‘The greatest orations are to be heard there,’ La Buffon explained, adding that she was most impatient to hear Monsieur Danton speak that afternoon upon the matter of defending Paris against conspirators. This concern had quite come to prepossess her; indeed, since the attack upon the Tuileries there now seemed to be ceaseless talk of counter-revolutionaries and their wicked strategies to rise and massacre all the republicans in France. We took our seats among the crowded benches in the gallery. The air was thick and stifling and Madame’s face soon turned as red as the cushion her maid, Rosalie, had brought for her mistress’s comfort. We fanned ourselves frantically, dampening our muslin gowns as Danton roared and raged, throwing his fists about as he called the nation to arms. The Austrians would soon be at the gates with their cannons, he warned, and a great number of royalists would turn upon their neighbours in revenge for what had been committed at the Tuileries. Statesman upon statesman joined him in offering similar sentiments. I watched as the thin, bespectacled Robespierre took to the floor and argued that the guillotine placed in the Carrousel outside the now ravaged Tuileries Palace should be put to good use in removing the heads of all the royalist courtiers who cluttered the prisons.

It was a sobering spectacle to behold and one which only succeeded in further disconcerting La Buffon.

‘I confess it, Henriette,’ said she to me upon our journey back to the Palais-Royal, ‘although I would never admit as much to Orléans, it frightens me vastly, for it is he they will come for before anyone.’

‘I cannot imagine how such a situation should ever come to pass, for certainly most who are loyal to the King have fled abroad or languish in the prisons,’ I replied, attempting to displace her fears with reason.

‘There are many who will always hold with the King, for it is the only manner of life they have ever known and an existence without such riches and privileges seems anathema to them. Like your relation, Madame Elliot, for instance.’

I gave her a sudden look. It was the first time in a great while that she had mentioned Mrs Elliot’s name and I felt compelled to defend her.

‘She has explained her convictions to me, that she has been rewarded handsomely by those royalists and feels a sympathy for them . . .’

‘She has been rewarded handsomely by Orléans. Does she not feel a sympathy for him?’ La Buffon peaked her eyebrow at me.

‘Why of course, she cares for him greatly—’ I began, but Madame wrinkled her nose.

‘I am not convinced by it for one moment, Henriette. Her friends are dangerous ones, devoted royalists and, no doubt, conspirators against the Revolution. This is why I have forbidden him from meeting with her.’

‘You think that she would murder him, Agnès?’ I shot, somewhat offended by her suggestion.