Clarisse and Thérèse crossed over to the other exit. But through the door they had just left a fearful cry entered, and nailed them to the spot.
"This way! Follow me!"
It was Olivier's voice! Robespierre recognised it also, and was struck dumb with horror! All three fastened their eyes on the door in agonised suspense.
Olivier, all dishevelled, his clothes in disorder, appeared on the threshold. His eyes met Robespierre's, who was standing near the platform. He rushed on him, pistol in his hand, exclaiming—
"Ah! villain. You will kill no one else, now!" and was about to fire, but Clarisse threw herself on him, and held his arm.
"Oh! you, Olivier! you of all the world! Oh! horror!"
And she tore the pistol from his grasp and flung it away. He looked first at her, then at Thérèse, bewildered at their presence. Robespierre, still grasping his pistol, silently watched the scene. His son's act was his death-blow. Deliberately he turned the muzzle of the weapon towards himself.
"I shall kill no one else ... but myself!" he sighed, and with the word he pulled the trigger and fell wounded on the steps of the platform. The bullet had broken his jaw.
Clarisse, beside herself at this double shock, rushed to Robespierre's side and attempted to staunch the blood flowing from his wound. As he fell, some drops of blood splashed on the half-signed proclamation, and added a ghastly flourish to the initial letters R...o...b...
Thérèse, standing near Olivier, was weeping bitterly and telling him of the efforts Robespierre had made to save them all.