In the gallery Robespierre again seized the man's arm, and bent forward to see if the way was clear; then feeling immense relief, he rushed towards the exit, almost running, and followed with difficulty by Barassin, who with the lantern dangling in his hand could scarcely keep pace with him.
"Hallo! Citoyen Robespierre!" he panted, "you're going too fast!"
But the Incorruptible continued his headlong flight.
CHAPTER XII
THE EVE OF THE BATTLE
Robespierre could breathe again. He was once more in the open, the silent stars above him, the Seine flecked with white bars of reflected moonlight, flowing at his feet. But he dared not linger there. He turned quickly, and darted along close to the walls, fearing that for him, as once for Fouquier-Tinville, the water would take the crimson hue of blood. By slow degrees he became calmer. Refreshing gusts of cool night air fanned his fevered brow, and restored him to reality. He thought of Olivier again. If he were not in the Conciergerie, where could he be?
Entering the inner court of the Tuileries, at first he seemed undecided, and then, as if under a sudden impulse, went straight towards the Pavilion of Liberty. The Committee of Public Safety held its meetings there, in the very apartment once occupied by Louis XVI. This committee usually worked far into the night, and Robespierre was sure of finding some one. As he expected, he met Billaud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois, who were crossing the vestibule of the ground floor at that moment. He accosted them angrily, for the two men, who had been hissed and hooted at the Jacobin Club, now seemed to exult, as though they held some secret threat over his head. The ironical smiles he fancied he saw playing round their lips aggravated his fury.
"So you have released the prisoner I sent to La Force?" he cried.
"Quite true!" replied Billaud-Varennes, relishing Robespierre's discomfiture as a set-off against the Jacobins' hooting.
"For what reason?"