AN EPISODE UNDER THE TERROR



On the 22nd of January, 1793, towards eight o'clock in the evening, an
old lady came down the steep street that comes to an end opposite the
Church of Saint Laurent in the Faubourg Saint Martin. It had snowed so
heavily all day long that the lady's footsteps were scarcely audible;
the streets were deserted, and a feeling of dread, not unnatural amid
the silence, was further increased by the whole extent of the Terror
beneath which France was groaning in those days; what was more, the
old lady so far had met no one by the way. Her sight had long been
failing, so that the few foot passengers dispersed like shadows in the
distance over the wide thoroughfare through the faubourg, were quite
invisible to her by the light of the lanterns.

She had passed the end of the Rue des Morts, when she fancied that she
could hear the firm, heavy tread of a man walking behind her. Then it
seemed to her that she had heard that sound before, and dismayed by
the idea of being followed, she tried to walk faster toward a brightly
lit shop window, in the hope of verifying the suspicions which had
taken hold of her mind.

So soon as she stood in the shaft of light that streamed out across
the road, she turned her head suddenly, and caught sight of a human
figure looming through the fog. The dim vision was enough for her. For
one moment she reeled beneath an overpowering weight of dread, for she
could not doubt any longer that the man had followed her the whole way
from her own door; then the desire to escape from the spy gave her
strength. Unable to think clearly, she walked twice as fast as before,