He hoped, poor Brutus, to recover his stoicism by occupying himself with public affairs.
Public affairs were indeed terrible; the 31st of May was preparing. The "Terreur," which, like a torrent, precipitated itself from the height of the Montagne, endeavored to carry away the dike opposed to it by the Girondins, those audacious "Modéréts" who had dared to demand vengeance for the massacres of September, and to wrestle for an instant to save the life of the king.
While Maurice was working with an energy that drove the fever from his heart to his head, the messenger had re-entered the old Rue Saint Jacques, filling the dwelling there with terror and astonishment.
The letter, after passing through Geneviève's hands, was given by her to Dixmer.
Dixmer opened and read it, without at first understanding it; he then communicated the contents to the Citizen Morand, who, becoming as pale as death, supported his head upon his hand.
In the situation in which Dixmer, Morand, and their companions found themselves (a situation totally unknown to Maurice, but which our readers have penetrated) this letter was like a thunderbolt.
"Is this an upright, honest man?" asked Dixmer, in great distress.
"Yes," replied Morand, without the least hesitation.
"Never mind," said the advocate for extreme measures, "you see we were very wrong not to kill him."
"My friend," said Morand, "we struggle against violence, we brand it with the name of crime. We have acted rightly, whatever may be the result, in not assassinating this man. I repeat, I believe Maurice to possess a noble, generous spirit."