Up on to the platform swarmed the crowd, laughing, gesticulating, pressing upon the jury, and even jostling Fouquier Tinville himself.
Hébert bent to his ear in a last effort, but got only a curse and a shrug for his pains.
"I tell you, he 's got them, and no human power can thwart them now."
"You should have shut his mouth! Why in the devil's name did you let him speak?"
"You wanted him to compromise himself, and it seemed the easiest way. He has the devil's own luck. Hark to the fools with their 'Vive Dangeau!' A while ago it was 'Death to the aristocrat!' and now it 's 'Dangeau and the Daughter of the Revolution!'"
"Speak to them,—do something," insisted Hébert.
"Try it yourself, and get torn to pieces," retorted the other. "The girl 's not my fancy. Burn your own fingers if you want to."
Dangeau was at the table now.
"We await the decision of the Tribunal," he said, with a hint of sarcasm in the quiet tones.
Fouquier Tinville's eyes rested insolently upon him.