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Updated: June 19, 2025
Robespierre, Duplay's guest, dined every day with Duplay, a juryman in the revolutionary tribunal and co-operator for the guillotine, at eighteen francs a day. The talk at the table probably turned on the current abstractions; but there must have been frequent allusions to the condemnations of the day, and, even when not mentioned, they were in their minds.
"But you never come to us, Caron," she returned, in a voice of mild complaint. "You have not been once to Duplay's since your return from Belgium. And you seem different, too, since your journey to the army." She rose now and approached him. "What is it, cher Caron?" she asked, her voice a very caress of seductiveness, her eyes looking up into his. "Is something troubling you?"
Mina, remembering how he had terrorized the secret out of her before, and resenting the humiliation of the memory, stiffened her neck once more. "I've nothing to say. You must do as you think best," she said. "You must be made to speak." Iver's threats alarmed where Duplay's only annoyed. He spoke calmly and with weight. "Who can make me speak?" she cried, more angry from her fear. "The law.
It is evident that Miss Iver is influenced largely influenced by er the supposed position of er Mr Tristram." "Of who?" "Of the present possessor of Blent." "If you want people to know who you mean, you'd better say Lord Tristram." "For the present, if you wish it. I say, she is " Duplay's pompous formality suddenly broke down. "She's taking him for his title, that's all."
A good man say so imperfectly good a man as Danton could not have endured life, after enacting such a law, and seeing the ghastly work that it was doing. He could hardly have contented himself with drawing tears from the company in Madame Duplay's little parlour, by his pathetic recitations from Corneille and Racine, or with listening to melting notes from the violin of Le Bas.
But Iver's eyes were gazing straight in front of him under brows that frowned heavily. "Now, what I want you to do," he resumed, "and I'm sure you won't refuse me, is this. I'm inclined to dismiss the whole thing as a blunder. I believe Duplay's honest, but I think certain facts in his own position have led him to be too ready to believe a mere yarn.
The relief in Duplay's mind was so great that he could not explain it, until he realized that his niece's way of treating him had so stuck in his memory that he had been prepared to be turned from Iver's doors with contumely. Such an idea seemed absurd now, and the Major laughed. Mina was strange, Duplay never ceased to think that.
All the while they talked, she had thought of the girl as far removed from Blent, as even more of a visitor to the countryside than she herself was, a wonderful visitor indeed, but no part of their life. And she was well, at the least she was heir to Blent! How had she forgotten that? The persistent triumph of Duplay's smile marked his sense of the success of his sally.
Then, in a fury, she swept from the house and into her waiting coach, and as she drove back to Duplay's in the Rue St. Honore she was weeping bitterly in her jealous rage. La Boulaye remained a moment by the door after Cecile's departure; then he moved away towards his desk, striving to master the tumultuous throbbing of his pulses.
They were, at first, merely in the habit of returning with him from the Jacobins' club, but after a while their private meetings became so necessary to them, that they assembled at Duplay's on those nights also on which the Jacobins did not meet. When Robespierre entered the humble salon, Lebas, St.
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