Then Urbain would recollect him? What was he like? His face? The colour of his eyes? But that was too much to ask. He was in such a state, so broken down. How was he dressed? Urbain could just remember. He described the costume: grey carmagnole and breeches, black and grey striped waistcoat. It was Olivier's costume! There was no longer any possible doubt. It was he! "It is he! It is he!" she kept repeating, falling at last into a chair, on the point of swooning. At this moment the door opened and a man appeared, who without crossing the threshold signed to the servant, to whom he spoke in a whisper. Urbain came towards Clarisse and delivered the message. "The _citoyen_ Robespierre wishes to speak with you." "Where is he? Oh! let him come! let him come!" she cried through her blinding tears. The man left the room followed by Urbain. Clarisse waited in breathless suspense, her eyes fixed in mute agony on the half-opened door. The Incorruptible came in, and before he had time to greet her, she had risen and was standing before him. "My son? Where is my son?" "Be assured, your son is safe." She recoiled a step and fixed her eyes on him in amazed silence. So it was true, the young man who had been arrested was Olivier! Robespierre, greatly agitated, again essayed to reassure her, but she interrupted him eagerly. Where was he? In prison? Robespierre lowered his eyes. What! Had Olivier been sent to prison by him? Ah! things had come to a pretty pass. He was then the gaoler of his own son! Robespierre made a gesture as if to protest. Then, mastering with difficulty his emotion, he explained everything. He had kept Olivier in prison as the only means of saving him. Had the lad been released he would have been reimprisoned by the Committee of Public Safety, who would have sent him to the scaffold, if it were only to show Robespierre that he had no right to grant a pardon! But Olivier would be free now. Lebas was at that very moment at La Force prison, and would soon bring him secretly from thence to them. Olivier should remain with his mother and Thérèse until the day when they could all three leave without danger, and seek safety in the provinces. Clarisse listened, now calm and reassured. But how had Robespierre known? "Who he was? Oh, in the most unexpected manner, with the assistance of some letters found in his valise, for he absolutely refused to give me his name." Clarisse looked at Robespierre with a new fear in her eyes. Then he had seen him? Olivier knew the terrible secret of his birth? "Oh, no!" replied the Incorruptible sadly, "don't be uneasy about that. I have not said a word, to lessen his love and trust in you, or disarm the bitter hatred he has for me, which avenges you too well..."