A secretary began the minutes, which consisted of resolutions of Jacobin joy at the capture of a once idolised patriot who had lately been denounced by Robespierre for counselling mercy to prisoners.
The name of Robespierre excited enthusiastic applause.
A set of benches facing those of the applicants had stood thus far empty. They were now filled by the entry of a body of representatives furnished by certain of the forty-eight sections of the City, whereupon the "Marseillaise" was again beat, and several of the councillors lit their pipes.
The principal sections represented were those of the Pikes and the Fish-market.
Some one called for "Ça ira." It was succeeded by a harangue of the Admiral against the captured ex-patriot. Cyrène followed with horror every word of his oratory, every movement of his declamation, the air of pride with which he played upon the passions of the Sans-culottes, and the wicked sweep of the principles he announced.
"That all mankind deserve massacre," he cried, smiling, "is the philosophic general rule; the sole exceptions are the true patriots. By title of liberty, the possessions of all belong to them alone. And how can we know the true patriot? By his red cap and his red hand."
Finally the long suspense of the applicants was brought to a close; the secretary called the first on the list.
"Citizeness Montmorency."
At the once great name a silence fell over the place.
Then a murmur ran through the benches of the Jacobin women, while Cyrène summoned her courage. The murmur was not long in taking shape.