He never spoke or uttered a cry, except when the bandage was taken from his face; then a scream, heard many hundred yards away, burst from him.
His head fell—he and the Terror ended together.
France fell into the hands of Napoleon.
My tale is done. I have said very little about myself—I, Réné Besson, found in my old age by Alexander Dumas, seated in the sunlight. I married Estelle Duplay (the furies broke into the house of Duplay, the day after Robespierre’s death, and killed his poor wife), and found peace and happiness. One last word! I have never regretted saving Sophie Gerbaut, and the Viscount de Malmy, from the Terror. That I did. I am now an old man. My very last words are these. The Revolution was terrible, but it did the world more good in the long run than the world has yet found out.
Réné Besson.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A name the Queen gave to Pitt.
[2] Grandfather of the Henri de Rochefort who writes the Lanterne.