These were the cries Robespierre heard.
He did not quail.
“Which is the man?” asks a soldier of Léonard Bourdon, who did not face his fallen enemy.
He pointed the questioner’s pistol at Robespierre, and he said, “That is the man.”
The report was heard, and the next moment Robespierre’s head fell upon the proclamation he was signing at the instant.
The ball had entered the left side of the face, and carried away part of the cheek and several teeth.
Couthon tried to rise, and fell to the ground.
St. Just sat calmly glancing from his fallen friend to his enemies.
The procession to the Convention was horrible enough. It was now daybreak.