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“Answer yes!” shouted Simon, raising his lash over the child, who shivered but made no move to avoid being hit.

All those in attendance gave a cry of revulsion. Lorin went one better; he dashed forward and seized Simon’s wrist before he had a chance to strike.

“Let go of me!” Simon hissed, purple with rage.

“You see,” said Fouquier, “there’s no harm in a mother loving her son. Tell us in what way your mother loved you, Capet. It could help her.”

The young prisoner gave a start at the idea that he could help his mother.

“She loved me the way any mother loves her son, monsieur,” he said. “There is only one way a mother loves her children or children love their mother.”

“And I say, you little snake, that you told me your mother …”

“You must have dreamed it,” said Lorin. “You must often have nightmares, Simon.”

“Lorin! Lorin!” hissed Simon.

“Yes, Lorin … go on! You can’t beat Lorin, you know: he’s the one who beats others when they’re horrible. There’s no way you can denounce me, either, for what I did in stopping your arm I did in front of General Hanriot and citizen Fouquier-Tinville, who approved. And they aren’t lukewarm, those two! So there’s no way you can have me guillotined like Héloïse Tison. It is annoying, I agree, even infuriating, but that’s how it is, my poor Simon!”

“You’ll keep!” replied the cobbler, cackling, as usual, like a hyena.

“Yes, friend,” said Lorin. “But I hope, with the help of the Supreme Being—ah! you were hoping I’d say ‘God’!—I hope with the help of the Supreme Being and my trusty sword to rip your guts open beforehand. Now get out of the way, Simon, I can’t see.”

“Bastard.”

“Shut your mouth. I can’t hear.” Lorin crushed Simon with a look.

Simon balled his hands, whose ingrained dirt he was so proud of, into fists; but as Lorin said, he was forced to restrict himself to that gesture.

“Now that he has started to speak, no doubt he’ll continue,” said Hanriot. “Go on, citizen Fouquier.”

The child withdrew into his silence.

“You see, citizen, you see!” said Simon.

“The obstinacy of this child is odd,” said Hanriot, troubled in spite of himself by such perfectly royal steadfastness.

“He’s been getting bad advice,” said Lorin.

“From whom?” demanded Hanriot.

“His boss, of course!”

“You’re accusing me?” cried Simon. “You think you can denounce me? Ha! That’s funny.…”

“Let’s try a little kindness, see if that wins him over,” said Fouquier.

Turning back to the child who you’d have thought completely oblivious, he said:

“Come, my child, answer the National Commission; don’t aggravate your situation by refusing to provide useful clarification. You told citizen Simon your mother used to stroke you, you described the way she used to stroke you, her way of loving you.”

Louis gave each of the assembled company a look that filled with hate when it alighted on Simon. But he did not respond.

“Are you unhappy?” asked the prosecutor. “Are you badly lodged, badly fed, badly treated? Would you like more freedom, a different diet, a different prison, a different guardian? Would you like a horse to ride? Would you like us to grant you the company of children your own age?”

Louis sank into the profound silence which he had only broken to defend his mother. The Commission remained speechless with amazement. Such firmness, such intelligence were incredible in a child.

“Hmmph! These kings!” said Hanriot in a lowered voice. “What a race! They’re like tigers: even when they’re small, they’re nasty.”

“How do I write the report?” asked the embarrassed court clerk.

“The only thing for it is to get Simon to do it for you,” said Lorin. “There’s nothing to write, which will suit him to a tee.”

Simon showed his fist to his implacable enemy; Lorin started to laugh.

“You won’t laugh like that the day you sneeze in the sack,” said Simon, beside himself with fury.

“I don’t know if I’ll go before or after you in the little ceremony you threaten me with,” said Lorin. “But what I do know is that a lot of people will laugh the day it’s your turn. Ye Gods! … I said ‘Gods’ in the plural.… Gods!