Clarisse had now freed herself, and ran to the door to open it. But Robespierre, quick as thought, stood before her and barred the way.
"Remain where you are, I charge you!"
Then resolutely and solemnly he added—
"I myself will go! And if he is in that cart, I will brave all to save him!" Seeing that Clarisse seemed doubtful, he added with emphasis—"I swear it to you!"
A flood of tears, tears of gratitude, was Clarisse's only answer.
"May you be forgiven all for those brave words!" she sobbed.
He led her to a chair near the window, and in a state of exhaustion she allowed herself to be seated. Thérèse bending over her forgot her own tears, in drying those of Clarisse. Robespierre, drawn to the window by a fresh outburst in the street, turned and looked out. There was but one more cart now! The prison escort followed in the rear. It was indeed the last!
The last! It was the last cartload! If Olivier was not there, he was saved! But he must be! Alas, he must; where else could he be? Struggling between hope and fear, Clarisse fell on her knees, and with clasped hands prayed aloud.
"O Lord, my God! my God! God of mercy and compassion, grant that my child may not be there!"
Thérèse had also fallen on her knees beside Clarisse, so that the two now knelt, locked in each other's arms, and prayers and supplications rose from both their lips.