"In a moment we were pushed about and separated. François, our thief, was cuffed and kicked hither and thither. The silence became an uproar of wild cries. ’He is dead! Robespierre is dead!’ It was a great madness of release from fear, and a tumult of cries, sharp and hoarse—an outburst of human emotion, sudden and strange to see. Near me a woman fell in a fit. Men ran about yelling, ’He is dead!’ All was confusion and tears and mad laughter, any one embracing the citizen next to him. There were others who ran here and there through the crowd, jumping up and down, or catching some woman and whirling her as if in a dance. I lost sight of the Duke, and Mama, and the thief, who kept hold of this my friend; but no one of them all did I see again until late that night. "As I was now where I knew my way, I went to and fro, afraid to ask questions, until I got to the quay. There I saw a lad of my own years, and it being by this time quite near to dark, I felt that I had a good chance to run at need. ’Halloa!’ I said. ’I am a boy from the country. What is the news?’ "’Oh, a fine sight, and you have missed it. They have cut off the heads of Robespierre and Henriot and twenty more. He had nankeen breeches and a blue coat, and my father says that is the end of the Terror. You ought to have got there three hours ago. Chop—chop—like carrots.’ "Now I was old enough to have heard much of Robespierre, and to have some idea of the great relief his death might mean. So I thanked my news-teller, and ran as fast as I could go to my home, in this present house. I stood, however, a moment, uneasy, at the opening of the long covered way. Of a sudden I screamed, for a man caught me by the arm. _Mon Dieu_! It was our neighbor, the charcutier opposite. "He said, ’Have no fear, my lad. Fear is dead to-day. Get thee home; they look for thee. Robespierre is dead. _À bas les Jacobins!_’