The lady in this case neither prostrated herself, nor begged, nor implored. She was quite calm and self-possessed, and although not beautiful had fine black eyes. After making Robespierre a charming curtsey, she said, smiling:
“Citizen Robespierre, I am Citizeness Belgarde, once known as the Duchess of Belgarde, and I have come to ask that I be admitted to share the imprisonment of my husband, once Duke of Belgarde.”
Robespierre, who dearly loved a duchess, motioned Trimousette to be seated, then said in his croaking voice after a moment:
“There is no doubt your husband has conspired against the liberties of the people, and the only way in which those liberties can be secured is by the death of all those who would have destroyed liberty, like that tyrant Louis Capet.”
Now, thought Robespierre, she will begin to sob and beg for her husband’s life. But not so. Trimousette reflected a moment, and then said, softly and clearly:
“The killing of his Most Christian Majesty and of the blessed Queen Marie Antoinette was barbarous murder.”
Robespierre started violently. No man, much less a woman, had dared before to say so much to him. He looked with scowling green eyes at Trimousette composed and even smiling slightly.
“The National Assembly long since decreed the death of all who should advance such treason,” he said, as soon as he could catch breath.
“So I supposed,” replied Trimousette; “but if I can but be allowed in my husband’s prison——”
A light leaped into her black eyes as she spoke. Robespierre, stroking his chin, regarded her critically. How would she go to the guillotine? Probably quite quietly, without making the least outcry of resistance.