"He was fond of women before he became a warrior."
"Like Biron, who was a Lauzun," said Danton.
And Cimourdain added thoughtfully—
"Yes, he was formerly a man of pleasure. He must be terrible."
"Frightful," said Robespierre. "He burns villages, puts an end to the wounded, massacres the prisoners, shoots the women."
"The women?"
"Yes, among others he had a mother of three children shot. Nobody knows what became of the children. Besides he is a captain. He understands warfare."
"To be sure," replied Cimourdain. "He was in the war with Hanover, and the soldiers said: 'Richelieu uppermost, Lantenac at the bottom.' Lantenac was the real general. Talk about him to your colleague, Dussaulx."
Robespierre remained thoughtful for a moment, then the conversation continued between him and Cimourdain.
"Well, Citizen Cimourdain, this man is in Vendée."
"How long has he been there?"
"Three weeks."
"He must be outlawed."
"That has been done."
"A price must be set on his head."
"It has been done."
"A large sum of money must be offered to the one who captures him."
"It has been done."
"Not in assignats."
"It has been done."
"In gold."
"It has been done."
"And he must be guillotined."
"It will be done."
"By whom?"
"By you."
"By me?"
"Yes, you will be commissioned by the Committee of Public Welfare with full power."
"I accept," said Cimourdain.
Robespierre was swift in his selections, a characteristic of a statesman. He took from the pile before him a sheet of white paper, with this printed heading: French Re-
