Clarisse looked at him, in bewilderment. There was no more hope, then? France was to perish under that rule of abject cowardice? Would no one take this evil by the throat and strangle it?
"Yes," replied Robespierre.
"But who, my God! who?"
"I!"
"You?"
"Yes, I myself!"
And Robespierre unfolded his plans. When once the Committee of Public Safety had perished on the scaffold he would be master, a master strong enough perhaps to do away with the executioner and to decree clemency! When would that day come? He could not tell yet! Perhaps in a few days! For the moment it was the vigil of arms. Nothing was now possible but patience?
Clarisse was listening to a far-off sound which reached them like the muffled roar of distant waves. What was that noise?
Robespierre had heard it also and started up pale and nervous.
It was the crowd greeting fresh cartloads of condemned, which were passing the Place de la Grêve.