"I am going out myself!" she announced. "I at least will be safe in the streets, and something unusual is happening to-day. Rest you here! I will come back shortly, and tell you all about it!" And she hurried away. Now it must be explained that France, from the time of September, 1792, had determined to change the names of all the months, and number the years beginning from her birth as a Republic. Consequently this day of July 28, 1794, or the Tenth Thermidor, year II, as she called it, was destined to be a date long remembered in history. In about two hours Mère Clouet came back. She was breathless, her eyes were flashing, and she was under the influence of some keen excitement. "My soul!" she exclaimed, sinking into a seat "What I have seen! What I have heard! What times we live in! You will scarcely believe me! I went to the Rue St. Honoré. It was filled with a shouting crowd. I asked a woman what was happening, and she looked at me as though she thought me insane for not knowing! 'Where have you been?' she cried. 'What! do you not know that Robespierre was yesterday condemned by the Convention for his barbarity, declared an outlaw, and naturally headed for the scaffold? Coward that he is! He tried to kill himself, but missed his aim and only wounded his jaw. He's on the way to the guillotine now, with a few others of a similar stripe,--Couthon, Henriot, St. Just! Curse him! Curse him! He put to death my husband and my father for no crime at all,--they were good Republicans! And Barras,--he's in command of all the forces of Paris, and will soon be at the head of the government, also. He is at least a humane man! Ah, here comes the tumbril now!' "Then a mighty roar went up from the crowd, a cart jolted up the street, and there sat that Robespierre, his hands tied behind him, and his wicked face bound up in a rag! Faugh! the sight turned me sick! But here's something else quite as wonderful! Directly beside him, cheek by jowl, sat (you'll never believe me!) that ruffian Simon the cobbler, in the very Carmagnole suit he used to wear in the Temple. His teeth fairly chattered with fright! Ah, but I wish the little fellow could have seen him! Was ever a punishment so well deserved! "Never, in all my life have I witnessed such a sight! People sang for very joy, and even strangers embraced each other. They say that in some of the prisons, many were set free! I saw a man pay thirty francs for a newspaper telling how yesterday Robespierre was condemned! They say the Reign of Terror is over! Thank God! Thank God!" And Mère Clouet, no longer able to control herself, sobbed in sheer ecstasy of joy.