"Yes, already!" said Robespierre.
And he told them all about their walk through the strange crowd, so lively and so full of enthusiasm, turning now and then to Cornélie for corroboration. But Cornélie wore an absent air, replying only in monosyllables, for she had just learnt that her dress had not yet arrived; though she took some comfort on hearing that her sisters were in no better plight.
Mother Duplay, with arms akimbo, lingered to listen with enraptured interest to Robespierre's narrative.
"I said as much to Duplay! It will be a triumph."
Duplay here interrupted her.
"Well, are we to have supper to-night?"
"You may well ask, but when Maximilien talks I forget everything."
Then taking up her basket of salad, she called Victoire to help her. They used to dine out of doors when the weather was fine; the table was already there, and had only to be laid. Ah! that fête—how it turned everybody's head! Mother Duplay was certainly late, to her great discomfiture. Yes, she was late—she, the pink of punctuality.
"And the chicken will be burnt to a cinder!"
She ran to the kitchen, on the ground floor, next to the dining room, and found her youngest daughter, Madame Lebas, already there.