“Why, have you been on the streets?” Roland rather doubted that.
“I’m informed,” Brissot said. “Very fully informed. I’m told he’s their man. They’re yelling their throats out for him. What do you think of that?”
“I wonder,” Roland said, “whether this is a proper beginning for the republic. Shall we be chivvied by the rabble?”
“Where is Vergniaud going?” Brissot asked.
The president had signaled for his substitute. “Please make way for me,” he was asking pleasantly.
Brissot followed Vergniaud with his eyes. It was entirely possible that alliances, factions, pacts would be proposed, framed, broken—and, if he were not everywhere, party to every conversation—the dreadful possibility arose that he might forfeit his status as the best-informed man in France.
“Danton is a complete crook,” Roland said. “Perhaps we should ask him to take over as Minister of Justice?”
By the door Vergniaud, faced with Camille, had been unable to get into his proper oratorical sweep and stride. One quite sees, he said, and one does appreciate, and one fully understands. For the first time in his three-minute tirade, Camille faltered. “Tell me, Vergniaud,” he said, “am I beginning to repeat myself?”
Vergniaud released his indrawn breath. “A little. But really what you have to say is all so fresh and interesting. Finish what you’ve started, you say. In what way?”
Camille made a sweeping gesture, encompassing both the Riding School and the howling streets outside. “I don’t understand why the King isn’t dead. Plenty of better people are dead. And these superfluous deputies? The royalists they’ve crammed into the prisons?”
“But you can’t kill them all.” The orator’s voice shook.
“We do have the capacity.”
“I said ‘can’t’ but I meant ’ought not to.’ Danton wouldn’t require a superfluity of deaths.”
“Would he not? I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for hours. I think he arranged for the Capet family to be brought out of the palace.”
“Yes,” Vergniaud said. “That seems a reasonable supposition. Now, why do you think he did that?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he’s a humanitarian.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“I’m not even sure if I’m awake.”
“I think you should go home, Camille. You are saying all the wrong things.”
“Am I? You are kind. If you were saying the wrong things I’d be, you know, making mental notes.”
“No,” Vergniaud said reassuringly. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes,” Camille insisted. “We don’t trust you.”
“So I see. But I doubt you need spend anymore energy frightening people. Did you not think that we might want Danton anyway? Not because of what he might do if he were denied power—which I am sure would be quite as distasteful as you imply—but because of a belief that he’s the only man who can save the country?”
“No,” Camille said. “That never occurred to me.”
“Don’t you believe it?”
“Yes, but I’ve got used to believing it by myself. It’s been such a long time. And the greatest obstacle has been Danton himself.”
“What is he expecting?”
“He isn’t expecting anything. He’s asleep.”
“Now listen. I intend to address the Assembly. It would be an advantage if the rabble were removed.”
“They were the sovereign people until they put you into power this afternoon. Now they’re the rabble.”
“There are petitioners here asking for the suspension of the Monarchy. The Assembly will decree it. And the calling of a National Convention, to draw up a constitution for the republic. I think now you can go and get some sleep.”
“No, not until I hear it for myself. If I went away now everything might fall apart.”
“Life takes on a persecutory aspect,” Vergniaud murmured. “Let us try to remain rational.”
“It isn’t rational.”
“It will be,” Vergniaud said smoothly. “My colleagues intend to remove government from the sphere of chance and prejudice and make it into a reasoned process.”
Camille shook his head.
“I assure you,” Vergniaud said. He broke off. “There’s a horrible smell. What is it?”
“I think—” Camille hesitated—“I think they’re burning the bodies.”
“Long live the republic,” Vergniaud said. He began to walk towards the president’s dais.
PART FIVE
Terror is nothing other
