The people were already looking towards Napoleon—the man of the sword, not of the tongue.
Robespierre fell back upon silence, but he was always to be seen at his place at the Convention. Hour after hour, friends became enemies.
He knew he was condemned, but he waited.
Here is the final scene:—
Robespierre and his friends, St. Just, Couthon, and Lebas, seated in a room by themselves, hear the jingle of approaching soldiers. Lebas takes one of a couple of pistols, and presents it—“Robespierre, let us die.”
“No; I await the executioner,” says Robespierre, and the other two murmur in assent.
The sounds come nearer.
A report—and Lebas falls. He has shot himself through the heart.
The soldier-insurgents swarm into the room.
“Down with the tyrant! Where is he?”