back to the table.
"What is it, Jeanne?" Virginie asked; "have you been crying, Jeanne
dear? You look so flushed. You must not fret. Harry says we must
not give up hope, for that he believes he may hit upon some plan
for saving Marie yet. He says it's only natural that she should
think there was no means of getting away, but it was only what he
expected. It is we who must invent something."
"Yes, dear, we will try," Jeanne said with a quiver in her lip,
and then she suddenly burst into tears.
"You mustn't give way, Jeanne," Harry said, when she recovered
herself a little. "You know how much I trust to your advice; if
you were to break down I should lose heart. Do not think of Marie's
letter as a good-bye. I have not lost hope yet, by a long way. Why,
we have done wonders already in managing to get a letter in to her
and to have her reply. I consider half the difficulty is over now
we have a friend in there."
"I will try not to break down again," Jeanne said; "it is not often
I give way, but to-day I do not feel quite myself, and this letter
finished me. You will see I shall be all right to-morrow."
"I hope so," Harry said as he rose to leave; "but I think you had
better ask Louise to give you something--your hands are hot and
your cheeks are quite flushed, and you look to me as if you were
feverish. Good night, dears!"
"I do hope Jeanne is not going to break down," Harry said as he
walked towards his lodging. "If she were to get laid up now that
would be the finishing touch to the whole affair; but perhaps, as
she says, she will be all right in the morning. No doubt in that
note Marie wrote as if she were sure of dying, and such a letter
as that would be enough to upset any girl, even such a plucky one
as Jeanne.
"However, it is of Marie I must think now. It was a brave letter of
hers; it is clear she has given up all hope. This is a bad business
about the scoundrel Lebat. I used to wonder why he came so often
to the chateau on business that could have been done just as well
by a messenger. He saw how things were going, and thought that when
the division of the estates came he might get a big slice. However,
it's most unfortunate that he should have had this interview with
Marie in the prison. If it had not been for that it might have been
months before her turn came for trial. As it is, no doubt Lebat will
have her name put down at once in the list of those for trial, if
such a farce can be called a trial, and will see that no time is
lost before it appears on that fatal list for execution.
"He will flatter himself, of course, that when the last moment
comes, and she sees that there is no hope whatever, she will change
her mind. There is one thing, if she is murdered I will kill him
as I would a dog, for he will be her murderer just as much as if
he had himself cut her throat. I would do it at once if it were not
for the girls. I must not run any unnecessary risks, at any rate
I need not think of him now; the one thing at present is to get
Marie out."
Turning this over in his mind, he walked about for some hours,
scarce noticing where he was going. It seemed to him that there
must be some way of getting Marie out if he could only hit upon
it. He turned over in his mind every escape he had ever read of,
but in most of these the prisoner had been a man, capable of using
tools passed in to him to saw through iron bars, pierce walls, or
overcome jailers; some had been saved by female relatives, wives
or daughters, who went in and exchanged clothes and places with
them, but this was not feasible here. This was not a prison where
relatives could call upon friends, for to be a relative or friend
of a prisoner was quite sufficient in the eyes of the terrorists
to mark anyone as being an enemy of the republic.
He was suddenly roused from his reverie by a cry, and beneath the
dim light of a lantern, suspended over the narrow street, he saw a
man feebly defending himself against two others. He sprang forward
just as the man fell, and with his stick struck a sharp blow on
the uplifted wrist of one of the assailants, sending the knife he
was holding flying through the air. The other turned upon him, but
he drew the pistol which he always carried beneath his clothes, and
the two men at once took to their heels. Harry replaced his pistol
and stooped over the fallen man.
"Are you badly hurt?" he asked.
"No, I think not, but I do not know. I think I slipped down; but
they would have killed me had you not arrived."
"Well, let me get you to your feet," Harry said, holding out
his hands, but with a feeling of some disgust at the abject fear
expressed in the tones of the man's voice. He was indeed trembling
so that even when Harry hauled him to his feet he could scarcely
stand.
"You had better lean against the wall for a minute or two to
recover yourself," Harry said. "I see you have your coat cut on the
shoulder, and are bleeding pretty freely, but it is nothing to be
frightened about. If you will give me your handkerchief I will bind
it up for you."
Harry unbuttoned the man's coat, for his hands shook so much that
he was unable to do so, pulled the arm out of the sleeve, and tied
the bandage tightly round the shoulder. The man seemed to belong
to the bourgeois class, and evidently was careful as to his attire,
which was neat and precise. His linen and the ruffles of his shirt
were spotlessly white and of fine material. The short-waisted coat
was of olive-green cloth, with bright metal buttons; the waistcoat,
extending far below the coat, was a light-buff colour, brocaded
with a small pattern of flowers. When he had bound the wound Harry
helped him on with his coat again. He was by this time recovering
himself.
"Oh these aristocrats," he murmured, "how they hate me!"
The words startled Harry. What was this? He had not interfered, as
he had supposed, to prevent the robbery of some quiet citizen by
the ruffians of the streets. It was a political assassination that
had been attempted--a vengeance by Royalists upon one of the men
of the Revolution. He looked more closely at the person whose life
he had saved. He had a thin and insignificant figure--his face was
pale and looked like that of a student. It seemed to Harry that he
had seen it before, but where he could not say. His first thought
was one of regret that he had interfered to save one of the men
of the 2d of September; then the thought flashed through his mind
that there might be some benefit to be derived from it.
"Young man," the stranger said, "will you give me your arm and
escort me home? You have saved my life; it is a humble one, but
perhaps it is of some value to France. I live but two streets away.
It is not often I am out alone, for I have many enemies, but I was
called suddenly out on business, though I have no doubt now the
message was a fraudulent one, designed simply to put me into the
hands of my foes."
The man spoke in a thin hard voice, which inspired Harry, he knew
not why, with a feeling of repulsion; he had certainly heard it
before. He offered him his arm and walked with him to his door.
"Come up, I beg you," the stranger said.
He ascended to the second floor and rang at the bell. A woman with
a light opened it.
"Why, my brother," she exclaimed on seeing his face, "you are ill!
Has anything happened?"
"I have been attacked in the street," he said, "but I am not hurt,
though, had it not been for this citizen it would have gone hardly
with me. You have to thank him for saving your brother's life."
They had entered a sitting-room now. It was plainly but very neatly
furnished. There were some birds in cages, which, late though the
hour was, hopped on their perches and twittered when they heard
the master's voice, and he responded with two or three words of
greeting to them.
"Set the supper," he said to his sister; "the citizen will take a
meal with us. You know who I am, I suppose?" he said to Harry.
"No," Harry replied. "I have a recollection of your face and voice,
but I cannot recall where I have met you."
"I am Robespierre," he said.
Harry gave a start of surprise. This man whom he had saved was he
whom he had so often execrated--one of the leaders of those who
had deluged France with blood--the man who, next only to Marat
was hated and feared by the Royalists of France. His first feeling
was one of loathing and hatred, but at the same moment there flashed
through his mind the thought that chance had favoured him beyond
his hopes, and that the comedy which he had planned with Victor
to carry out upon the person of Marat had come to pass without
premeditation, but with Robespierre as the chief actor.
But so surprised and so delighted was he that for a minute he sat
unable to say a word. Robespierre was gratified at the effect which
his name had produced. His was a strangely-mixed character--at
once timid and bold, shrinking from personal danger, yet ready to
urge the extremest measures. Simple in his tastes, and yet very vain
and greedy of applause. Domestic and affectionate in his private
character, but ready to shed a river of blood in his public capacity.
Pure in morals; passionless in his resolves; incorruptible and
inflexible; the more dangerous because he had neither passion nor
hate; because he had not, like Danton and Marat, a lust for blood,
but because human life to him was as nothing, because had he
considered it necessary that half France should die for the benefit
of the other half he would have signed their death-warrant without
emotion or hesitation.
"You are surprised, young man," he said, "but the ways of fate are
inscrutable. The interposition of a youth has thwarted the schemes
of the enemies of France. Had you been but ten seconds later I should
have ceased to be, and one of the humble instruments by which fate
is working for the regeneration of the people would have perished."
While Robespierre was speaking Harry had rapidly thought over the
role which it would be best for him to adopt. Should he avow his
real character and ask for an order for the liberation of Marie as
a recompense for the service he had rendered Robespierre, or should
he retain his present character and obtain Robespierre's confidence?
There was danger in an open appeal, for, above all things, Robespierre
prided himself upon his incorruptibility, and he might consider
that to free a prisoner for service rendered to himself would be
a breach of his duty to France. He resolved, therefore, to keep
silence at present, reserving an appeal to Robespierre's gratitude
for the last extremity.
"Pardon me, monsieur," he said, after he had rapidly arrived at
this conclusion; "my emotion was naturally great at finding that
I had unwittingly been the means of saving the life of one on whom
the eyes of France are fixed. I rejoice indeed that I should have
been the means of preserving such a life."
This statement was strictly true, although not perhaps in the sense
in which Robespierre regarded it.
"We will talk more after supper," he said. "My sister is, I see,
ready with it. Indeed it is long past our usual hour, and we were
just sitting down when I was called out by what purported to be an
important message from the Club."