surface. “To tell you the truth, it disgusts me that your parents think so badly of me. My wife has been dead a month—do they think I’m a monster?”
That is exactly what they do think, she says to herself. “Have you given up women, then?”
“Probably not forever. For now, yes.”
“Do you think that very moral?”
“I think it shows respect for my wife, who is dead.”
“It would have shown more respect if you had done it while she was alive.”
“We ought not to continue this conversation.”
“Oh, I think we ought. When you come home from Belgium.”
He left Paris on March 17, with Deputy Lacroix at his side. By now they knew each other quite well; he could have told Gabrielle everything she wanted to know.
On March 19 he was in Brussels; but by the time they caught up with Dumouriez, he had lost a battle at Neerwinden. They found him in the thick of a rearguard action: “Meet me in Louvain,” he said.
“What is the Convention anyway?” he asked angrily, that same night. “Three hundred fools, led by two hundred scoundrels.”
“You will at least observe the decencies,” Danton suggested.
The general stared at him. For a moment he saw himself spitted on his sword; but without a toga, it didn’t look quite right.
“I mean,” Danton said, “that you should at least write a letter to the Convention, promising a detailed explanation of your conduct, of your closure of the Jacobins clubs, of your refusal to work with the Convention’s representatives. Oh, and of your defeat.”
“God dammit,” Dumouriez said. “I was promised thirty thousand men. Let the Convention write a letter to me, and explain why they’ve got lost on the way!”
“Do you know there is a move to have you arrested? They are fireeaters, on the Committee of General Security. Deputy Lebas has spoken against you—and I hear he’s a young fellow for whom Robespierre has a high regard. And David too.”
“Committees?” the general said. “Let them try it! In the midst of my armies? What’s David going to do, hit me with his paintbrush?”
“It would be wise not to be flippant, General. Think about the Revolutionary Tribunal. I do not think it will make much distinction between failure and treason, and you are the man who has just lost France a battle. You had better be careful what you say to me, because I am here to judge your attitude and report on it to the Convention and the General Defense Committee.”
He was taken aback. “But Danton—haven’t we been good friends? We’ve worked together—in God’s name, I hardly recognize you. What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the effect of prolonged sexual abstinence.”
The general looked up into Danton’s face. It yielded nothing. Again, turning away, he muttered, “
“Committees are effective, General. So we are beginning to find. If the members work together, and work hard, then it is surprising how much can be achieved. Committees will soon be running the Revolution. The ministers already act under their surveillance. It is not so important to be a minister, these days.”
“Yes—what did I hear—about the ministers being prevented from going to the Convention?”
“A temporary detention only. The mob barricaded them into the Foreign Ministry to prevent them interfering with the debate. The Minister of War, you may be glad to know, showed a bold martial character, and escaped by vaulting over a wall.”
“This is no joke,” the general said. “This is anarchy.”
“I wanted my measures passed,” Danton said.
Dumouriez allowed himself to fold into a chair. He rested his forehead on a clenched fist. “Christ,” he said, “I’m done for. At my age a man should be thinking of retirement. Tell me, Danton, how is it in Paris? How are all my devoted friends? Marat, for instance?”
“The doctor is the same. A little yellower, perhaps, rather more shrunken. He takes special baths now, to soothe his pains.”
“Any baths would be an improvement,” the general muttered. “Quite ordinary ones.”
“They keep him at home sometimes, the special baths. I’m afraid they don’t improve his temper.”
“Camille can still talk to him?”
“Oh yes. We have a line of communication. It is necessary—his influence over the people has no rival. Hebert dreams that one day he may have as much. But, when you come down to it, people aren’t fools.”
“And young Citizen Robespierre?”
“Looking older. Working hard.”
“Not married that gawky girl yet?”
“No. He’s sleeping with her, though.”
“Is he now?” The general raised his eyebrows. “It’s an advance, I suppose. But when you think of the good time he could have, if he wanted … it’s a tragedy, Danton, a tragedy. I suppose he is not sitting on any of these committees?”
