Robespierre had made a sign to Lebas to change the conversation on account of the women. Then significantly shrugging his shoulders, he whispered to him-- "The Committee of Public Safety? Well, I shall be ready for them!" At table Robespierre, who was seated between Monsieur and Madame Duplay, hardly tasted his soup. "The soup doesn't please you, friend?" "Oh yes! Very good! Excellent!" Victoire cleared away the soup plates as slowly as possible, waiting for Robespierre. When he had finished, she said-- "That is right, _bon ami_. You know you have to keep up your strength for to-morrow." Madame Lebas now returned from the kitchen with the capon, and was greeted by a general murmur of admiration. "Splendid!" cried Simon Duplay, who was a bit of a gourmand. "To-morrow, children, you shall have duck, duck and turnips!" said Madame Duplay, much gratified, as she set to work to carve the fowl, giving Robespierre the white meat, which he took mechanically, deep in thought. Lebas told them that he had seen Fouquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, who was returning from the Bastille, where he had been to inspect the new installation. "Ah, yes! the guillotine!" interposed mother Duplay, continuing to carve. "But it didn't work to-day, did it?" "It will not work to-morrow either," said Robespierre, "but the day after to-morrow ..." "Will you allude to it in your discourse, _bon ami_?" "Yes, towards the end; for it is well that the aristocrats should know that we are not disarming." "Decidedly," chimed in Duplay, "that would be too stupid." Robespierre, warmed by the tone of the conversation, recovered his appetite. "At all events," he said, "the _fête_ to-morrow will be a warning for every one; for the aristocrats, as well as for many a Judas of the party." He stopped to express his appreciation of the fowl, sending up his plate for more. "A leg, or a wing?" asked mother Duplay, delighted. Robespierre suddenly turned round. He had heard a noise. "I am sure the front door has just been opened," he said. Simon Duplay took out a match to light a lamp, and young Maurice rose, looking out into the dark. "It's true," he said; "it's a woman with a large parcel." "Our dresses, surely!" exclaimed Cornélie, who had been somewhat morose and silent until then. "Yes, our dresses," cried Madame Lebas and Victoire expectantly. It was, after all, only the dresses, which the dressmaker had at last brought. The enormous box was handled by them eagerly; they wished to open it there and then. However, Victoire, prudently fearing to soil the contents, carried it into the dining-room, followed by her sisters. The conversation was resumed with lively interest by the light of the lamp just lit, and opinions were freely expressed that as Royalty had her _fêtes_, the world would now see what a Republican _fête_ could be like. It would be truly national, imposing, and symbolical. The young women had not yet returned.