We know it; and we arrest her."
"I resist the arrest," cried Danville. "I am the authority here.
Who opposes me?"
The impassible chief agent made no answer. Some new noise in the
street struck his quick ear. He ran to the window and looked out
eagerly.
"Who opposes me?" reiterated Danville.
"Hark!" exclaimed Lomaque, raising his hand. "Silence, and
listen!"
The heavy, dull tramp of men marching together became audible as
he spoke. Voices humming low and in unison the Marseillaise hymn,
joined solemnly with the heavy, regular footfalls. Soon the flare
of torch-light began to glimmer redder and redder under the dim,
starlight sky.
"Do you hear that? Do you see the advancing torch-light?" cried
Lomaque, pointing exultingly into the street. "Respect to the
national hymn, and to the man who holds in the hollow of his hand
the destinies of all France! Hat off, Citizen Danville!
Robespierre is in the street. His bodyguard, the Hard-hitters,
are lighting him on his way to the Jacobin Club! Who shall oppose
you, did you say? Your master and mine; the man whose signature
is at the bottom of this order--the man who with a scratch of his
pen can send both our heads rolling together into the sack of the
guillotine! Shall I call to him as he passes the house? Shall I
tell him that Superintendent Danville resists me in making an
arrest? Shall I? Shall I?" And in the immensity of his contempt,
Lomaque seemed absolutely to rise in stature, as he thrust the
arrest order under Danville's eyes and pointed to the signature
with the head of his stick.
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