‘What shame I suffer now . . . It was the action of a fool,’ said he, hanging his head. ‘You see, my brothers, by then I could think of nothing but revolution. So fired up was I by the writings of Rousseau, of all I read, of Marat, of Père Duchesne, of all that was discussed in the rooms of the Jacobin Clubs . . .’ Allenham’s voice swelled with vigour. As I beheld him, I recognized that my beloved was an actor! By Jove, to see him spouting and expostulating, standing at attention and delivering his lines to the tribunal, to the gallery – he was as accomplished as Kemble or Garrick himself! At that moment, in apprehending what he was doing, I felt the desire to smile. However, I knew better, and smothered that sensation immediately. It was now incumbent upon me to play my role too. Dear Allenham was transforming me from enemy to heroine and, in doing so, attempting with every breath in his lungs to preserve my life.

‘. . . I could think of nothing else!’ he continued. ‘I wished to devote my entire person to the cause of the Revolution and I understood, in doing so, I could not afford the distractions of love – or the risks and consequences that flowed from such an engagement of the heart. And so my father and I set out for Paris. I bid Citizeness Lightfoot adieu in the belief that she would return to London. But she did not.’ Allenham sighed and gazed at me longingly, so that my tears flowed steadily and genuinely.

‘For some time, she endeavoured to locate me in this city and, after a spell, she was successful. Upon several occasions she came to the shop I keep with my father in the arcades of the Palais-Royal. It is with shame and sorrow that I confess to you that I turned her away out of coldness. Though she begged to be returned to my favour, I ignored the call of love. I eschewed all that I felt for this dear creature,’ he cried, shaking his head in an anguished show of woe, his gaze locked on mine.

‘She is the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld, and I have never loved another as I have loved her . . .’ He turned again to the gallery behind him. ‘Brothers, you cannot fault Citizen Égalité for falling prey to her charms!’ There rose a great cheer. ‘Indeed, I might not have wished for a more devoted and generous protector for her – one with whom she could share her passion for liberty. From Citizen Égalité’s own hand you have heard the truth of this! Never was there one more dedicated to the ideals of the Revolution than she! She was born an Englishwoman: a hatred of tyranny courses through her very veins!’ Again a cry of approval went up high into the dome of the ceiling. When it died away, Allenham, who now held an entire audience in his command, continued.