“If you want anything, call me.” Lucile trailed towards her bedroom; did a detour, to pick up a bottle that contained three inches of flat champagne. She was tempted to drink it, but then reflected that there was nothing more unpleasant. It seemed a week since these bottles were opened.
The very thought made her queasy. Jeanette came up behind her; she jumped violently. “Lie down now, my sweetheart,” the woman said. “You won’t make any difference by trying to stay upright.” The grim set of her mouth said: I love him, too, you know.
At 6 a.m. the King decided to inspect the National Guard. He descended to the courtyards of the palace. He wore a sad purple coat, and carried his hat under his arm. It was an unhappy business. The noblemen outside his suite dropped to their knees as he approached and murmured their words of allegiance; but the National Guardsmen insulted him, and a gunner shook a fist in his face.
Rue Saint-Honore: “Some breakfast?” said Eleonore Duplay.
“I don’t think so, Eleonore.”
“Max, why not eat?”
“Because I never eat at this hour,” Robespierre said. “At this hour I answer my letters.”
Babette at the door. Round morning face. “Father sent this up. Danton is signing proclamations at City Hall.”
Robespierre let the document lie on his desk. He did not touch it, but ran his eyes to the signature. “In the name of the nation—DANTON.”
“So Danton claims to speak for the nation?” Eleonore said. She watched his face.
“Danton is an excellent patriot. Only—I thought he would have sent for me by now.”
“They dare not risk your life.”
Robespierre looked up. “Oh no, that’s not it. I think Danton doesn’t want me to—what shall we say?—study his methods.”
“That may be so,” Eleonore agreed. What did it matter? She would say anything: anything that would keep him safe behind Duplay’s wall, that would keep his heart beating till tomorrow and tomorrow and the day after that.
It was perhaps 7:30 in the morning when the patriots trained their big guns on the palace. Behind those guns were all the weapons the Insurrectionary Commune could find: muskets, sabers, cutlasses and rank upon rank of the sacred pike. The rebel thousands sang the “Marseillaise.”
Louis: What do they want?
Camille slept for an hour with his head on his wife’s shoulder.
“Danton.” Roederer looked up at the apparition blocking the doorway. “Danton, you’re drunk.”
“I’ve been drinking to keep awake.”
“What do you want?” With me, Roederer meant. His fright showed clearly on his face. “Danton, I am not a royalist, whatever you may think. I was at the Tuileries because I was commanded there. But I hope you and your commanders know what you’re doing. You must understand that the carnage will be terrible. The Swiss will fight to the last man.”
“So I’m told,” Danton said. “I want you to go back there.”
“Back?” Roederer gaped at him.
“I want you to get the King out.”
“Out?”
“Stop repeating what I say, imbecile. I want you to get the King out and in doing so force him to abandon the defense. I want you to go back now and tell Louis and tell Antoinette that they’ll be dead within hours unless they leave the palace, call off the resistance and put themselves under the protection of the Assembly.”
“You want to save them? Do I understand you?
I believe I’m making myself plain.”
“But how am I to do it? They won’t listen to me.”
“You must tell them that once the mob gets into the palace there is nothing I can do. The devil himself won’t be able to save them then.”
“But you
“This is becoming tedious. We must have the King and the Dauphin at all costs. The others matter less, though I dislike seeing women harmed.”
“Costs,” the lawyer repeated. Something seemed to take shape in his tired brain. “Costs, Danton. Now I see.”
Danton launched himself across the room. He grabbed Roederer’s coat front and wrapped a hand round the man’s throat. “You will bring them out or you will answer to me. I shall be watching you, Roederer.”
Choking, Roederer put out a hand, clawing at Danton’s arm. The room was spinning. I shall die, he thought. He struggled for breath and his ears roared. Danton flung him to the floor. “That was the first cannon fire. They are attacking the palace now.”
Roederer looked up, propping himself weakly on one arm, along the column of Danton’s heavy body to his savage face. “Now get them out for me.”
“A clothes brush, I think,” Camille said. “We are supposed to be distinguishing ourselves from the rabble. So Danton says.” He looped the tricolor sash over his shoulder. “Am I presentable?”
“Oh, you could take your morning chocolate with a duchess. Supposing there were one left to take it with. But what now?” Lucile could not keep the fear off her face for long.
