Clarisse and Thérèse crossed over to the other exit. But through the door they had just left a fearful cry entered, and nailed them to the spot. "This way! Follow me!" It was Olivier's voice! Robespierre recognised it also, and was struck dumb with horror! All three fastened their eyes on the door in agonised suspense. Olivier, all dishevelled, his clothes in disorder, appeared on the threshold. His eyes met Robespierre's, who was standing near the platform. He rushed on him, pistol in his hand, exclaiming-- "Ah! villain. You will kill no one else, now!" and was about to fire, but Clarisse threw herself on him, and held his arm. "Oh! you, Olivier! you of all the world! Oh! horror!" And she tore the pistol from his grasp and flung it away. He looked first at her, then at Thérèse, bewildered at their presence. Robespierre, still grasping his pistol, silently watched the scene. His son's act was his death-blow. Deliberately he turned the muzzle of the weapon towards himself. "I shall kill no one else ... but myself!" he sighed, and with the word he pulled the trigger and fell wounded on the steps of the platform. The bullet had broken his jaw. Clarisse, beside herself at this double shock, rushed to Robespierre's side and attempted to staunch the blood flowing from his wound. As he fell, some drops of blood splashed on the half-signed proclamation, and added a ghastly flourish to the initial letters R...o...b... Thérèse, standing near Olivier, was weeping bitterly and telling him of the efforts Robespierre had made to save them all. "He?" cried Olivier, still incredulous. The room filled rapidly from every side with the assailants armed with pikes, swords, knives, and muskets. They rushed in, screaming and shouting "Victory! Victory!" But all drew back on seeing Robespierre stretched on the ground, bathed in blood. A national representative ran to the window and announced the news to the crowd swarming in the Place de la Grêve. "_Citoyens!_ the tyrant has shot himself! The tyrant has forestalled the law! Long live the Convention!" Cries of "Long live the Convention!" re-echoed from the square, and were taken up and repeated from afar, till they gradually died in the distance. Robespierre, raising himself with Clarisse's aid, looked around for Olivier and Thérèse among the crowd. "At all events, the child is saved and you also," he said.... "Let me not pass away without your forgiveness!" "Oh yes! I forgive you!" Clarisse murmured amidst her tears. "I thank you!" he answered feebly, and fell back fainting. A rough, commanding voice broke in on Clarisse's grief. "Take him up!" Clarisse still remained, kneeling, but they pushed her aside. "Now then! Get out of the way!"