He raised his eyes-they looked earnest. Before he began to speak he looked sharply at me.

"Anatole," he said, in a low voice, "it is easy to see that thou hast not been long in Paris. Dost thou know what it means to withdraw two persons from under the knife of the guillotine? Thou dost not know their crimes against the nation."

'But, Lebas, a woman, an innocent scholar at the college, only sixteen years of age."

"Innocent? The republic is imperilled; any one who at this moment draws on himself even a shadow of guilt must be annihilated. I grant that many a man may die innocent, but that does not effect us. Better a thousand sacrificed, than millions hurled into misery." Lebas's face underwent a strange alteration; his features assumed a savage aspect; his gesticulations grew violent and menacing.

"But supposing," I interposed, "that an innocent person can be saved? If it should be proved that a Frenchman, a citizen has been only rendered suspect by accident? Is it not a duty to save a life, a duty to preserve a citizen to the state? Lebas, remember thy wife, thy mother-remember the changes in life. Perhaps some day a compassionate man will have mercy on thy child, which is now sleeping on thy wife's bosom-perhaps in a few days thou wilt no longer be alive. Lebas, days fly past as rapidly as hours, the storm-winds of the Revolution drive them on, and Danton cried, 'My enemies will not long survive me!"" Lebas bowed his head; he pressed my hand, and his mouth was contracted by a smile of pain. "Let what will come, we are agreed," he said. "As regards thy protégés, I will make every effort; thou must speak with Robespierre. Saint Just is with him now; they have been working all night. Wait till Robespierre is dressed, down there in the court, till I summon thee. He is sitting up there in the gallery, and having his hair curled; when he has finished thou shall have an audience. I will look through the lists first to find out the crime of the Lepelletiers, and then speak to Robespierre."

Lebas left me. I went, full of anxious

expectation, into the court. In it boards, beams, and similar supplies were piled up. A workman was sawing planks. In the corner of the court was a small fountain, vines crept along the walls, pigeons flew about; there was deep silence, only interrupted by the laughter of the watch and the grating of the saw. I leaned against the wall, and kept my eyes fixed on the man whom Lebas had pointed out to me. It was Robespierre. A gallery ran round the house. Upon this opened the first-floor windows, as well as Robespierre's. Whenever the weather was favorable he would have his hair curled in the gallery, and such, was the case to-day.

He was wrapped in a powdering-cloak, and by his side was a small stool, on which stood a plate of fruit, some slices of bread, and a small glass of wine. I could not notice his face, for he read papers while being curled. Not far from him reposed an enormously large dog; its name was Brouet, and it was Robes pierre's favorite.

The hairdresser wore

à Jacobin cap, but in other respects was very clean. The door of Robespierre's room was open, and now and then the reader looked up, and seemed to be inhaling the spring air.

At length the hairdresser left, and almost at the same moment Lebas appeared on the gallery. My neck became elongated, my eyes were intently fixed on the couple, my blood stood still. My affair was now being discussed. I could, however, only catch some unconnected words. I saw that Robespierre grew violent, that Lebas also gesticulated fiercely, and pointed to papers he held in his hand; then Robespierre turned his head towards the door of the room, and said something. It appeared to me as if a voice answered from the room. length he got up, walked into the room, and banged the door after him. A few minutes after Lebas was by my side.

At

Thy matter has gone well so far,” he said, hastily; "but I do not believe thou canst save both. The woman, hardly. She is seriously compromised. Her landlord, a tailor, ruined her, for he induced her to keep letters to the Coblenz émigrés in her room; by giving himself out as a representative, he has led many citi zens astray. The young man, François,

carried letters of traitorous purport to a certain agent of the émigrés; but his crime is less, as he acted without knowledge. Present thyself to Robespierre as if perfectly ignorant of this. Come."

We went up the stairs. I can not tell you how I got into Robespierre's room. Before I had collected my thoughts I was standing before the terrible man. There was nothing to produce an alarming effect on the senses. Plain whitewashed walls, a walnut-wood bedstead, over it a white coverlet worked with pink flowers; a table covered with oilcloth, a few strawbottomed chairs-such was the furniture of the little room. On the left of the entrance were some book-shelves, littered with papers, a few books, and pamphlets. On the window-sill stood pretty flowers in pots, round which butterflies were sporting. At the table a man was sitting, and reading. Robespierre was standing by the side of his bed, with his right hand on its backboard.

The passions and hatred which his arbitrary measures excited against him, have frequently attempted to make the man's appearance, his face, his voice, agree with the sanguinary orders he is sued that is to say, the formidable man must resemble a hyena or tiger, his voice sound like the croak of a carrion crow, and so on. All this is false. Robespierre's face, on the contrary, had a gentle expression; his forehead was high, and slightly wrinkled; his eyes, generally half closed, were fiery when he raised them; his shapely nose displayed large nostrils, which moved when he spoke; his face was thin, and of the color of ivory; when he spoke kindly, a winning friendliness played round the corners of his lips, but at other times they were firmly closed. He had remarkably fine teeth and hair; his figure was slim and well built, his chest broad, and his voice, not at all harsh, rang sharp in moments of excitement, but was generally soft, and almost halting. He gesticulated very little while speaking. His dress was excessively neat: a grey coat with polished buttons, a striped waistcoat, dark breeches, and half boots. A carefully plaited jabot formed his narrow snowwhite neckcloth.

"Anatole Mesnard, I know thee again," such were Robespierre's first words to me.

NEW SERIES.-VOL. I. No. 6.

"I am glad, citizen representative, that thou rememberest me.

"Thy family is well known to me. You are lukewarm, but not hostile. Selfsacrifice can not be expected from everybody; hence I am the more surprised that thou hast formed the resolution to venture a prayer for suspects."

"Because I am capable of the self-sacrifice, citizen representative."

"What does that mean?" Robespierre asked, watchfully.

"I was conscious that I should risk my life if I ventured a word on behalf of my compromised friends. Dost thou not believe, citizen representative, that at the present day it requires as much courage to implore thy mercy for a condemned person as to storm a hostile battery, behind which the enemies of the nation are concealed?"

Robespierre's eyes flashed.

"That is

true," he said, phlegmatically. "Life and death are in the hands of the Convention. Why do not the light-minded people think of that? The Convention is the voice of the nation; it cries loudly and powerfully. I can not understand why so many persons will not hear it. Still more incomprehensible are beings like thy friends. What do they not see our life? Look around thee, this modest room is my whole empire; my table is that of my landlord, an artisan. I possess no estates, no treasures; what thou seest here is everything I call mine; there is no stain on my life or that of my friends-well, go and compare with it the orgies of the émigrés at Coblentz! Listen with what contempt even the Prussian troops speak of those miserable Frenchmen, who are a curse to the country in which they have sought shelter-hear it, and then say to me, how is it possible that French citizens can condescend to support such people against the nation? Thy friends have been guilty of this villany."

He then explained to me, in fuller detail, what Lebas had but cursorily told me. His tone was shrill when he spoke; he kept his eyes fixed upon me, and I could not divert mine from his; I thought involuntarily of the fable of the serpent fascinating birds.

Lebas noticed that, as I followed the flood of Robespierre's eloquence, I con

47

er's arm,

The affair was dangerous. Lebas parried the blow.

"Maximilien, do not go too far," he said. "I have already explained to thee why our friend Mesnard acted thus. Thou hast thyself allowed that it is more dangerous to risk a prayer for compromised persons, than to rush upon the foe-well, then, does not our friend's courage deserve a reward? We have no external symbols, so reward the republican devotion of Anatole, which did not shun death, with an order for the release of the prisoners. Anatole is returning to Arras-shall he daily pass the house of thy birth in grief and sorrow, because thou hast refused him the liberation of a woman and of a poor, misguided, blinded boy?-he who has staked his head? François Lepelletier and his sister-in-law are worthy of being commended to the mercy of the Convention; let them return to their, to thy, native town-let them enter as free citizens within those walls from which thou camest to save the nation."

Robespierre reflected for a moment; then he gave Lebas an earnest look and walked to the table. "Thank fortune," he said to me, "that thou comest from Arras, and hast Lebas for a friend."

He seized a stamped paper and dipped the pen in the ink. I began to breathe more freely. Suddenly the man, who had hitherto been reading so busily, rose. It was St. Just. I never saw a more interesting masculine beauty. Few faces displayed so much gentleness, combined with such energy. St. Just was at that time six-and-twenty years of age. He looked like a martyr; the old painters impressed such earnestness, such beauty on their heroes, when they represented them undergoing death in honor

Marion Lepelletier was lost.

"What, art thou of opinion, Antoine, that I ought not?" Robespierre asked.

"Thou darest not," St. Just said, firmly; "women are the worst. This one acted with perfect knowledge of the consequences. Shall it be said that the people of Arras form an exception in the eye of the law? Moreover, the woman is an aristocrat by birth, who could not live with her patriotic husband. And you would save such vermin? Lebas, wilt thou accept the responsibility?"

St. Just was fearful to look upon, his awful beauty had such an imposing effect, that any words of protest stuck in my throat. Lebas shrugged his shoulders and was silent. Robespierre wrote a few lines. While writing, he said: "Enough talking: the woman dies."

St. Just was reading his newspaper again. Lebas nodded to me, and I locked up my sorrow in my breast. Robespierre gave the paper to Lebas. "Send Simon with this to the Luxembourg. The young man will be set at liberty. I trust he will bear it in mind: people do not escape twice so easily when they have committed a crime against the nation." I stammered my thanks. Robespierre offered me his hand.

"Remember me to friends in Arras, citizen Mesnard, and to thy parents. Do not be negligent in thy duties. Now good morning. Thou hast detained me long enough."

Lebas made me a sign. The door of Robespierre's room soon closed after us. The air appeared to be lighter and more balmy, the sky higher, the sun more beaming. At any rate, I had saved one life, and the lion's den-Robespierre's room-luckily lay behind me!

"Thank Heaven," said Lebas, "that thou hast liberated one. The woman, I knew from the first, was not to be saved."

On the same afternoon I quitted Paris with my protégé. At six o'clock on the following morning he was clasped in his mother's arms. Her joy, and the delight