A Place of Greater Safety: A Novel

“No. They keep electing him, and he refuses to serve.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? He wasn’t meant for politics. I’ve never known anyone fight shy of power like he does.”

“He has plenty of power. He prefers it unofficial, that’s all.”

“He baffles me. He baffles you, too, I would suppose. Still, leave that alone—tell me, how’s the beauteous Manon?”

“Still in love, they say. Women in love are supposed to be soft little creatures, aren’t they? You should hear the speeches she writes for her friends in the Convention.”

“Did your baby live?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.” The general looked up. “Listen, Danton. There’s something I want to tell you. But you will have to reciprocate.”

“I love you too.”

“Now it’s you who are flippant. Listen. Pay attention. Roland wrote me a letter. He asked me to turn the armies and march them on Paris. To restore order there. Also, to—as he put it—crush a certain faction. The Jacobins, he meant. Crush Robespierre. And you.”

“I see. You have this letter?”

“Yes. But I won’t give it you. I didn’t tell you this so that you could hale Roland before your Revolutionary Tribunal. I told you to show what you owe to my forbearance.”

“You were tempted to try it?”

“Well, Citizen—how are your friends in Brittany?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come, Danton, you’re too intelligent to waste time like this. You have contacts with the emigre rebels in Brittany. You’re keeping in with them in case they’re successful. You have friends on the Girondist benches and in the House of Commons. You have men with the armies and in every ministry, and you’ve had money from every Court in Europe.” He looked up, propping his chin on his knuckles. “There hasn’t been a pie baked in Europe these last three years that you haven’t had a finger in. How old are you Danton?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Lord. Well, I suppose revolution is a young man’s business.”

“Is there some point to all this, General?”

“Yes. Go back to Paris, and prepare the city for the entry of my armies. Prepare them for a monarchy, a monarchy which will of course be subject entirely to the constitution. The little Dauphin on the throne, Orleans as regent. Best for France, best for me and best for you.”

“No.”

“What will you do, then?”

“I shall go back and indict Roland—and Brissot, too, more to the point. I shall throw them out of the Convention. Robespierre and I will put together our talents and our influence and we will fight our way to a peace settlement. But if Europe won’t make peace—then count on it, I’ll put the whole nation in arms.”

“You believe that? That you can throw the Girondists out of the Convention?”

“Of course I can do it. It may take months, rather than weeks. But I have the resources for it. The ground is prepared for me.”

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

“I’m always tired now. I’ve been trying to struggle out of this bloody business ever since I got into it.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dumouriez said.

“As you please.”

“The Republic is six months old, and it’s flying apart. It has no cohesive force—only a monarchy has that. Surely you can see? We need the monarchy to pull the country together—then we can win the war.”

Danton shook his head.

“Winners make money,” Dumouriez said. “I thought you went where the pickings were richest?”

“I shall maintain the Republic,” Danton said.

“Why?”

“Because it is the only honest thing there is.”

“Honest? With your people in it?”

“It may be that all its parts are corrupted, vicious, but take it altogether, yes, the Republic is an honest endeavor. Yes, it has me, it has Fabre, it has Hebert—but it also has Camille. Camille would have died for it in ’89.”

“In ’89, Camille had no stake in life. Ask him now—now he’s got money and power, now he’s famous. Ask him now if he’s willing to die.”

“It has Robespierre.”