Fortunately, the Seamstress did have a reputation for virtue and an upstanding character. She did not have to listen to Claire’s raptures any longer. “Really, I hardly find that appropriate to discuss. Please.”

Claire laughed and hugged her while floating out the door. Before she closed it behind her, she said, “The invitations are out and the responses back. Every one of the merchants we invited to hear Olympe speak plans to be there tomorrow with their families.” She whispered, “Imagine how many we will send to the guillotine for this. More than anyone else has ever denounced, I would imagine.” Her mouth split into a wide grin, and then she closed the door behind her.

Scarlet closed her eyes. This assignment wore on her more every day. That Claire rejoiced in the deaths of so many, that she would cause these deaths through trickery, that she had invited innocents to hear Olympe de Gouges, a known traitor, as though the Jacobin women supported her, only to cart the shopkeepers off to their deaths—Scarlet shuddered.

She walked to the window, searching the street. When she felt sure no one would interrupt, she rushed to the bucket of ashes by the fireplace where she had hidden the lists of the denounced. The act of pulling them out during daylight hours caused her face to flush and her breathing to quicken. One slip at a time, she placed the pages onto the flame, watching each name, each denouncement, wither and curl and blacken, disappearing forever.

Several hours later, as the Seamstress made her way down darkened streets, her mood darkened further at the great deception. Posters lined the walls, and everywhere, people could be heard discussing Olympe de Gouges, noted playwright and author. They looked forward in happy anticipation for her to arrive on the morrow to address them.

Also lining the streets with the posters were feet, dozens of boots—soldiers, dressed in black, hiding in the darkness, ready to rip the shop owners from their doorways. Scarlet glimpsed them in the shadows. So, Robespierre did not want to wait until the square filled with people. He hoped to grab his victims in the act of leaving their homes to circumvent word getting out to others and any attempts at escape. With this intent, all through the night, boots waited outside homes.

While Scarlet and her men worked.

***

Morning dawned bright and early, and only small numbers began to gather. Soldiers watched the streets with a smirk of satisfaction. Some of the working classes from neighboring boroughs trickled in. Olympe stood on a platform, glancing at her time piece every now and then, her face serene but aware. Shops lined the square, her platform at the head, in the shadow of the church. Its bell tolled ten times.