First Meeting of Life-and-Death Friends

The day after the premiere, Armand and the Dragon and Rose Troupe received numerous new performance invitations. Among these, one stood out as particularly unique: it did not come from a theater, but from a member of the National Constituent Assembly—Monsieur Robespierre.

If Joseph had seen this invitation, he might have been startled, for Monsieur Robespierre would later become known as a notorious "mass murderer." According to some accounts, during his reign over France, a tall guillotine stood in the center of every square in Paris, and every lamppost bore an "enemy of the people" who had been executed. Later generations even fabricated an epitaph for him: "I, Robespierre, lie here. O passerby, do not mourn my death; for if I were alive, none of you would be!"

Joseph believed that after Robespierre's fall, none of his enemies—from the Thermidorians to the later Emperor Napoleon, and even the restored Louis XVIII—would have liked this man who was once called "The Incorruptible," the "Defender of the People," and the creator of the national motto: "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" (Robespierre's true epitaph). Thus, smearing his name was almost inevitable. Much like how the Bourbon Restoration period fabricated various sensational stories about Napoleon, depicting him as a hybrid of "Tartuffe" (the protagonist of Molière's Tartuffe) and "Don Juan" (a synonym for a lecher in Europe), the legends of Robespierre being temperamental and finding joy in killing were likely unreliable. However, one thing remained certain: this "Incorruptible" defender of the people did indeed kill many, including many who had once been in the same trenches as him. To say Robespierre killed for pleasure was likely a slander, but to say he was accustomed to solving problems by "eliminating the people who caused them" was likely true. In short: being Robespierre's enemy was extremely dangerous, but being his friend was not necessarily safe either.

Armand, however, knew none of this, and at this time, Robespierre's reputation was stellar. He had spoken over two hundred times during the Estates-General and the Constituent Assembly, ranking twentieth among the representatives. In his speeches, he supported universal male suffrage, opposed the King's veto power, advocated for civil rights for Jews, called for the abolition of slavery and the death penalty, and opposed press censorship. (Yes, you read that right: the "mass murderer" Robespierre was an abolitionist at the time. Strange? Not at all; it is merely further evidence that one's position determines one's perspective. When Robespierre was an abolitionist, the tool of the death penalty was held by King Louis XVI, threatening "rabble" like Robespierre, so he naturally opposed it. Once that tool fell into Robespierre's own hands, the situation changed. Speaking of which, Louis XVI had just completed the only technical invention of his life—improving the design of the guillotine to increase its efficiency. Ironically, the first user of this improved guillotine was Louis XVI himself. As the poet Lu Dashi wrote: "Once wealthy, the face changes, and heads are lopped off more often. Suddenly out of power, Namo Amitabha." This serves as a fitting portrait of such men.)

Most of Robespierre's proposals were not passed, but they earned him the reputation of "The Incorruptible." Receiving his invitation naturally delighted Armand. Furthermore, the location Robespierre offered was particularly special: the Palais-Royal.

The Palais-Royal was originally built for Cardinal Richelieu, the chief minister of Louis XIII, and was once known as the Palais-Cardinal (Richelieu was a Cardinal of France) before becoming the residence of the Orleans Family. To win over the people of Paris, the Orleans Family opened it to the public in 1780. Since then, this private garden palace had gradually become a public square for the people of Paris. Naturally, this was certainly the intention of the Duke of Orleans, whose political ambitions were by now known to everyone.

During the French Revolution in 1789, Paris had two political centers. One was Versailles, outside of Paris, where the Estates-General was meeting to decide the fate of France. The other was the Palais-Royal in the heart of Paris. During that period, it served as a thermometer for the political fervor of the Parisian populace. These were the two seats of political authority; if one were to compare them, after July 14, 1789, it was not Versailles but the Palais-Royal that was leading France. Versailles could not influence the Palais-Royal; conversely, the Palais-Royal could dominate Versailles.

The Palais-Royal was a grand palace capable of holding tens of thousands of people, a place teeming with all sorts of political pamphlets and orators, and certainly no shortage of spectators and listeners. Since the Estates-General, people had been exchanging information here, including news from Versailles, while simultaneously turning it into a hub for spreading rumors. If Armand's play could be performed here, even just once, it would absolutely make him famous.

After a moment of consideration, Armand accepted the invitation. That evening, he took the lead actor, Louis, to visit Robespierre.

Robespierre was staying at an inn near the City Hall. In fact, he could have had better accommodations—many members of the Constituent Assembly, for safety reasons, had accepted the kindness of the Duke of Orleans or the Marquis de Lafayette and moved into their properties. But "The Incorruptible" still paid his own way, staying in an ordinary inn. However, Robespierre had won quite a few cases when he was a lawyer, so his financial situation was decent, and the inn was of good quality; besides a bedroom, it even had a small parlor with a sofa.

Armand and Louis were led by a waiter to the third floor. This was the top floor of the inn, and compared to the first and second floors, it was much quieter—perhaps one of the reasons Robespierre chose to stay here.

The waiter brought Armand and Louis to a door and knocked gently.

"The door is open. Please, come in," a bright, clear voice called from inside.

The waiter pushed the door open and said toward the interior, "Monsieur Robespierre, Monsieur Lavoisier and Monsieur Saint-Just have arrived for their appointment."

Yes, Louis's surname was Saint-Just. If Joseph had known his surname when he met him last time, he would certainly have looked at this quiet, handsome young man with different eyes. Although Joseph, as an engineering student in his past life, was not particularly familiar with this period of the French Revolution, he had at least read Victor Hugo's Ninety-Three. From the notes in that novel, he knew of Saint-Just, Robespierre's most loyal lieutenant, known as the "Archangel of the Revolution" or the "Archangel of Terror."

However, even if Armand had not mentioned his surname when introducing Saint-Just to Joseph, Joseph really should have guessed that he was that "Archangel of Terror" simply from his incomparable beauty.

"Please come in, gentlemen," a voice came from inside the room, but the parlor was empty.

"Excuse me, I am writing a manuscript and will be finished in just a few sentences. Please wait a moment on the sofa. Hey, Henri, please attend to them and pour them some tea, thank you." The voice came from the study off the parlor.

The waiter led the two into the parlor, had them sit on the sofa, and poured them tea. The tea was an Indian black tea, but the quality was very average. If it had been Joseph, he likely wouldn't have drunk it, as he knew that low-grade tea of this era often had copper green added to mask mold, and drinking such things was not good for one's health at all.

Armand and Saint-Just, however, had no such concerns; they sat on the sofa and began to drink the tea.

Two minutes later, these words came from the study: "Finally finished! My apologies for keeping you waiting so long."

With these words, a young man walked out. Perhaps due to consecutive sleepless nights, his complexion was a bit pale, but his demeanor was serious. His lips were thin, his gaze calm. His cheeks twitched slightly with a nervous tic, which made his smile look somewhat unnatural. Following the habits of lawyers, his face was powdered, he wore gloves, his clothes were brushed stiff, his buttons were neatly fastened, and there was not a single wrinkle on his light blue jacket. He wore beige breeches, white stockings, shoes with silver buckles, a high cravat, and a flap-front decoration on his chest.

"Sorry, I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly," Robespierre reached out to shake their hands. "I went to see your premiere yesterday, and after returning, I was so excited I couldn't sleep all night. My ears were filled with your battle song and the stirring speeches of our Spartacus. I even forgot my work; it wasn't until a short while ago that I remembered I have a speech to deliver at the Assembly tomorrow. I checked the time and estimated you would still be an hour or two away, so I went to draft the manuscript first. I have a habit: once I start writing a manuscript, I cannot stop in the middle. I had to make you wait here. I hope you don't think I was intentionally slighting you."

"I understand that," Saint-Just said. "When I am doing something, I also do not like to be interrupted halfway through."

"Do you know the purpose of my inviting you to perform at the Palais-Royal?" Robespierre asked, sitting on the sofa and speaking very directly.

"You hope to use this play to put pressure on the King," Saint-Just replied almost without hesitation.

The speed of young Saint-Just's reaction clearly exceeded Robespierre's expectations. He paused for a moment, then said, "You are correct; that is indeed one of our goals. Obviously, there are political considerations behind this invitation. If you accept, you may also face certain political risks. I do not wish to drag you into a political whirlpool without you being aware of it. Well, as you know, the current situation is quite tense and dangerous."