"Wronged me! ... When have you wronged me?" the young man repeated. "Wasn't it through you that my mother was..."
But recollecting himself he stopped short.
"Arrested?" put in Robespierre.
"No!" exclaimed Olivier.
And then the struggle recommenced.
Robespierre was, however, quite sure now of the arrest. What he wanted to know was the name of the prison to which the two women had been taken, and he came near to the chair by which the prisoner was standing. Olivier instinctively recoiled a step, Robespierre, completely exhausted, made one last effort. He implored the young man to lay aside his mistrust and hatred, to help him to save those who were so dear to him.
"To help you to kill them, you mean!"
Robespierre started from his seat, exasperated beyond measure. This was going too far! Olivier must be mad! Could he not, would he not realise that the very way to kill the two unhappy women was to leave them for the executioner to do his work! Their turn would soon come.
"If yours does not come first!" interrupted Olivier.
What madness! Perhaps at this very moment they were entering the cart which was to take them to the Revolutionary Tribunal, and the next day to the scaffold. It was Olivier who was sending them to death, and all because he was too obstinate to say the word which would save them! He was a blind, unnatural son; he would kill his own mother!