The two women glanced in spite of themselves at the neighbouring courtyard, whence came a noise of wheels and the tramp of horses. They stooped, and saw through the large grating the cart with its load of the condemned roll away by the light of torches held by the turnkeys, and driven by a coachman in a carmagnole and red bonnet. As the vehicle was disappearing the two women recognised Madame de Narbonne in tears, sending kisses to the prison, in which her little girl had now wept herself to sleep. "Oh! it is horrible!" said Thérèse. And she fell on Clarisse's shoulder, thoroughly broken by the terrible emotions of the day. At this moment the cart reached the street, and passed close to Olivier, who commenced mechanically to follow it, while the people of the quarter, seated at their doors, and accustomed to this daily spectacle, looked on with indifference. But at a bend in the road Olivier let the cart go out of sight, lost in reflection. He walked straight on as a man in a dream, stopping on the quay to look down at the Seine. The cooling freshness of the water seemed to revive him. He breathed the air gratefully, and continued his walk along the river, feeling less depressed. Suddenly from the heights of Port-Royal his eyes were dazzled by a rush of unusual light. Showers of golden fire trailed in the air over the Tuileries gardens. It was a trial of the fireworks to be let off the next day. Olivier crossed the bridge, and hastening his steps reached the Place de la Révolution, which at that hour was filled with loungers from the boulevards, curious to see the preparations for the _fête_. Under a sky studded with stars, the immense space lay extended before him, with its stands already decked with flowers; its masts connected by garlands of foliage and coloured glass; its flags, and plumes, and banners floating in the wind. Here and there fiddlers, standing on chairs, taught to choirs of young girls and young men the new anthem by Gossec, to be sung at the _fête_, a hymn to the Supreme Being, composed specially for the occasion. Some, carried away by their enthusiasm, followed up the hymn with a waltz or a gavotte. Olivier opened his eyes in astonishment, asking himself if all this was real, or if he was in an extravagant dream. On one side he saw but sorrow, on the other only joy! On one side, tears, despair, and the scaffold; on the other, laughter, revelry, and flowers! And the laughter and flowers were to honour and glorify the very one who was the cause of all this misery, who tore children relentlessly from the arms of their mothers as he sent them to death! At this very moment the abhorred name fell on his ears: "Robespierre! ... There's Robespierre!" he heard the crowd whispering.