"Is everything right?" asked Robespierre.
"Everything is right, citizen," replied Didier.
Apparently satisfied, the Incorruptible turned round, and went towards Cornélie, who had stooped to gather a daisy. A few steps off, on the other trunk, Robespierre had laid the bouquet of blue periwinkles gathered in his morning walk through the forest. He now offered it to her.
"Oh, the pretty things!" she exclaimed, thanking him for the delicate attention.
"It was the flower Rousseau loved," Robespierre observed.
"You are as kind and good as he," the young girl replied, knowing she gave pleasure to the Incorruptible in thus comparing him to his master.
Robespierre, pleased and flattered, fastened the flowers in the young girl's dress. A gentle breeze murmured through the leaves, fanning them as it passed. It had come from afar, laden with a scent of cultivated blossoms, the heavy perfume of roses that grew in Clarisse's garden.
"Ah, life is sweet sometimes," sighed Cornélie.
And Robespierre, inhaling deep draughts of the perfumed air, assented with a smile.