Robespierre felt now that he was lost. Flight had become impossible. The one remaining means of escape was by the little grating of the men's courtyard. He tried to reach it, still walking backwards, without once losing sight of the apparitions, his arms stretched behind him, every muscle strained, and both hands clenched convulsively. He soon came in contact with the grating, and tried to push it open with his back. Not succeeding he abruptly turned round. It was locked! He tried madly to force it, but the massive iron bars proved too much for his strength. He seized and shook the lattice in his agony. The rattling noise made him turn quickly, thinking all the spectres had come down upon him. But no! They stood still in the same places, motionless, and apparently unconscious of his presence. But this could not last; ... they must see him sooner or later! And if he were seen he would surely be the prey of these arisen tenants of the tomb! He wiped the cold sweat from his brow, panting and breathless, and made a sudden frantic effort in his overwhelming panic to repel the ghastly vision, turning away from it. "It is absurd! The dead never return!" he cried, stamping violently. He persuaded himself that it was only necessary to disbelieve in it and the vision would fade, to refuse to look, and he would no longer see the phantoms. He then turned round boldly, as if to prove his words. Every eye was upon him. They appeared terrible in the awful majesty of their wrongs, as if accusing him, as if judging him. He remained motionless, terror-stricken. Yes, they were all looking at him! Slowly, silently they glided towards him. "Oh! no further! no further!" he cried. "I implore you! I am frightened!..." Every limb trembled, as he thus prayed them to desist. "Oh yes! I know what you are going to say, I see the word trembling on your lips: 'Assassin!'" The victims seemed to him to bend their heads in mute assent. He feared they would speak, and hastened to prevent them.... Yes, he was an assassin, he knew it! ... It was just and right they should call him so! He knew, yes, he knew, what they wanted of him.... He must set free the prisoners, overthrow the scaffold? The victims again nodded approval. Yes! ... Yes! ... he would do everything, anything they asked. He swore it to them.... "But in pity go! I entreat you! Oh go! in pity, go and leave me!" The spectres remained motionless, their eyes still fixed upon him. "Mercy!" he cried. "Have mercy!" Yes, mercy! ... he begged for mercy! Their looks would kill him! He could not bear it any longer! It was too much! His fright now bordered on madness, and he cried out: "Let me alone! I am frightened! horribly frightened!" So saying he tottered forward, ready to drop from exhaustion, and tried to grasp the back of the chair for support. But it gave way. "Help! help!" he screamed. "Hullo! who's calling?" cried a voice outside.