But this peaceful life at Versailles was only the lull before the storm. Andre's efforts to prevent an arrest (of a lady) for which orders had been given by the Committee of Public Safety, led to his own imprisonment. He spent his time in Saint-Lazare in revising his manuscripts and writing some of his grandest and most beautiful poems, among others the two famous ones to the Duchesse de Fleury, née Coigny (_La jeune Captive_, and the lines incorrectly entitled _Mademoiselle de Coigny_), and the beautiful fragment which begins "Comme un dernier rayon." He was denounced before the tribunal of the Revolution as an enemy of the people, and was condemned to death for having "written against liberty and in defence of tyranny." The day before this happened he had written the lines: "Comme un dernier rayon, comme un dernier zéphyre Anime la fin d'un beau jour, Au pied de l'échafaud j'essaye encor ma lyre. Peut-être est-ce bientôt mon tour. Peut-être avant que l'heure en cercle promenée Ait posé sur l'émail brillant, Dans les soixante pas où sa route est bornée. Son pied sonore et vigilant, Le sommeil du tombeau pressera ma paupière. Avant que de ses deux moitiés Ce vers que je commence ait atteint la dernière, Peut-être en ces murs effrayés Le messager de mort, noir recruteur des ombres Escorté d'infâmes soldats, Remplira de mon nom ces longs corridors sombres." On the evening of the 7th Thermidor 1794, the eve of Robespierre's fall, which, if it had happened a day earlier, would have saved him, André Chénier mounted the scaffold. As they were being driven to the place of execution, he said despondently to Roucher, the painter, who was guillotined along with him: "Alas! I have done nothing for posterity." Tradition tells that on the scaffold he struck his forehead, exclaiming: "Yet I had something there!" Although André Chénier's prose articles had aroused much attention, even abroad--Wieland sent him greetings, the King of Poland sent him a medal--he won no fame as a poet during his lifetime. He had published only two of his poems, the Ode to David on the occasion of the scene in the Tennis Court, and the ironic Ode to the Chateauvieux Regiment; and from that July day in 1794 when his head was severed from his body, his name was forgotten; the memory of him vanished.