The Fox of France

When Fouché's carriage arrived in Paris, he realized that all his plans during the carriage ride had been in vain. Both Danton and Desmoulins had already been sent to the guillotine. That night, the lights in Fouché's residence stayed on, and no one knew what he was up to.

Early the next morning, Fouché headed to the National Convention. He was one of the first to arrive, finding the hall almost empty, except for a janitor tidying up. The entire hall was silent, and the delegates didn't speak to him or greet him. This eerie silence was unusual for the National Convention, which usually buzzed like a marketplace. Delegates whispered to each other, discussing the current situation or a socialite's appearance. When someone gave a speech, applause, hisses, and even the sound of shoes on the tables echoed through the hall. But now, the hall resembled a solemn and eerie graveyard.

As time passed, it was time to start the session, but a significant portion of the seats remained empty. Many familiar faces were absent, including Robespierre, Danton, Desmoulins, Saint-Just, and others. Fouché noticed this, and his heart sank. He also spotted Robespierre in the hall, a man with a pale, waxy face and beady eyes, who smiled at Fouché like a predator eyeing its prey.contemporary romance

Fouché's heart tightened as he saw the malevolence in Robespierre's smile. He couldn't help trembling, cold sweat trickling down his body. Fouché felt oppressed in this society, like a hapless chameleon in a world filled with relentless predators. He had to fight back tears, although his large eyes almost betrayed him. Hell felt empty, and demons roamed the earth.

Fouché knew he couldn't wait any longer. He stood up and addressed the presiding officer, "I am Citizen Joseph Fouché, special envoy from the Marseille region, tasked with reporting to the 'Committee of Public Safety.' However, I believe it may be better to address these matters here."

Fouché's move was a challenge. He had been sent by the 'Committee of Public Safety' to report to them, not to the National Convention. By requesting to speak before the National Convention, he was defying the 'Committee of Public Safety,' a challenge to Robespierre.

He met the presiding officer's gaze, and the officer hesitated for a moment, then looked towards the seating area – probably in Robespierre's direction. Finally, he said, "Very well, Citizen Fouché, you may take the stage and speak."

Fouché ascended the stage, surveyed the room, and noticed Robespierre still eyeing him, much like a cat staring at a caught mouse.

Fouché took a deep breath and began his speech. Although it was emotional and lengthy, if summarized, it came down to one simple message: "I shed blood for the Jacobins, I contributed to their cause, and I want to continue serving them. You can't..."

The assembly listened in silence, no applause, no jeers, no pounding of shoes on tables. Fouché's voice echoed through the empty hall, resembling an echo in a desolate cemetery.

When Fouché concluded his speech, the silence persisted. It seemed as though all the delegates had turned into lifeless puppets.

Fouché didn't know how he managed to step down from the stage, but he returned to his seat, trembling with fear. He knew he had lost this battle. The National Convention was no longer the vibrant assembly he once knew; it had lost its courage amid the turmoil.

Robespierre stood up. Fouché paled, trembling. He was sure that Robespierre would denounce him, label him a traitor, and demand his arrest. Then the cycle of arrest, trial, and execution would begin.

"Regarding Citizen Fouché's report, I suggest that the National Convention entrust this matter to the 'Committee of Public Safety,'" Robespierre said.

This suggestion surprised Fouché, as Robespierre could have simply declared him a traitor, and the delegates would have applauded. However, Robespierre proposed this...

Fouché was left to wonder about Robespierre's intentions. He had two guesses. One, Robespierre did want him dead, but he wanted to savor Fouché's fear and despair first before delivering the final blow, like a cat toying with a mouse. The second possibility was that Robespierre wanted Fouché to submit, to repent, and then to serve him obediently, like a loyal dog.

Fouché thought the first possibility was more likely, given what he knew of Robespierre. Nevertheless, he believed he could be useful as a dog. Fouché was a man of action. He couldn't afford to panic. He knew he had to fight to the last moment.

In the dark and cold streets of Saint-Honoré, Fouché's footsteps gained resolve. He couldn't wait for his execution; he had only one choice – to behead Robespierre before Robespierre could behead him.

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