"Danton was hot-headed. He was too proud to appeal to the populace who idolised him."
"And I have no popularity to which I can appeal. If Robespierre strikes at me in the Convention, I am doomed——"
"Unless you strike first."
"I have no following. We none of us have. Robespierre sways the Convention with one word."
"You mean," she broke in more vehemently, "that you are all cringing cowards—the abject slaves of one man. Two hundred of you are longing for this era of bloodshed to cease; two hundred would stay the pitiless work of the guillotine—and not one is plucky enough to cry, 'Halt! It is enough!'"
"The first man who cries 'Halt!' is called a traitor," Tallien retorted gloomily. "And the guillotine will not rest until Robespierre himself has said, 'It is enough!'"
"He alone knows what he wants. He alone fears no one," she exclaimed, almost involuntarily giving grudging admiration where in truth she felt naught but loathing.
"I would not fear either, Theresia," he protested, and there was a note of tender reproach in his voice, "if it were not for you."
"I know that, mon ami," she rejoined with an impatient little sigh. "Well, what do you want me to do?"
He leaned forward in his chair, closer to her, and did not mark—poor fool!—that, as he drew near, she recoiled ever so slightly from him.