"There are two of them," said Robespierre, who, taller than she, could command a more distant view.
Two! two carts! It was impossible for Olivier not to be in one of them. Clarisse felt it! He must be there!
"He is there, I feel it.... I tell you he is there!"
In her anxiety to see better she grew regardless of precaution. Robespierre struggled to draw her from the window. It was madness. She might be seen!
Thérèse still raised her voice, choked with tears, in supplications to heaven:
"Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen!"
A cry of anguish rent the air. Clarisse had recognised Olivier! "There in that cart!" Robespierre strained his eyes, half dead with fear.... "Where? Where?" He could not see him! "Oh yes! Yes! there, in the second cart! That young man standing, his head bent!..." And unable longer to contain herself, in the madness of grief, she placed her hand on the window clasp and would have opened it; but Robespierre prevented her, and the struggle began again. No! she was mistaken! She need only look! The young man was raising his head.
"There, you see, it is not he!"
"Then he must be in another cart!..." And worn out with agonising suspense and excitement she sank down in a chair. Again the noisy clamour died into the distance.
Robespierre took courage now. It was surely the last cartload!