“Make it twen-twenty thousand, round numbers!”
The admirers of Marat chafed. Marat’s mouth shut, his eyes darted fire, his head was drawn back; he looked as if he could have swallowed his adversary at one mouthful.
The friends of Camille, Frérone, and Danton, the enemies of Marat, took the part of Camille Desmoulins.
They would have come to blows, despite Danton’s continuously ringing the bell for order, and his terrible voice sounding far above the din, and crying, “Silence! silence!”
I passed with M. Drouet to the side of Camille Desmoulins, for whom I felt a sympathy as strong as my hatred of Marat. The attention of all, however, was now drawn to the entrance of a new personage, on whom all eyes were fixed.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FEMALE ELEMENT IN POLITICS.
This new comer was a woman.
But a strange one, having a good deal of the masculine in her composition—a perfect amazon—one might say a virago.