"Hullo! you children! what are you doing there?" called out old Duplay. "Here we are! Here we are!" answered Victoire, appearing that moment on the threshold of the dining-room in a pretty white dress, coquettishly pushing back her hair, disordered by her hasty toilet. "Doesn't it suit me?" she said. "Oh! don't look at my hair; it isn't arranged," and she ran down the steps followed by Madame Lebas and Cornélie, also arrayed in their new finery. Mother Duplay scolded her daughters. "What! You dressed yourselves in the dining-room? Why, it is positively improper! Isn't it, Maximilien?" Robespierre smiled. "Let them alone, _bonne mère_. It's not _fête_ every day!" And he looked at the dresses, pronouncing them charming, and in perfect taste. Madame Lebas was in blue, Victoire in white, and Cornélie in red. "The three colours!" observed the boy Maurice. "We wanted to give you a surprise," said Cornélie, advancing towards Robespierre. "Nothing could have given me more pleasure," he replied. "That is what I call true patriotism." The noise of hurrying feet, the sound of voices and music, the hum of Paris in the distance preparing for the coming _fête_ centered through the open window. Fireworks burst in mid-air, then suddenly seemed to radiate in a blaze of glory. "Oh, look!" exclaimed the boy Maurice, as showers of golden fire fell in a cascade of light. Robespierre musingly watched their slow descent, which to his overstrained imagination took the form of one huge halo of glory. Robespierre was early up and dressed next morning, and he was received by the Duplays in the courtyard with cries of surprise, for it was scarcely nine o'clock. "What! dressed already! And we haven't commenced!" Robespierre told them he had hastened in order to be at the Tuileries in time to superintend things a bit, and to arrange matters with his friends, that there might be no hitch. People would talk so! The slightest thing might mar the splendour of the manifestation, which would be a pity on such a splendid day! "The sky is naturally propitious for the _fête_ of the Supreme Being," said Victoire; "but you will have some breakfast, I suppose?" "No, I shall breakfast over there." They now surrounded him, retaining him to arrange the folds of his cravat, or brush grains of powder from the revers of his coat, which they all declared suited him to perfection. He received the compliment with visible pleasure, as he had given himself no little trouble over his toilet for the great occasion.