On that evening, we all went to the Jacobins; M. Duplay and myself in the superior hall, and the three women and Félicién in the inferior, where a society was held, called the Society of the Two Sexes. During my absence from Paris, Robespierre had acquired a great popularity, to which he had succeeded by degrees. He had still the same voice, though, perhaps, he spoke a little stronger than the last time that I had heard him; and I fancied that I noted a marked progress in his intonation, but still the same spinning-out of his facts. He had just finished his discourse, when a great disturbance was heard. It was the Cordeliers’ Club, which, in the persons of Danton and Legendre, had made an irruption among the Jacobins. They were neither vague nor lengthy in their demands. Danton, in an outburst of ironic thunder, demanded how the Society dared to take upon itself to pronounce reformed opinions before the nation had done so? Legendre directly attacked the King—called to reason the societies who, working in an underground manner, undermined the decisions of the Assembly, and terminated in saying, “What I say is for the good of the Assembly itself.” There was almost a menace expressed in these last words. Keeping calm and cold during Robespierre’s speech, M. de Laclos, the intendant of the Duc d’Orleans, applauded vehemently Danton and Legendre. The Constitutionals of the Assembly got up, and went out. Danton and Laclos conferred together an instant in a whisper; then a voice was heard, crying, “Open the doors for the public deputies!” The doors opened, and there entered the fraternal Society of the Halles, and the Society of the Two Sexes, which held its meetings in the Lower Hall. They carried addresses against the Assembly, or, rather, against the monarchy. Preoccupied with Danton and Legendre, I lost a part of the thread of what passed at the tribune. A young surgeon read a letter, which had been written in the Palais Royal in the presence of three hundred persons. A bishop threw himself into his arms, and urged him to oppose the deputies. Robespierre looked on with his sardonic smile; Danton, Legendre, and Laclos with a hateful grin. Robespierre saw not what was going on on the other side of Paris, but probably Danton knew; and that was what he was recounting in a whisper to Laclos, and what Laclos was listening to with such attention. On the other side of Paris was a club—a fraternal society,—in the midst of which rested a young man, who was secretary to the club, in oblivion. This young man one day emerged from his obscurity, to raise around him a gigantic storm, after which he again subsided into mediocrity. The name of this young man was Callieu. What was Callieu doing in this fraternal society? Almost nothing. He prepared an address against the Assembly, signed “_The People!_”