"But his dark designs are unveiled!" continues Tallien. "We shall crush the tyrant before he has succeeded in swelling the river of blood with which France is already inundated. His long and successful career of crime has made him forget his habitual prudence. He has betrayed himself at the very moment of triumph, when nothing is wanting to him but the name of king! ... I also was at the Jacobins' yesterday, and I trembled for the Republic when I saw the vast army that flocked to the standard of this new Cromwell. I invoked the shade of Brutus, and if the Convention will not have recourse to the sword of justice to crush this tyrant, I am armed with a dagger that shall pierce his heart!" Tallien makes a movement as if to rush on Robespierre dagger in hand; but he is arrested by a burst of unanimous applause. A hundred deputies have risen and are calling out: "Bravo, Tallien! Bravo!" The orator, in an attitude of defiance, gazes steadily at Robespierre, who, grasping convulsively at the railings of the tribune, screams himself hoarse, challenging Tallien and the deputies around, while they answer him with abuse, shaking their fists in his face. It is a veritable Babel of cries, appeals, and insults. The President, now upstanding, vainly tries to restore order with his bell. At last there is a lull, of which Robespierre attempts to take advantage. "Vile wretches!" he cries, "would you condemn me unheard?" But he is answered by a telling home-thrust-- "It is your own Prairial law we are putting into force!" And applause breaks out again louder than ever. Robespierre, tired of struggling against the rough gang on the stairway, descends to the centre of the semicircle, and addresses the deputies of the Mountain. "Give me a hearing! _citoyens_! I pray you give me speech!" He was answered by an ominous cry-- "No! no! The arrest! To the votes for the arrest!" To the votes! The arrest! Robespierre recoils in terror at the fearful words. His looks travel to the deputies of the centre, those of the Plain as they are called. "It is to the Plain I address myself and not to these traitors!" he exclaims. But the Plain remains impassive. Shouts are now heard from all sides, "The arrest! The arrest!" Not a single voice mediates in his favour! Not one dares to defend his cause! The crowd in the gallery have remained silent and unmoved from the very outset of the stormy scene. A cry of anguish rises to Robespierre's lips. "Villains! Wretches!" he gasps. But his voice is again drowned. "You are the villain! To death with the tyrant! To death with him! To the vote for his arrest! To the vote for his arrest!" Robespierre, now completely exhausted, makes one supreme effort, addressing himself to Thuriot, who is still vainly trying to restore silence with his bell. "President of assassins, for the last time I demand the right of speech." "No! No!" cry all the deputies. "Then decree my murder...."