Chapter 123: Fouché's Decision
When Fouch's carriage arrived in Paris, he realized that all his plans during the carriage ride had been in vain. Both Danton and Desmoulins had already been sent to the guillotine. That night, the lights in Fouch's residence stayed on, and no one knew what he was up to.
Early the next morning, Fouch headed to the National Convention. He was one of the first to arrive, finding the hall almost empty, except for a janitor tidying up. The entire hall was silent, and the delegates didn't speak to him or greet him. This eerie silence was unusual for the National Convention, which usually buzzed like a marketplace. Delegates whispered to each other, discussing the current situation or a socialite's appearance. When soone gave a speech, applause, hisses, and even the sound of shoes on the tables echoed through the hall. But now, the hall resembled a solemn and eerie graveyard.
As ti passed, it was ti to start the session, but a significant portion of the seats remained empty. Many familiar faces were absent, including Robespierre, Danton, Desmoulins, Saint-Just, and others. Fouch noticed this, and his heart sank. He also spotted Robespierre in the hall, a man with a pale, waxy face and beady eyes, who smiled at Fouch like a predator eyeing its prey.
Fouch's heart tightened as he saw the malevolence in Robespierre's smile. He couldn't help trembling, cold sweat trickling down his body. Fouch felt oppressed in this society, like a hapless chaleon in a world filled with relentless predators. He had to fight back tears, although his large eyes almost betrayed him. Hell felt empty, and demons road the earth.
Fouch knew he couldn't wait any longer. He stood up and addressed the presiding officer, "I am Citizen Joseph Fouch, special envoy from the Marseille region, tasked with reporting to the 'Committee of Public Safety.' However, I believe it may be better to address these matters here."
Fouch's move was a challenge. He had been sent by the 'Committee of Public Safety' to report to them, not to the National Convention. By requesting to speak before the National Convention, he was defying the 'Committee of Public Safety,' a challenge to Robespierre.
He t the presiding officer's gaze, and the officer hesitated for a mont, then looked towards the seating area
probably in Robespierre's direction. Finally, he said, "Very well, Citizen Fouch, you may take the stage and speak."
Fouch ascended the stage, surveyed the room, and noticed Robespierre still eyeing him, much like a cat staring at a caught mouse.
Fouch took a deep breath and began his speech. Although it was emotional and lengthy, if summarized, it ca down to one simple ssage: "I shed blood for the Jacobins, I contributed to their cause, and I want to continue serving them. You can't..."
The assembly listened in silence, no applause, no jeers, no pounding of shoes on tables. Fouch's voice echoed through the empty hall, resembling an echo in a desolate cetery.
When Fouch concluded his speech, the silence persisted. It seed as though all the delegates had turned into lifeless puppets.
Fouch didn't know how he managed to step down from the stage, but he returned to his seat, trembling with fear. He knew he had lost this battle. The National Convention was no longer the vibrant assembly he once knew; it had lost its courage amid the turmoil.
Robespierre stood up. Fouch paled, trembling. He was sure that Robespierre would denounce him, label him a traitor, and demand his arrest. Then the cycle of arrest, trial, and execution would begin.
"Regarding Citizen Fouch's report, I suggest that the National Convention entrust this matter to the 'Committee of Public Safety,'" Robespierre said.
This suggestion surprised Fouch, as Robespierre could have simply declared him a traitor, and the delegates would have applauded. However, Robespierre proposed this...
Fouch was left to wonder about Robespierre's intentions. He had two guesses. One, Robespierre did want him dead, but he wanted to savor Fouch's fear and despair first before delivering the final blow, like a cat toying with a mouse. The second possibility was that Robespierre wanted Fouch to submit, to repent, and then to serve him obediently, like a loyal dog.
Fouch thought the first possibility was more likely, given what he knew of Robespierre. Nevertheless, he believed he could be useful as a dog. Fouch was a man of action. He couldn't afford to panic. He knew he had to fight to the last mont.
In the dark and cold streets of Saint-Honor, Fouch's footsteps gained resolve. He couldn't wait for his execution; he had only one choice
to behead Robespierre before Robespierre could behead him.
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