The whole assembly echo his words, and shout: "The gendarmes! Bring in the gendarmes!"
The spectators in the gallery rise in their excitement and join in the general clamour.
"Vive la Liberté! Vive la Liberté!"
Robespierre staggers under these crushing blows, and shrieks in his despair—
"Liberty, indeed! She is no more! The triumph of those ruffians is her death-knell!"
But the guards have entered. They surround the accused, and push them towards the door. Robespierre walks with head erect, and folded arms between two gendarmes. He does not even cast a glance on the crowd who had hailed his entrance with loud cheers, and who now hiss and hoot him. The public are descending and mix with the deputies. The whole floor is crowded. The Convention-hall where a loud, incessant buzzing is all that can be heard, resembles a gigantic beehive, for no single voice is distinguishable in the tempestuous clamour that follows that solemn act at last accomplished.
A cry rises above the universal hum: "Long live the Convention!" but is instantaneously succeeded by another more mighty and prevailing shout: "Long live the Republic!"
Meanwhile the accused have disappeared.