Dossonville kissed her with more feeling than he had believed possible, and said, through the tears that clouded his eyes, "I would have saved you." "Do not grieve," she said, touched by his sorrow. She took her scarf and put it into his hand, saying: "Give it to him. Tell him that I am happy--that it is best so. Adieu!" Then, as though fearing to lose her self-control, she pressed his hand and hurried away. Dossonville, passing out by a side entrance, hastened to meet the slow procession across the river. The city was in uproar; over the roofs the bells were crying the civil strife, while every street seemed to give forth the thunder of drums. Masses of volunteers, without formation or leader, swept the boulevards, while the air was charged with the conflict of shouts: "Vive la Commune!" "À bas les Jacobins!" "Vive Robespierre!" "Robespierre à la Guillotine!" The chariots crossed from the gates of the Conciergerie, acclaimed by the hoots and jeers of the daily hordes of mad women who gathered to shriek their foul abuse and frantic revilings. But as the tumbrels passed the river the insults ceased, replaced by murmurs of sympathy. In the third chariot Dossonville found Nicole. The duchess, with her brilliant cheeks, was on the same bench, and between the two women the boy, his hand in Nicole's. From the direction of the Convention came wild rumors of Robespierre's defeat. The crowd, increasing, began to cry: "Enough blood!" "No more blood!" "Pity on the condemned!" Dossonville, hardly daring to hope, noticed that Sanson examined the crowd anxiously--a not unfriendly glance. The demonstration continued, growing bolder, a hundred voices insisting: "Enough blood!" "No more victims!" "Stop the massacre!" Among the prisoners several, unable to resist the sudden leap of hope to their eyes, stretched out their hands, crying: "We are innocent!" In the first chariot Cramoisin, in a frenzy, was shouting: "Citoyens, do not mistake me. I am a republican. Vive la République! Save me, at least!" Nicole was speaking to the boy; for the new vision of life had made him tremble. Amid the leaping floods of humanity she remained calm, a certain maternal sweetness and repose enveloping her as she sought to fortify the resolution of her companion. To Dossonville, through the rising storm of sound and swaying of bodies, a lull of peace seemed to surround her and to remove her from the frenzy. Again the revolt rose in him that she should die thus. Perceiving all at once that the crowd had pressed about the carts until their progress was impeded, he flung himself into the swirl, exhorting and encouraging. The cries redoubled, becoming more threatening: "Save them!" "Enough butchery!" "On, comrades! Save them!" "Aye, deliver them!" "Stop the chariots!" "Unhitch the horses! Unhitch the horses!"