“Very well,” Robespierre said. “But another time, I should prefer not to conduct these arguments in my own house.”
All the Duplays were present in the salon. He looked around them. The room was live with tension; his skin crawled. “What is this?” he asked gently. “I don’t understand.”
No one spoke. Babette sat alone at the big table, as if she were facing some sort of commission. He bent to kiss her forehead. “If I’d known you were here, I’d have cut this stupid argument short. Well?”
Still no one spoke. Seeing nothing else to do, he pulled up a chair and sat down beside her at the table. She gave him her soft little hand. Babette was five or six months pregnant, round and flushed and pretty. She was only a few months older than Danton’s little child bride, and he could not look at her without an uprush of fear.
Maurice was sitting on a stool by the fire, his head lowered: as if he had heard something that had humbled him. But now he cleared his throat, and looked up. “You’ve been a son to us,” he said.
“Oh, come now,” Robespierre said. He smiled, squeezed Babette’s hand. “This is beginning to seem like the third act of some dreadful play.”
“It is an ordeal for the girl,” Duplay said.
“It’s all right,” Elisabeth said. She dropped her head, blushed; her china-blue eyes were half-hidden by their lids. Saint-Just leaned against the wall, his own eyes half-closed.
Philippe Lebas took up his station behind Babette’s chair. He wrapped his fingers tightly round the back of it. Robespierre glanced up at him. “Citizen, what is this?”
“You were debating the character of Citizen Danton,” Babette said softly. “I know nothing of politics, it is not a woman’s province.”
“If you want to have your say, you can do. In my opinion, women have as much discernment as men.” He gave Saint-Just a venomous glance, begging contradiction. Saint-Just smiled lazily.
“I thought you might like to know what happened to me.”
“When?”
“Let her tell you in her own way,” Duplay said.
Babette slid her hand out of his. She joined her fingers on the polished tabletop, and her face was dimly reflected in it as she began to speak. “You remember when I went to Sevres, last autumn? Mother thought I needed some fresh air, so I went to stay with Citizeness Panis.”
Citizeness Panis: respectable wife of a Paris deputy, Etienne Panis: a good Montagnard, with a record of sterling service on August 10, the day the monarchs were overthrown.
“I remember,” Robespierre said. “Not the date—it would be October, November?”
“Yes—well, Citizen Danton was there at that time, with Louise. I thought it would be nice to call on her. She’s nearly the same age as me, and I thought she might be lonely, and want someone to talk to. I’d been thinking, you know, about what she has to put up with.”
“What is that?”
“Well, some people say that her husband married her for love, and other people say he married her because she was happy to look after his children and run his household while he was occupied with Citizeness Desmoulins. Though most people say, of course, that the Citizeness likes General Dillon best.”
“Babette, keep to the point,” Lebas said.
“So I went to call on her, and she wasn’t at home. And Citizen Danton was. He can be—well, very pleasant, quite charming. I felt a bit sorry for him—he was the one who seemed to need someone to talk to, and I thought, perhaps Louise is not very intelligent. He said, stay and keep me company.”
“She didn’t realize that they were alone in the house,” Lebas said.
“No, of course—I had no way of knowing. We talked: about this and that. Of course, I had no idea what it was leading up to.”
“And what was it leading up to?” Robespierre sounded faintly impatient.
She looked up at him. “Don’t be angry with me.”
“No, of course—I’m not angry. Did I sound angry? I’m sorry. Now, the thing is—Danton made some remark, in the course of your conversation, which you feel you must report. You are a good girl, and you are doing what you see as your duty. No one will blame you for that. Tell me what he said—and then I can see what weight to give it.”
“No, no,” Mme. Duplay said faintly. “He is so good. He has no idea of half the things that happen in the world.”
He glared at the interruption. “Now, Babette.” He took her hand again, or did rather less than that: he placed the tips of his fingers against the back of her hand.
“Come on,” her husband said: more roughly than he would have liked. “Say what happened, Babette.”
“Oh, he put his arm around me. I didn’t want to make a fuss—one must grow up, I suppose, and after all—he put his hand inside my dress, but I thought, of course, he’s been seen in the most respectable company to—well, I mean the things he has done with Citizeness Desmoulins, I have heard people say that he has quite fallen upon her, in public, and of course that it is of no consequence, because he won’t actually go to the extreme. All the same, I did try very hard to pull away from him. But he is a very strong man you know, and the words he used—I couldn’t repeat them—”
“I think you must,” Robespierre said. His voice was frozen.
“Oh, he said that he wanted to show me how much better it could be with a man who had experience with women than with some high-minded Robespierrist virgin—then he tried—” She put her hands, fingers interlaced, before her face. Her voice came almost inaudibly from behind them. “Of course, I struggled. He said, your sister
