"Perry, Anne - The One Thing More" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Anne)

lingered in him.

They had all hoped for so much from the Girondins when they had first
come to power in the Convention. They had seemed to embody the noblest
republican ideals. They had talked prodigiously. She remembered their
voices in her parents' home before she had married Charles, before
Jean-Pierre was born. Charles had died, but it was Jean-Pierre's death
that had drowned her world in pain.

The Girondins' endless posturing, chatter, her father's agony of
disillusion and her mother's refusal to believe it, all belonged to
another part of life. When it came to the passing of laws and taking
control of a chaotic situation, the Girondins had proved indecisive,
quarrelsome, self-regarding, and finally ineffectual.

"I long since ceased to expect anything from them." Bernave's voice
cut across her memories, a bitter weariness in it, and as he returned
to his seat she saw a droop in his shoulders she had not noticed
before. "Not that they will last much longer," he added. "If they
don't develop a little courage and a lot more brains, their days are
numbered."

She did not ask what would happen to them; she already knew. Some of
those, the bravest, would cling to the dream to the end, regardless of
the truth .. . like her mother. Others, like her father, would retreat
into despair and eventually oblivion.

"When will the execution be?" Bernave asked, interrupting her
thoughts.

"The twenty-first," she replied. "Four days' time."

He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. "I want you to take
a message to Georges Coigny. Go and tell him that the verdict is in
and will not change. He is to assure the first and second safe houses.
St. Felix will do the third. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I am to tell Georges Coigny that he is to
assure the first and second safe houses, and St. Felix will do the
third. I'll go tomorrow." She thought of the dark streets,
overflowing gutters and the bitter wind that hurt the skin.

"Now, Celie," Bernave said quietly. "Tonight."

"It's after midnight!" she protested. "It's perishing out there!" St.
Felix might be prepared to creep around the streets at all hours. She
was not!

"Now," Bernave repeated, and there was steel in his voice. "There is
no time to sleep. Go and tell Coigny what happened in the Convention,