At about three o'clock, the boy awoke with a start. He heard a noise in the next room, and, thinking he recognised Robespierre's voice, turned over to sleep again. It was not the first time his good friend had talked aloud in his sleep. But he was awakened again by the falling of a chair, and jumped from his bed anxiously and ran to open the door. In the flickering light of the nearly extinguished lamp he discerned the Incorruptible standing erect, still dressed, and gesticulating wildly as if pushing some one back. The boy advanced towards him, asking what was amiss. Robespierre stared at him with a frightened look, then folding him in his arms, he fell on his knees moaning. Between his groans the child could catch the words-- "My son! ... My son!" Then the lamp went quite out. The child gently disengaged himself. _Bon ami_ had called him his son! Yes, he was his son, his affectionate and dutiful son. Then with tender solicitude he helped him to rise. The day was already peeping through the half-closed shutters. Maurice with some difficulty succeeded in replacing his friend on the armchair in which he had passed the night, and asked him if he wished for anything. But Robespierre had fallen asleep again. The boy returned to his room, walking backwards on tiptoe, fearing to awaken him, and went to bed again. At seven o'clock in the morning Robespierre opened his eyes. He remembered nothing. The fact of having slept in his clothes, and in an armchair, did not surprise him. He had often done so in the days of sore trial. He drew aside the curtains, and the room was suddenly flooded with daylight. Some one knocked. It was Maurice Duplay, asking if he could come in. The boy's early visit surprised Robespierre. "Are you well, _bon ami_?" "Yes, why?" "Nothing ... only ... last night ... you know..." "Last night? Well!" "You rather frightened me!" "Frightened you?" "Yes, you frightened me!" The child then told him what had taken place in the night. "Are you quite sure?" asked Robespierre anxiously. "Oh! quite sure, and since you called me your son it shows you recognised me, and had not the fever so badly after all." "Yes, you are right! It was nothing since ... as you said ... since I recognised you; ... for it was you of course I called my son: ... you _are_ my good little son, are you not?" And he patted his cheeks, adding-- "But you must not speak of it to anybody! not to anybody, mind! It is not worth while worrying your father and mother." "Oh no! I have never said anything!" Robespierre began again to feel uneasy. "How do you mean? You have _never_ said anything?" "Why, it is not the first time it has happened to you." "Have you heard me before, then?" "Oh yes! speaking loud in your sleep." "And what did I say?" "Oh, I never understood anything, ... disconnected words, that's all.... And then I was so accustomed, I did not pay much attention. But last night it was too much and I got up."