Chapter XIV: The Knell of the Tocsin

Urbain, who had witnessed Robespierre's signal defeat and downfall from a seat in the gallery, ran immediately to the Rue du Martroy, to warn Clarisse and Thérèse that their retreat at the Hôtel 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 was 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 Committee. 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 Thérèse 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 secretary."

As Thérèse, still trembling from the shock of hearing that name, was about to answer, Clarisse added hastily--

"Hush, child! Forget all his past, and think of him only as he was yesterday! He is now vanquished and fallen, and with him, alas! falls our last hope!"

Thérèse, putting aside her own fears before her aunt's uncontrollable 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 which 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 entirely devoted to Robespierre. Who could tell whether the Incorruptible's vengeance might not be brooding! 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."

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 darkness, heralding a thunder-storm. Suddenly the sound of a bell was heard. It grew 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 Thérèse.

Troops could be discerned in the distance, brandishing 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 beating 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 perspiration.

"I told you so! Robespierre has been rescued!"

"Rescued!" exclaimed both women, unable to conceal their joy.

"Yes! rescued on the way to the Conciergerie, and carried in triumph to the Hôtel 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 Hôtel de Ville."

The cries outside grew louder and nearer, while the tocsin still rang out.

"To arms! To arms! Long live the Incorruptible!"

"Do you hear? They are stirring up the Sections! 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 windows in case of attack. I have orders to conduct you to the Hôtel de Ville, where Citoyen Robespierre has provided for your safety, but he wishes to see you first. You must wait for him in the antechamber of the Commune's Council Hall, where he is at this moment conferring with his colleagues. He will join you as soon as he is at liberty; you have only to follow me. This room communicates directly through a corridor with the Hôtel de Ville."

"Then let us go!" said Clarisse; and, taking Thérèse by the hand, she followed the man.

The two women crossed a suite of rooms and corridors where officials came and went in hot haste. Urbain led the way, turning now and then to direct them aright. Presently he stopped and said, pointing to a door--

"It is in here!" and he opened it.

Clarisse and Thérèse now found themselves in a room decorated with Revolutionary emblems, the walls covered with a greenish paper. Two candlesticks stood on the mantelpiece.

"It was here Citoyen Robespierre told me to bid you wait. He is in the next room attending a meeting in the Commune's Council Hall."

Whilst he spoke Urbain indicated a door, a little way from that by which the two women had entered, behind which a confused murmur of voices was audible.

"I will go and let him know you are here," he said.

The two women were now alone. Clarisse cast a hasty glance round. The apartment was very plainly furnished; in fact, almost void of furniture. Against a panelling between two doors on the left was a raised platform, on which stood a large copper-embossed table. At the foot of the platform were a couple of chairs and an armchair, the only 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 representing 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 Thérèse, taking each other by the hand, tremblingly looked out to see what was happening, and Clarisse recognised the Place de la Grêve.

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 Thérèse 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, wiping great beads of perspiration from his brow. Then he turned to Urbain.

"Open the window, it is stifling!"

He raised his eyes to Clarisse, who was standing near.

"Excuse me.... but I am almost broken down ... Come closer ... Take this chair ... Urbain has told you how things have gone with me?"

"Yes," Clarisse answered, seating herself, whilst Thérèse, standing by her side, examined with mixed feelings 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 Robespierre.

Then, in a fainting voice, he told her of his useless inquiries at 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 Convention. 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 overcome her.

"He will be saved all the same! His only 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," he repeated gently, looking at Thérèse 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 speak, 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 Convention. It was a trap that had been set in vengeance.

"But by whom?" asked Clarisse.

"By the dead!"

Clarisse and Thérèse 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 rose.

"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 Council 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, shutting 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 sake, have not I the right to be a man!" and he sank into an armchair.

Just then the door opened again. A group of patriots entered in great excitement, speaking at the top of their voices, and gesticulating 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! What were they waiting for, and for whom?

Some of the patriots approached the windows. The howling crowd which, a few minutes ago swarmed in the Place de la Grêve, had perceptibly thinned.

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 forward? What was he waiting for? Waiting! He was purely and simply waiting for Paris, the whole of Paris, which at the voice of his friends, must rise in 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 Fleuriot-Lescot.

"And it is their supper-time," observed the Incorruptible, with a bitter smile as he sat down again.

The sky was suddenly overclouded, and rain poured 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 shower.

"Hallo, there! Wait a while! Where are you running to, cowards? Everything is ready for the onset!"

Lebas, who had also approached one of the windows, stood back discouraged.

"They are deserting us by hundreds!" he exclaimed.

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 sectioners of the Pignes Quarter."

"Very well! Give it to me!"

Lebas 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 by Barras!"

"But what does it all mean?" they 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 insurgents. 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 fall back on to the Faubourg! said one. No, to the arsenal! suggested another.

But Robespierre resolutely and authoritatively interposed--

"It would be absolute madness! Prepare yourselves for the fight! Get the guns ready. There are artillerymen enough in the square to shoot them all down."

"Yes! That is the best plan! The Incorruptible is right."

Coffinhal ran to the window to give a signal to the gunners. A loud cry of "Long live the Republic!" answered him. Robespierre recommended prudence to Coffinhal. He must 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, assured 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. Lebas went 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 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 distant 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.

"Why 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.

The sectioners had turned their cannon against the Hôtel de Ville!

One cry, the despairing cry of the vanquished, echoed through the room.

"We are betrayed! _Sauve qui peut!_"

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 avant!_ Forward!"

Drums beat the charge.

Some ran to the 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; 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 put.

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 door opened and Clarisse, breathless with fear, rushed in, clasping Thérèse tightly by the hand. Fearful and threatening sounds entered with her through the open door.

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 gain time!"

Clarisse dragged Thérèse towards the door, but recoiled with a terrified shriek. Loud shouts were heard coming that way. Robespierre rushed forward and pushed them towards another door opposite.

"This way, then! Fly! for pity's sake, fly!"

Clarisse and Thérèse 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 horror! All three fastened their eyes on the door in agonised suspense.

Olivier, all dishevelled, his clothes in disorder, appeared on the threshold. His eyes met Robespierre'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! you, Olivier! you of all the world! Oh! horror!"

And she tore the pistol from his grasp and flung it away. He looked first at her, then at Thérèse, 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 proclamation, and added a ghastly flourish to the initial letters R...o...b...

Thérèse, standing near Olivier, was weeping bitterly and telling him of the efforts 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 seeing 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 Grêve.

"_Citoyens!_ the tyrant has shot himself! The tyrant has forestalled the law! Long live the Convention!"

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 Thérèse among 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 with difficulty, every limb trembling, and escaped from the crowd with Thérèse and Olivier 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 of the doorways as the gloomy procession passed, clung to her son, imploring his pity.

"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 lost to sight.

Olivier then turned to his mother and his fiancée.

"Now, let us get away from here!" he says.

"Is it really true? Are you free?" asked Clarisse.

"Yes, quite free! 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 protection, and descended the Hôtel de Ville's grand staircase through the crowd, which followed fallen Robespierre with cries of "Victory! Victory!"