‘She has been apprehended in Moselle, the place of her birth. They are great patriots in Moselle and they knew her to be a conspirator.’

I regarded him with shock.

‘They found upon her some documents and a book containing many pages of codes and ciphers. She had been in communication with émigrés, in Coblenz, Geneva, Turin and in London. Her case has been heard and she has been put to death.’

I could not mask the horror I felt at his pronouncement and began to shed tears for my unfortunate housemaid. I wondered why she had been willing to undertake the dangerous tasks requested of her by Mrs Elliot, or indeed if she had initially been deceived into performing this role, much as I had been. How I cursed that woman. Thérèse’s blood would be upon her hands.

‘You weep, citizeness?’ He stared hard into my eyes. ‘It is the guilty who weep. It only remains to be seen if your fate will be the same as your servant’s.’

I now began to wait in earnest. Upon each occasion when a guard passed by our door or came abruptly into the common dining room, my heart began to race. I anticipated hearing my name, but those of others were cried out instead.

At the end of that month, I was shaken awake by a guard holding a great smoking torch above me. The dawn had not quite broken.

‘Citizeness, you must come now. You are to be moved to the Conciergerie. Your trial is set for this morning.’

Madame Fourçon, who slept nearest to me, heard this and immediately sprang from her bed.

‘Oh, dear God, child! You will be condemned to die!’ she exclaimed. At the sound of this, the entire room of women, who now numbered fifteen, were roused from their slumber. They stared at me through the early blue light with sleepy, horrified eyes. Madame Fourçon reached tenderly for my hand.

‘You must dress, mademoiselle.’ Madame de Vollet spoke firmly. ‘We shall prepare you.’

My turn had come.

I had participated in this ritual on at least a dozen occasions prior to this day. I had bid adieu to Madame Crozier and cried bitterly to observe Madame Desenfants wrenched from the arms of her daughter. I had threaded a fresh blue ribbon into her cap and smoothed her hair beneath it as she sobbed. I had tightened the stays of Mademoiselle Touret and tied Madame Le Donine’s sash. Each woman took their leave of us attired in some part of their former existence, albeit creased, dampened and far looser fitted.

That which I had chosen to preserve was the gown made from the striped blue silk Allenham had once purchased for me.