It was Olivier, whom the police, aided by the National Guards, were carrying away in chains.
CHAPTER VIII
AN EVENING AT THE DUPLAYS'
Robespierre slowly descended the altar steps with a preoccupied air, for that last desperate cry of Olivier had struck its mark. However self-possessed he might be, he had felt the blow acutely. That voice, full of hatred and revenge, had risen from the crowd he thought entirely at one with him! In their very applause at that moment the people were protesting against an insult coming from their ranks! They were driven to defend him, when he had dreamt that the populace would receive him with instant and unanimous enthusiasm, insuring to him for ever the esteem of France!
Pale and anxious, he followed the procession to the Champ de Mars, where the fête was to close with one crowning patriotic demonstration. He felt that his supremacy was tottering, and wondered how many more discordant notes would disturb the prevailing harmony. Alas! there were already signs of jarring discord. Certain members of the Convention talked aloud in a free, sarcastic strain, on the road, openly exchanging opinions, emboldened by Olivier's public insult. Words of dark and ominous import reached the ears of Robespierre—words of hatred and scorn, of tragic foreboding, and portentous prophecy. "I despise and hate him!" said one. "There is but one step from the Tarpeian Rock to the Capitol!" said another. And a third added: "A Brutus may yet arise!" To close the mouths of these backbiters, he mentally reflected, and to save all, nothing was wanted but the vox populi, the supreme and national mandate, uprising from the assembled multitude and re-echoed through the whole of France: "Robespierre Dictator! Dictator for life!" But the Incorruptible awaited any such acclaim in vain.
The fête of the Champ de Mars which followed was wanting in the brilliancy and magnificence of the preceding festival. Every one was hot and unstrung. Robespierre again addressed the people, who, tired from having stood so long under a burning sun, were listless and absent-minded. The demonstration was drawing to its close amidst a general feeling of depression.
Nothing but confusion reigned on the march homeward. Robespierre was to return to the Tuileries to meet several of his colleagues, but instead, he hurried away, fully resolved to shut himself up in his room and open his door to no one, not even to the Duplays, who had dogged his steps the whole way back, trying to catch him up, and only succeeding at the threshold of their house, where Robespierre begged them to have their little festive party without him.
"I want rest," he said.
"The fête went very well, didn't it?" asked mother Duplay.
"Yes, very well!" replied Robespierre.