She stopped at sight of Robespierre.
"The friend who saved us," said Clarisse, answering her look of surprise.
Thérèse went straight to the window, but Clarisse barred the way.
"Oh, no! she must not look at such a spectacle. Better kneel down and pray.... Pray for those about to die and for them also, yes for themselves, with all her soul!"
Thérèse fell on her knees and joined her hands, her large blue eyes, brimful of tears, lifted towards Saint Gervais, the deserted church, where the lingering spirit of outraged religion might perhaps accomplish a miracle!
The terrible tumult now burst on their ears like the rumble of thunder. As it drew nearer, separate sounds were distinguishable; screams, ribald laughter, hooting, degrading clamour, and coarse jokes reached them; all the hatred and fury of the Parisian populace was manifest in those hideous revels. The crowd was ushering the first tumbril into the Rue du Martroy, preceded by the mænads of the guillotine, loathsome, drinkbesotted viragoes, who yelled, and contorted themselves, dancing the Carmagnole in front of the condemned. Discordant strains of revolutionary songs rose above the rumbling of the cart-wheels, the clank of horses' hoofs, and the cracking of whips.
Robespierre had half opened the shutters, and tried to distinguish the first cart through the dense crowd. Clarisse struggled with him to look also, but the Incorruptible held her back resolutely.
"No; I will look alone!"
"Do you see him? Tell me; is he there?"
"No," he replied, still preventing her from approaching.