his myrmidons are broken. The Revolution will
resume its course, majestic and terrible."

Gamelin fainted.

At seven in the morning a surgeon sent by the Convention dressed his
hurts. The Convention was full of solicitude for Robespierre's
accomplices; it would fain not have one of them escape the guillotine.

The artist, ex-juror, ex-member of the Council General of the Commune,
was borne on a litter to the Conciergerie.

XXVIII

On the 10th, when Evariste, after a fevered night passed on the
pallet-bed of a dungeon, awoke with a start of indescribable horror,
Paris was smiling in the sunshine in all her beauty and immensity;
new-born hope filled the prisoners' hearts; tradesmen were blithely
opening their shops, citizens felt themselves richer, young men happier,
women more beautiful, for the fall of Robespierre. Only a handful of
Jacobins, a few _Constitutional_ priests and a few old women trembled to
see the Government pass into the hands of the evil-minded and corrupt.
Delegates from the Revolutionary Tribunal, the Public Prosecutor and two
judges, were on their way to the Convention to congratulate it on having
put an end to the plots. By decree of the Assembly the scaffold was
again to be set up in the Place de la Revolution. They wanted the
wealthy, the fashionable, the pretty women to see, without putting
themselves about, the execution of Robespierre, which was to take place
that same day. The Dictator and his accomplices were outlawed; it only
needed their identity to be verified by two municipal officers for the
Tribunal to hand them over immediately to the executioner. But a
difficulty arose; the verifications could not be made in legal form, the
Commune as a body having been put outside the pale of law. The Assembly
authorized identification by ordinary witnesses.

The triumvirs were haled to death, with their chief accomplices, amidst
shouts of joy and fury, imprecations, laughter and dances.

The next day Evariste, who had recovered some strength and could almost
stand on his legs, was taken from his cell, brought before the Tribunal,
and placed on the platform where so many victims, illustrious or
obscure, had sat in succession. Now it groaned under the weight of
seventy individuals, the majority members of the Commune, some jurors,
like Gamelin, outlawed like him. Again he saw the jury-bench, the seat
where he had been accustomed to loll, the place where he had terrorized
unhappy prison