"Are you sure? Are you sure, though?" repeated Clarisse in a fainting voice.
Robespierre to convince her came and raised her, and supporting her in his arms, carried her to the window.
"Do you believe me now?" he said.
It was true. There were only women in the cart.
"Only women! My God, what a relief!" exclaimed Clarisse leaving the window.
But she suddenly realised that her mother's heart had made her selfish and inhuman, and with joined hands she implored pardon of those unfortunate victims. She had fallen on her knees again, her head on the back of a chair, thoroughly prostrate with exhaustion.
Robespierre was now preoccupied with thoughts of Olivier. He was not in the tumbrils! Where was he, then?
Confiding Clarisse to the young girl's care, he took his hat to go.
"Whoever you are, sir, may God bless you!" said Thérèse with a long look of gratitude.
Robespierre turned and looked earnestly at her. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Feeling his eyes fill with tears, he hurried from the room.