"Robespierre à la Guillotine!"
The chariots crossed from the gates of the Conciergerie, acclaimed by the hoots and jeers of the daily hordes of mad women who gathered to shriek their foul abuse and frantic revilings. But as the tumbrels passed the river the insults ceased, replaced by murmurs of sympathy.
In the third chariot Dossonville found Nicole. The duchess, with her brilliant cheeks, was on the same bench, and between the two women the boy, his hand in Nicole's.
From the direction of the Convention came wild rumors of Robespierre's defeat. The crowd, increasing, began to cry:
"Enough blood!"
"No more blood!"
"Pity on the condemned!"
Dossonville, hardly daring to hope, noticed that Sanson examined the crowd anxiously—a not unfriendly glance. The demonstration continued, growing bolder, a hundred voices insisting:
"Enough blood!"
"No more victims!"