"He?" cried Olivier, still incredulous.
The room filled rapidly from every side with the assailants armed with pikes, swords, knives, and muskets. They rushed in, screaming and shouting "Victory! Victory!" But all drew back on seeing Robespierre stretched on the ground, bathed in blood. A national representative ran to the window and announced the news to the crowd swarming in the Place de la Grêve.
"Citoyens! the tyrant has shot himself! The tyrant has forestalled the law! Long live the Convention!"
Cries of "Long live the Convention!" re-echoed from the square, and were taken up and repeated from afar, till they gradually died in the distance.
Robespierre, raising himself with Clarisse's aid, looked around for Olivier and Thérèse among the crowd.
"At all events, the child is saved and you also," he said.... "Let me not pass away without your forgiveness!"
"Oh yes! I forgive you!" Clarisse murmured amidst her tears.
"I thank you!" he answered feebly, and fell back fainting.
A rough, commanding voice broke in on Clarisse's grief.
"Take him up!"