“Oh, that is another matter! After practising with the rapier for two days, he could not decide upon anything; and, at the close of the Assembly, M. de Castrie cried out that he was a coward. They went out, and fought, and Lameth received a rapier thrust in his arm.”
“Is it true that the sword was poisoned?” asked one voice.
“I know not that; but I do know that they are preparing to raze M. de Castrie’s house to the ground.”
This news was greeted with a shout of laughter.
At this moment, an eager voice was heard, urging the debate. Robespierre was on the forum.
He began to speak in the midst of the noise. As far as I could judge, he spoke for union; but the noise and excitement were so great, that it was almost impossible to hear what he said.
But, accustomed to noise and interruptions, Robespierre continued, with that indefatigable perseverance, and that indomitable stubbornness which made his greatness, and, finally, his triumph.
Robespierre had spoken for ten minutes, and would, probably, have eventually succeeded in gaining silence, had not all attention been distracted from him by another arrival.
This was one of the heroes of the duel which Mirabeau had spoken of—Charles Lameth. He carried his right arm in a sling; but, with that exception, looked and walked wonderfully well.
All crowded round him, as they had done round Mirabeau, but with a different sentiment.