Clarisse still remained, kneeling, but they pushed her aside.
"Now then! Get out of the way!"
She rose with difficulty, every limb trembling, and escaped from the crowd with Thérèse and Olivier through an open door. Some men advanced to carry Robespierre away, who looked already like a corpse, with his eyes closed, and the blood gushing through his lips. One man held his head, another his legs, and thus the ghastly burden was carried through the crowd of assailants, who stood aside to make way for it. Clarisse, standing in one of the doorways as the gloomy procession passed, clung to her son, imploring his pity.
"Oh! pardon him! Do you too pardon him! I beg you, pardon him!"
"Make room for the Incorruptible!" shouted a voice in ribald mockery.
They shrunk back, but Clarisse all the while passionately entreated her son to pardon Robespierre.
"Oh, hear me, my son, I implore you! Say that you forgive him!"
"Yes, mother, I forgive him, and may God have mercy on him!" Olivier murmured, casting a long look after the grim procession till it was lost to sight.
Olivier then turned to his mother and his fiancée.
"Now, let us get away from here!" he says.