[_.Monday night, July 13-14. It is two or three o'clock in the
morning._
_The scene is a street in Paris, in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.
At the back, towering above the house-tops, stands the great
bulk of the Bastille, the turrets of which, engulfed in the
black night, soar up into the sky, and seem to strain higher
and higher as dawn approaches. To the right, at the corner of a
street, is_ LUCILE'S _house. A convolvulus twines itself about
the balcony support, and clambers along the wall. The street
is lighted by candles, placed on the window-sills. Sounds from
blacksmith shops--hammers pounding on forges, are heard, and
from time to time the tocsin of a church, or occasionally a
far-off musket-shot. Workingmen are constructing a barricade of
wood and stone at the street corner, under_ LUCILE'S _window._]
A MASON. Only a few more stones now.
A WORKINGMAN [_with his bed on his back_]. Here, use this. It's
my bed.
THE MASON. Are you sleeping here?
THE WORKINGMAN. I will before long, with a bullet in me.
THE MASON. You have a sense of humor.
THE WORKINGMAN. If the brigands pass here, we won't need
anything. Our beds are made elsewhere.
A CARPENTER. Help me stretch this cord.
AN APPRENTICE. What for?
THE CARPENTER. To trip the horses.
A PRINTER. Hey, Camuset?
ANOTHER. Yes?
THE PRINTER. Listen.
THE OTHER. What?
THE PRINTER. Don't you hear?
THE OTHER. I hear anvils. They're making pikes in all the
blacksmith shops.
THE PRINTER. No, not that. There--[_He points to the ground_.]
THE OTHER. There?
THE PRINTER. Yes, under the ground. [_He lies down, with his ear
to the ground_.]
THE OTHER. You're dreaming!
THE WORKINGMAN [_lying down_]. Sounds like mining.
THE OTHER. Good Lord, they're going to blow us up!
THE CARPENTER [_incredulously_]. Nonsense!
THE WORKINGMAN [_still on the ground_]. They've hidden millions
of pounds of powder there.
THE OTHER WORKINGMAN. That's why we can't find any.
THE CARPENTER. Do you think an army can go about underground
like rats?
THE WORKINGMAN [_still on the ground_]. They've got underground
passages leading from the Bastille to Vincennes.
THE CARPENTER. Fairy tales!
THE OTHER WORKINGMAN [_rising_]. I'll have a look in the cellar,
anyway. Are you coming with me, Camuset? [_They both go into a
house._]
THE CARPENTER [_laughing_]. In the cellar? Ha, ha! They're
looking for a pretext to wet their whistles! Now, let's finish
our work.
THE MASON [_looking behind him as he works_]. Good God!
THE CARPENTER. What's wrong?
THE MASON [_looking toward the Bastille_], That--that! Every
time I look at that thing, it weighs down on my back--that
Bastille! It catches in my throat.
THE CARPENTER. One looks under ground, and the other in the air.
Don't look around; go on with your work.
THE MASON. Makes no difference: I feel it. Like as if some
one was standing behind me, with his fist raised ready to hit
me.--Good God!
THE VOICE OF A BOURGEOIS. He is right: we are watched by cannon.
What good is all this going to do us? In a flash it could knock
that all down like a house of cards.
CARPENTER. Oh, no.
THE MASON [_pointing toward the Bastille_], You damned monster!
When are we going to get rid of you!
THE CARPENTER. Soon.
OTHERS. You think so?--How?
THE CARPENTER. I don't know, but it's so. Courage, now! It's a
long lane that has no turning. [_They set to work again._]
THE APPRENTICE. Meantime, we can't see a thing.
THE CARPENTER [_shouting toward the houses_]. Hey, up there! You
women, look to your candles! We've got to see tonight!
A WOMAN [_at a window, re-lighting candles_]. How is everything
getting along?
THE CARPENTER. Well, more than one will leave his carcass here
before they get past.
THE WOMAN. Are they coming soon?
THE CARPENTER. They say Grenelle is running with blood. You can
hear shots from the Vaugirard section.
THE OLD BOURGEOIS. They are waiting for daylight before entering.
THE MASON. What time is it?
THE WOMAN. Three. Listen, the cocks are crowing.
THE MASON [_wiping his brow with his sleeve_]. Got to hurry!
Lord, how hot it is!
THE CARPENTER. So much the better.
THE OLD BOURGEOIS. I can't do another stroke.
THE CARPENTER. Rest a little, Monsieur. Nobody need work any
more than he can.
THE OLD BOURGEOIS [_bringing a paving-block_]. I want to put
this in place, though.
THE CARPENTER. Take it easier. If you can't gallop, trot.
THE WOMAN, Have you got your muskets yet?
THE CARPENTER. They keep putting us off at the Hötel de Ville. A
few hundred bourgeois there take everything.
THE MASON. Never mind. We have knives, and sticks and stones.
Anything is good to kill with.
THE WOMAN. I've got a lot of tiles, broken bottles, and
glass here in my room. Everything's near the window--dishes,
furniture, everything. If they pass this way, I'll smash them!
ANOTHER WOMAN [_at her window_]. My kettle's been on the fire
since dinner. The water's hot enough to boil paving-stones. Let
them come! I'll boil them!
A VAGABOND [_with a gun, speaking to a Bourgeois_]. Give me some
money.
THE BOURGEOIS. No begging here.
THE VAGABOND. I'm not asking for bread, though I am starving.
But I have a musket, and not a son to buy powder with. Give me
some money.
ANOTHER VAGABOND [_a little drunk_]. I've got money, much as you
like! [_He pulls a handful of money from his pocket_.]
FIRST VAGABOND. Where did you get that?
SECOND VAGABOND. I took it from the Lazarists when they pillaged
the convent.
FIRST VAGABOND [_seizing the other by the throat_]. Do you want
to dishonor the people, you pig?
SECOND VAGABOND [_trying to break away_]. What's matter? Are you
crazy?
FIRST VAGABOND [_shaking him_]. Empty your pockets!
SECOND VAGABOND. But I--
FIRST VAGABOND [_emptying his pockets_]. Empty your pockets, you
thief!
SECOND VAGABOND. Haven't we the right to rob the aristos any
more, eh?
THE OTHERS. Hang him! Hang him!--Hang him on the sign-board!--A
flogging is enough!--Ask pardon of the people!--Good!--Now, get
out! [_The Vagabond runs away._]
FIRST VAGABOND [_setting to work_]. He ought to have been
hanged--for an example. There will be others like him. To be
exposed to such nastiness--keep company with thieves! It's nasty.
CAMILLE DESMOULINS [_entering, in his usual absent-minded idle
way_]. A spanking will be enough for you. [_They all laugh and
set to work again._]
THE PEOPLE. Well, let's finish this.
DESMOULINS [_looking at the house and the workers_]. My Lucile
is there. I've just been to see her. The house was empty. They
told me the family went out to dinner with relatives in the
Faubourg Saint-Antoine. They've been blockaded!--Well, I should
think so! A splendid fortification! Scarp and counter-scarp,
everything perfect. They are besieging the house. But, my
friends, we have to demolish the Bastille, and not construct
another like it. I don't know what your enemies will think, but
it is in any case dangerous to your friends: I've just gotten
my feet tangled up in your strings, and I almost stayed where I
was.--This cask won't stand. You must put back the paving-blocks.
THE CARPENTER. Do you work as well as you talk?
DESMOULINS [_gaily, as he takes up a block_]. I can work, too.
[_From the top of the barricade, where he now stands, he can
touch the window of the house. A light is seen moving inside._
DESMOULINS _looks at it._] She is there!
THE OLD BOURGEOIS. Provost Flesselles is a traitor. He pretends
to be one of us, but he's in communication with Versailles.
THE MASON. He's the one who organized the Bourgeois Militia; it
pretends to defend us, but it tries to tie our hands. They're
all Judases, ready to sell us.
THE CARPENTER. That only teaches us not to depend on any one but
ourselves. But I've known that for a long while. [_During the
above,_ CAMILLE _lightly taps the window, and calls "Lucile!_"
_The light disappears, and the window opens._ LUCILE'S _pretty
face, with her lovely teeth and winning smile, appear at the
window. Each puts his fingers to his mouth, a warning to be
careful. They converse by means of lovers' signs. Each time the
workers false their heads from the barricade and look in her
direction, Lucile quickly shuts the window. But two workingmen
catch sight of her._]
A WORKINGMAN [_pointing to_ DESMOULINS]. What's he doing anyway?
SECOND WORKINGMAN. The little fellow's in love. Don't bother him!
FIRST WORKINGMAN. He'll fight all the better for it. The rooster
will defend his hen. [_They continue working, from time to
time glancing up good-naturedly at the lovers. But they always
observe caution, in order not to interrupt them._]
LUCILE [_in an undertone_]. What are you doing there?
DESMOULINS. It's a fort to defend you. [_They look at each other
and smile._]
LUCILE. I can't stay any longer. My people are here.
DESMOULINS. Just one moment!
LUCILE. Later. When every one has gone. [LUCILE _listens._]
They're calling me. Wait. [_She blows a kiss at him and
disappears._]
THE MASON [_looking at the barricade_]. There, that's done--and
well done, I may say.
THE CARPENTER [_slapping_ DESMOULINS _on the shoulder_]. Don't
work too hard: you'll come down with pleurisy.
DESMOULINS. Each one has his work, comrade. After all, this
barricade here is the result of my talk.
THE MASON. What are you talking about?
THE CARPENTER. Do you work with your voice?
DESMOULINS. Was neither, of you at the Palais-Royal yesterday?
THE CROWD. The Palais-Royal?--Listen to that!--Are you the
little fellow who called us to arms, and gave us our cockades?
Are you Monsieur Desmoulins? Wonderful speech!--How well you
spoke! I cried! Fine little fellow!--Monsieur Desmoulins, let me
shake hands with you!--Long live Monsieur Desmoulins! Long live
our little Camille!
GONCHON [_enters, in the uniform of a Captain of the Bourgeois
Militia, followed by his patrol._] What the devil are you doing
there? What's all this talking! You're disturbing the peace!
Make way, there! Go back home!
THE PEOPLE. There's that damned Bourgeois Guard again!--Down
with them!--Disturb the peace? That's good!--We're defending
Paris!
GONCHON. That's not your affair.
THE PEOPLE [_indignantly_]. Not our affair?
GONCHON [_with vehemence_]. That's not your affair. That's our
business, and ours alone. We are the Permanent Committee on
defense. Damn you, get out of here!
DESMOULINS [_coming close to him_]. Why, it's Gonchon!
GONCHON [_stumbling_]. Ten thousand devils! For God's sake, what
sons of dogs have put up that thing, torn up the street, and
stopped traffic! Knock that down, do you hear!
THE PEOPLE [_furiously_]. Knock down our barricade? Try it!
THE CARPENTER. Listen to me, Captain, and attend to what I say.
We'll agree to go away and not question the Committee's orders,
even though they're given by fools. There must be discipline in
war-time; we're willing to submit, but if you touch one stone of
our fortification, we'll smash the faces of you and the rest of
your monkeys.
THE PEOPLE. Tear down our barricade?
GONCHON. Who said anything about tearing it down? Are we masons?
We have something better to do. Make way now!
THE MASON [_in a menacing tone_]. We'll go, but you understand?
GONCHON [_with aplomb],_ I said no one would touch it. No
back-talk, now! [_The workers disperse._ DESMOULINS _lags
behind._] Didn't you hear, you?
DESMOULINS. Don't you allow any privileges to your friends,
Gonchon?
GONCHON. Oh, it's you, you damned spouter! Arrest that fellow!
ROBESPIERRE [_entering_]. Sacrilege! Who dares lift a hand
against the founder of Liberty?
DESMOULINS. Ah, Robespierre! Thanks.
GONCHON [_releasing_ DESMOULINS--_aside],_ A Deputy! The devil!
[_Aloud._] Very well. You see, it is my duty to keep order, and
I will keep it in spite of everything.
ROBESPIERRE. Come with me, Camille. Our friends are meeting in
this house tonight. [_He points to the house down-stagey left._]
DESMOULINS [_aside]._ I can see Lucile's window from here!
[_They go to the house, at the door of which, in an obscure
entrance, a man is on guard. He is in his shirt sleeves, has
bare legs, and carries a musket._]
THE MAN. Who are you?
ROBESPIERRE. Robespierre.
THE MAN. I don't know you.
ROBESPIERRE. Deputy from Arras.
THE MAN. Show your card.
DESMOULINS. Desmoulins.
THE MAN. The little fellow with the cockade? Pass, comrade.
DESMOULINS [_pointing to_ ROBESPIERRE]. He is with me.
THE MAN. Pass, you, too, citizen Robert Pierre.
DESMOULINS [_fatuously_]. Admire the power of eloquence, my
friend! [ROBESPIERRE _looks at him with a bitter smile, sighs,
and follows him without a word_.]
GONCHON [_going to_ THE MAN]. What's going on here?
THE MAN. Make way!
GONCHON. What's that, you rascal? What are you doing here?
THE MAN [_emphatically_]. I am watching over the nation--over
the thoughts of the nation.
GONCHON. What are you talking about? Have you any papers? Who
stationed you here?
THE MAN. I.
GONCHON. Go home!
THE MAN. I am home. My home is the street. I have no home.
You go home yourself. Get off my side-walk! [_He makes a step
toward_ GONCHON _with a threat_.]
GONCHON. Ah! No quarreling, now. I refuse to waste my time
squabbling with a drunkard. Now, I shall continue on my rounds.
These cursed vagabonds!
And these barricades--they spring up out of the ground, like
mushrooms; and the streets are full of these fellows! They think
of nothing but fighting! If they were let alone, there would be
no king tomorrow! [_He goes out with his men._]
THE MAN. Look at those nasty scoundrels, those blue toads, those
idiotic fools! Just because they're titled, they think they
can make laws for free men! Bourgeois! The moment four of them
gather together, they form committees and spoil good paper with
their rules and regulations! "Show your papers!" As if we had to
have their permission, their signatures, and the rest of it,
to defend ourselves when we're attacked! Let every one protect
himself! It's shameful to think a man has to let some one else
defend him! They tried to make us give up our muskets, and throw
us into prison. Can't do that! And those other fools, who think
they're being betrayed, and at the first injunction, throw up
a barricade out of respect for the constituted authorities and
the moneyed classes! They're used to serving, and I suppose
they can't get over their old habits in a day. Luckily, there
are other wandering dogs like me, who haven't any home, and
respect nothing. Well, I'll stay here and keep guard. By God,
they won't take our Paris! Never mind if I haven't a thing to
my name, it belongs to us all, and we're going to hold on to
it. Yesterday, I didn't have any idea of all this. What was
this city to me, where I hadn't a blessed hole to crawl into
when it rained, or a place to get a crust of bread? What did
I care about it? What did I care about any one's happiness or
sorrow? But now everything's changed. I've got a part to play; I
feel that everything belongs just a little to me: their houses,
their money, and their thoughts--I must watch over them; they
are working for me. Everybody is equal, equal and free. God, I
always felt that, but I couldn't say it. Free! I'm a vagabond,
I'm hungry, but I don't care: I'm free. Free! It makes my chest
swell, it does! I'm a king. I could walk over the world. [_He
becomes excited as he talks, striding back and forth._] It's
like as if I was drunk; my head's turned--though I haven't drunk
a drop. What is it? It's glory!
HULIN [_coming from the house_]. I was stifling in there. I must
get out.
THE MAN. Eh, Hulin, what are they doing?
HULIN. Talking, talking. The damned gossips. They're never at
a loss for something to say. Desmoulins is making jokes and
spouting Latin. Robespierre, with his long face, declares he'll
sacrifice himself. They're calling everything into question:
laws, the social contract, reason, the origin of the world. One
is making war on God, and the other on Nature. As to real war
plans, how to protect themselves against danger, not a word!
Their counsel is like that in Paris: when it rains, why let it
rain!--Devil take these phrasemakers!
THE MAN. Don't blame them. It's a fine thing to be able to
speak. I tell you, there are words he uses that catch you
way-down inside. They make the shivers run up your spine. They
make you cry, they'd make you even kill your father; and they
make you feel as strong as the whole world; make you feel like
the good God Himself. Each man has his own work to do. They do
the thinking for us; we've got to do our part for them.
HULIN. What do you want to do? Look. [_He indicates the
Bastille._]
THE MAN. Lights on the left tower. They're not sleeping any more
than we, up there. They're fixing up their cannon.
HULIN. What do you intend to do with them? You can't resist them.
THE MAN. That remains to be seen.
HULIN. What do you mean?
THE MAN. I mean, that remains to be seen. Two small make one
great.
HULIN. You are an optimist.
THE MAN. It's my character.
HULIN. It doesn't seem to have agreed with you, however.
THE MAN [_good-naturedly_]. But I am naturally an optimist. Luck
and I are not close relatives. As long as I can remember, I
never got anything I wanted. [_Laughing._] Good Lord, I've had
bad luck enough in my life! Everything isn't pleasure; life is a
mixture. But I don't care: I'm always hoping, and sometimes I'm
wrong. This time, Hulin, something good's come to me. The wind
has shifted, and luck is with us.
HULIN [_chaffingly_]. Luck? You'd better ask it to warm you up a
bit first.
THE MAN [_looking at his naked feet_]. I'd rather wear these
shoes than the King's. I'd go this way to Vienna or Berlin, if
necessary, to teach those kings a lesson.
HULIN. Haven't you enough to do here?
THE MAN. That won't last forever, When we're through here, and
have cleaned up Paris and France, why not go the lot of us,
arm-in-arm, soldiers, bourgeois, Tom, Dick, and Harry, and clean
up Europe? We aren't selfish: we don't want all the fun for
ourselves. You know, every time I learn something new, I want
to tell it to others. Ever since these things began to stir in
me--Liberty, and all this damned fine stuff--I feel I've just
got to tell it to everybody, and spout it everywhere. God, if
the others are like me, we'll do great things. I can already see
the ground trembling under our feet, and Europe boiling like
wine in a vat. People are falling on our necks. It's like little
brooks rushing down to meet the river. We're a great river,
washing everything clean.
HULIN. Say, are you sick?
THE MAN. I? I'm as well as a cabbage.
HULIN. And yet you dream?
THE MAN. All the time. It's good, too. If you dream enough, you
end by getting something of what you're dreaming about. Hey,
Hulin, what do you say? Won't it be a fine march? Aren't you
coming with us?
HULIN. As soon as you've taken Vienna and Berlin, I'll keep
watch over them.
THE MAN. Don't joke. Who knows?
HULIN. Anything can happen--
THE MAN. Anything you wish for happens.
HULIN. Meantime I'd like to know what's going to happen right
now.
THE MAN. That's hard to tell. How are we going about it? We'll
see. Sufficient unto the hour is the work thereof.
HULIN. These French devils are all alike. They think of what may
happen in a hundred years, and not of the next day.
THE MAN. Perhaps. But then others will think of us in a hundred
years.
HULIN. Much good that you!
THE MAN. My bones thrill already! What troubles me is that in
history they won't know my name.
HULIN. You're vain!
THE MAN. Well, I love glory.
HULIN. It's a fine thing, of course. The only trouble is that
you can't enjoy it until you're dead. A good pipe is better.
[VINTIMILLE _enters right._]
VINTIMILLE. The streets are empty. Two vagabonds talking about
glory. A little mound of broken furniture, put there by a lot of
epileptics. So this is the great revolution! A patrol of guards
is enough to put the rabble in its place. What are they waiting
for at Versailles?
THE MAN [_getting up quickly and going to_ VINTIMILLE]. What's
he want?
VINTIMILLE [_ironically, as he glances at_ THE MAN]. Is this a
new uniform of the Archers? Get out of here, old man!
THE MAN. Who are you? Where are you going at this hour?
VINTIMILLE [_handing him a paper_]. Can you read?
THE MAN. Papers? Of course, I can read. [_To_ HULIN.] You read
them. What is it?
HULIN [_after having read_]. A pass. It's all right. Signed
by the Committee of the Hötel de Ville. Countersigned by the
Captain of the Bourgeois Militia, Gonchon.
THE MAN. Good joke! Anybody can buy those. [_He grumblingly
allows_ VINTIMILLE _to pass._]
VINTIMILLE. Of course! Everything can be bought. [_As he turns
to go, he throws a coin at_ THE MAN.]
THE MAN [_on the alert_]. What! What's that?
VINTIMILLE [_without turning_]. You see. Take it and keep your
mouth shut.
THE MAN [_running to_ VINTIMILLE _and blocking his way_]. So
you're an aristocrat? You're trying to bribe me?
HULIN [_interposing_]. Don't, comrade, don't. I know him very
well. [_He goes to_ VINTIMILLE.]
VINTIMILLE [_casually_]. Why, it's--
HULIN. Hulin.
VINTIMILLE. Of course. [_A moment's silence. They look at each
other._]
HULIN [_to_ THE MAN]. Let him pass.
THE MAN [_furiously--shouting_]. He wanted to bribe me--he
wanted to buy my conscience!
VINTIMILLE. Your conscience? What should I do with it? The idea!
I pay for favors done me. Quick! Take it.
THE MAN. I'm not doing favors! I'm doing my duty.
VINTIMILLE. Then it's to pay you for doing your duty. What do I
care?
THE MAN. You don't pay people for doing their duty. I am free!
VINTIMILLE. Your duty and your liberty won't feed you. I refuse
to argue. Hurry up, now; money is always good, no matter how one
gets it. Don't stand there like that; you know you want it. I
know you'll end by taking it. I suppose you want more, eh? How
much do you want, free man?
THE MAN [_who has several times been on the point of taking the
money, jumps upon_ VINTIMILLE. HULIN _pulls him away_]. Let me
go, Hulin! Let me go!
HULIN. Stop it!
THE MAN. I've got to kill him!
VINTIMILLE. What's this!
THE MAN [_held back by_ HULIN, _says to_ VINTIMILLE]. Get out!
Why did you come here, anyway? I was happy, I didn't realize
how poor I was. I was free, master of everything. You remind me
that I'm hungry, that I haven't a thing, that I don't belong to
myself, that a filthy scoundrel can be my master by means of a
little money that makes a slave of me because I need it. You've
spoiled all my happiness. Get out!
VINTIMILLE. What a to-do for so little! Who gives a damn about
your scruples? I'm not asking anything of you. Take it!
THE MAN. I'd rather starve.--You give it to me, Hulin.
[VINTIMILLE _gives the money to_ HULIN, _who drops his hand. The
money falls to the ground, and_ THE MAN _picks it up._]
HULIN. Where are you going?
THE MAN. Get drunk--and forget.
VINTIMILLE. Forget what?
THE MAN. That I'm not free. Dirty scoundrel! [_He goes out_.]
VINTIMILLE. The pest! There's nothing quite so bad as a rascal
like that who develops his self-respect, and is without means to
preserve it. Good evening, my boy, and thank you.
HULIN. Thank you. I didn't mention your name, because you'd
never have escaped alive. It would have been disloyal of me,
and I am an honest man. Anyway, I dislike violence, and I don't
believe in revolution. But I am not one of you, and I don't care
to bring harm to my comrades. What are you doing here?
VINTIMILLE. You are inquisitive!
HULIN. I beg your pardon, but you are playing with death. Do you
realize how people hate you?
VINTIMILLE. I have just been to see my mistress. Shall I change
my habits for the sake of two or three madmen?
HULIN. There are more than you imagine.
VINTIMILLE. So much the better. The more numerous and insolent
they are, the better, say I.
HULIN. Better for whom?
VINTIMILLE. For us. Our age is rotten with sentimentality. You
don't dare do a thing. One dare not give an order for fear of
offending this damned liberty of the populace--and shedding a
few drops of blood. This effeminacy is the cause of all the
disorders of the kingdom. The only cure for so much evil is more
evil. A good uprising is what we need. That will be a splendid
reason and pretext for putting them in their place. We are
ready. We can do it in a day, and we won't be troubled again for
a good fifty years with these insane ravings of philosophers and
cheap lawyers.
HULIN. So then, a revolution would do that for you? You don't
object to the people having a grand butchery? A few crimes, eh?
VINTIMILLE. Why not? Something that will create quite a
disturbance.
HULIN. What if they began with you?
VINTIMILLE. The idea!
HULIN. Do you know what I'd like to do this instant?
VINTIMILLE. No.
HULIN. Don't provoke me!
VINTIMILLE. But you wouldn't do anything, my friend. You are an
honest man!
HULIN. What do you know about that? I said I was; I was boasting.
VINTIMILLE. No, no, but you are now. Even if you had said
nothing, I could have seen it in your face.
HULIN. Is that a reason why I shouldn't inform on you if I like.
VINTIMILLE. Certainly. You must pay for your honesty by
sacrifice. What would you think of yourself, Hulin, if you
betrayed me? Would you not lose forever that invaluable
possession: your self-esteem? It's not so easy as you think to
go against your conscience. As you say, you are an honest man.
Good-by. [_He goes._]
HULIN. He's making game of me. He knows me.--It's true, those
villains will always have the better of us honest people,
because they're used to giving orders, and we are not. Then
why remain honest, if it's all a fraud? Because we can't do
otherwise. Well, it's better so. I couldn't breathe if I were
as morally rotten and nasty as they are! I know they'll get
the better of us. The day is at hand. But it would have been
wonderful to win. They're going to crush us! [_He shrugs his
shoulders_.] And--after? [_In the distance is heard the joyous
voice of_ HOCHE, _answered by the acclamations of the Crowd.
Windows are thrown wide open, and people lean out to see._
DESMOULINS, ROBESPIERRE, _and their friends come 'forth from the
cafe where they have been meeting_.]
HOCHE [_enters laughing, and shows his comrades the
fortifications_]. Look at this. What Vauban built it, eh? Fine
fellows! I could kiss you all! What work they must have put into
it! And why? Against whom? Your friends? The enemy will never
come. Don't worry.
THE PEOPLE. Long live the French Guards!
[MARAT _runs to_ HOCHE, _and bars his way with outstretched
arms_.]
MARAT. Stop, soldier! Not another step. [_The Crowd, astonished,
press around them to see._]
DESMOULINS. What's the matter with him? Has he lost his head?
HULIN. Yes, long ago!
MARAT. Surrender your saber! Every one give up his arms!
DESMOULINS. He'll cut himself.
THE FRENCH GUARDS. What's that!--Give up my saber?--I'll give it
to you in the belly!
THE PEOPLE. Kill him!
HOCHE. Silence! Let me explain. I know him.--Let me go, friend!
MARAT [_standing on the tips of his toes to take_ HOCHE _by the
collar_]. Give up your saber!
HOCHE [_quietly freeing himself, and taking hold of_ MARAT, _who
squirms_]. What are you going to do with it, son?
MARAT. Keep you from thrusting it into the heart of Liberty.
HOCHE. Do you suspect those who have come to shed their blood
for the people?
MARAT. Who guarantees your loyalty? Why should we have
confidence in unknown soldiers?
THE FRENCH GUARDS. Break his head, Hoche! [HOCHE _quiets them
with a gesture, looks smilingly at_ MARAT, _and releases him_.]
He is right. Why have confidence in us? He has never seen us
at work. [MARAT, _with not a word to say, suddenly assumes an
attitude of silent impassiveness_.] Good Lord, it is hard to let
yourself be accused when you're risking death for those birds!
HOCHE. Why, he doesn't know us. That makes no difference.
[_Good-naturedly_.] But you're mistaken. Marat, you have done
well to take such precautions for the people. [_To the People_.]
We'll understand each other in a moment. A glance will prove
that we are all good fellows, and believe in one another. But
he is wise and has given us a lesson in prudence: this is
war-time, and you have the right to demand an account from every
one. No one can be excepted.
THE PEOPLE. We know you, Hoche, you're a friend!
HOCHE. Be careful with your friends. [_Smiling_]. That doesn't
refer to me. Your uncertain position does not make many friends
for you, and what few you have, are not dangerous. But when you
become powerful, you will see them flock to you; then you must
keep your eyes open.
THE FRENCH GUARDS. That's good advice.--Be prudent, that's
right! Trust no one!
HOCHE [_laughing_]. When two eyes please me, I ask nothing
more. But I'm a fool, and that's my affair. You have to save
the world. Don't imitate me. We are only a few hundred French
Guards. Our officers, who know our sympathies for the people,
tried to send us to Saint-Denis, away from you. But we left
our barracks and now we offer our sabers to you. In order to
reassure Marat, divide yourselves into groups of ten or twenty;
then each group takes its place in a people's battalion. Then
you will be our masters, and we can lead you and train you. Will
you come with me, Marat? We can each learn something from the
other. You'll see that there are still brave men; and perhaps
you will teach me to hunt down traitors--though I think your
labor will be lost. [MARAT, _whose eyes have been glued on_
HOCHE, _goes to him and offers his hand._]
MARAT. I was mistaken.
HOCHE [_takes his hand and smiles_]. How tiresome it must be to
suspect people! I'd rather die.
MARAT [_sighing_]. So would I. But as you said just now, it is
not for us, but for the nation.
HOCHE. Continue to keep a sharp watch over the people. I don't
envy you: my task is much easier.
MARAT [_looking at_ HOCHE]. Oh, Nature, if the eyes and voice of
this man lie, there is no honesty! Soldier, I have offended you
before every one. And before every one, I ask your pardon.
HOCHE. But you didn't offend me. No one knows better than I
what a military chief is, and what dangers beset the cause of
Liberty. Military discipline makes every man a slave; men cannot
like it: we abhor it as much as you do. We have ourselves just
broken the blind power that was in our hands. Open your arms
to us, make room for us at your tables, give us back our lost
liberty, our cramped consciences, our right to be men like you,
your equals and your brothers. Soldiers, become again part of
the People. And you, People, all of you, become the Army; defend
yourselves, defend us, and defend our souls, which are being
attacked. Give us your hands, embrace us, let us be but one
heart. You are all of you our friends. All of us for all of us!
THE PEOPLE _and the_ SOLDIERS [_in an ecstasy of fraternal
enthusiasm, laughing, crying, embracing one another_]. Yes,
for you, for you! Our brothers the people! Our soldier
brothers!--For all who suffer! For the oppressed!--For all
mankind! [_The enthusiasm waxes into a pandemonium, and is
increased with cries and cheers from the windows of the
neighboring houses_.]
HULIN. Hurrah! Hoche! At last, some one who dispels the sadness!
HOCHE [_amiably, to the people who acclaim him from the
windows_]. What are you doing there at home? Why shut yourselves
in on a beautiful July night like this? Man is sad when he is
alone. It is the fetid air of the cellar that breeds suspicion
and doubt. Come forth from your houses; you've been shut up too
long. You must live now in the open streets. Come out and watch
the sun rise. The enslaved city now breathes freely; the cool
winds from the prairies are blowing over the houses and the
streets that are blocked by our armies; they bring us the salute
from the friendly countryside. The grain is ripe, come and reap
it.
LA CONTAT. What a splendid fellow! He breathes joy and
happiness. [_She goes toward_ HOCHE.]
HOCHE. Ah, there you are, you flower-girl of Liberty! Madame
Royalist, who stripped the trees of the Palais-Royal and threw
cockades to the people. I knew you would come. Do you at last
believe in our cause?
LA CONTAT. I believe in anything you say. With _a face like
yours_--[_she points, to his face_] I could always be converted.
[_The People laugh._]
HOCHE [_laughing_]. I'm not surprised. I always knew I had an
apostolic temperament. Well, take your place, then. We won't
refuse any one. Take a pike: a girl like you ought to defend
herself.
LA CONTAT. Oh, oh, don't enroll me so quickly! I look on, I
applaud, and I find the piece interesting, but I'm not playing
this evening.
HOCHE. So you think it's merely interesting? You think it is
play? Look at this poor devil, his bones sticking out of his
blouse, and this woman nursing her child. Is it amusing to see
them starve? You think it a good comedy to see these people,
without bread, without a future, thinking only of humanity, and
of eternal justice? Don't you think it's at least as serious as
a Corneille tragedy?
LA CONTAT. That, too, is only a play.
HOCHE. Nothing is play. Everything is serious. Cinna and
Nicomède exist, just as I do.
LA CONTAT. You are strange! Actors and authors construct
make-believe things, which you accept as gospel!
HOCHE. You're mistaken, it isn't make-believe for you: you don't
know yourself.
LA CONTAT. You make me laugh! Do _you_ know me?
HOCHE. I've seen you on the stage.
LA CONTAT. And do you imagine I _feel_ what I act?
HOCHE. You can't deny it: your instinct makes you feel. A power
is never an illusion; it carries you along. I know better than
you what it does to you.
LA CONTAT. What?
HOCHE. What is strong goes with what is strong. You will be one
of us.
LA CONTAT. I don't think so.
HOCHE. What difference? There are only two parties in the
world: the healthy and the sick. What is healthy goes with life.
Life is with us. Come!
LA CONTAT. With you--willingly.
HOCHE. So you won't decide! Very well, we'll see later on, if we
have time to think.
LA CONTAT. There is always time for love.
HOCHE. You've been made to think that too often. Do you think
our revolution is going to be merely some gallant little story?
Ah, you little women! During the fifty years you have been
governing France, and had everything brought you, done for you,
did it never enter your heads that there might be something more
important than your dainty selves? Play is over and done with,
Madame. This is a serious game, in which the stake is the world
itself. Make way for the men! If you dare, follow us to battle,
help us, share our faith, but, by God, don't dare try to shake
it. You count for very little beside it. I'm not angry, Contat!
I have no time for a flirtation, and as for my heart, it already
belongs to some one else.
LA CONTAT. To whom?
HOCHE. To Liberty.
LA CONTAT. I'd like to know what she looks like.
HOCHE. She is a little like you, I imagine. Very healthy,
well-built, blonde, passionate, audacious, but rouged like
yourself, with beauty-spots--ironic, too; but she _does,_
instead of making fun of those who do; and instead of making
double-meaning phrases, she breathes words of devotion and
fraternity. I am her lover. When you are like her, I will love
you. That is all I have to say.
LA CONTAT. I like her, and I will have you. Now, to battle!
[_She snatches a musket from one of the People, and declaims
with great warmth, a few lines from "Cinna":_]
"Thou need'st fear no success which shames thy name!
For good and evil both are for thy glory,
And though the plot's reveal'd and thou dost die,
Thy honor's still intact. Think but of Brutus
And valiant Cassius, are their names obscured?
Did these two heroes perish with their plots?
Are they not honored with the greatest Romans?
. . . . . . . . . .
Go, follow them, where honor bids you tread!"
[_She rushes into the arms of the People, who wildly applaud
her._]
HOCHE. Splendid! Let Corneille be our guide! Wave the torch of
heroism before our eyes!
HULIN. Where are you going?
HOCHE. Where are we going? [_He raises his eyes, and looks at
the house of little_ JULIE _who, partly dressed, leans out the
window, excited and joyous_.] Ask that little woman. I want her
to give the answer which is in all our hearts. You innocent
little one, be our voice, and tell us where we are going?
JULIE [_leaning far out of the window, but kept from falling by
her mother,--shouting at the top of her voice_]. To the Bastille!
THE PEOPLE. To the Bastille! [_The Crowd is at the highest pitch
of excitement. They gather into little groups--workingmen,
bourgeois, students, and women._] The Bastille! The Bastille!
Break the yoke! At last! Down with that stupid mass! Monument
of our defeat and degradation! The tomb, of those who dare
speak the truth!--Voltaire's prison!--Mirabeau's prison!--The
prison of Liberty! Let's breathe!--Monster, you will fall! We'll
pull down every stone of you! Down with the murderer! Coward
--Cut-throat! [_They shake their fists at the Bastille, and
shout until they are hoarse._ HULIN, ROBESPIERRE, _and_ MARAT
_wildly wave their arms, and try to make themselves heard above
the clamor. It is seen that they disapprove of what the People
are doing, but their voices are drowned out._]
HULIN [_at last making himself heard_]. You're mad, mad, I tell
you! We'll only break ourselves against that mountain!
MARAT [his _arms crossed_]. I really marvel at you! Giving
yourselves all this trouble to free a handful of aristocrats!
Don't you know that there are only a few rich men in there? It's
a luxurious prison, made especially for them. Let them mind
their own affairs. That doesn't concern you.
HOCHE. Every sort of injustice concerns us. Our Revolution is
not a family matter. If we are not rich enough to have relations
in the Bastille, we can at least adopt the rich people who
are as unfortunate as we. Every man who suffers unjustly is a
brother.
MARAT. You are right.
THE PEOPLE. We want the Bastille!
HULIN. But, you fools, how are you going to take it? We have no
weapons, and they have!
HOCHE. Of course. Let us take the weapons, then. [_Confusion at
the back of the stage._]
A WORKINGMAN [_running in_]. I've just come from the Left Bank.
They're all on the move: in the Place Maubert, La Basoche,
La Montagne Sainte-Geneviève. They're marching against the
Invalides to seize the weapons there--thousands of muskets! The
French Guards, monks, women, students, a whole army. The King's
Attorney and the Curé de Saint-Etienne-du-Mont are marching at
their head.
HOCHE. You were asking for weapons, Hulin. There they are.
HULIN. You can't take the Bastille with a few hundred old
arquebuses, or even a few good cannon from the Invalides. You
might as well try to split a rock open with a knife.
HOCHE. No, the Bastille can't be taken with cannon, but it will
be taken.
HULIN. How?
HOCHE. The Bastille must fall, and fall it will. The gods are
with us.
HULIN [_with a shrug_]. What gods?
HOCHE. Justice, Reason. Bastille, you will fall!
THE PEOPLE. You will fall!
HULIN. I'd rather see a few real allies. I don't believe in it.
Never mind, it shall never be said that any one got ahead of me.
I'll even be the first to march against it. Perhaps you know
better than I what must be done, but I'll do it. So, you want to
attack the Bastille, you fools? Forward!
HOCHE. By God, you can do anything simply by saying it's
possible! [GONCHON _returns with his patrol._]
GONCHON. Still here! The damned vermin! Chase them from one
place and they go to another. So this is how you obey me? Didn't
I command you to go home? [_Taking a man by the collar_.] You
heard me! I know you, you were here before! You rascal, I've had
enough of you, and I'm going to arrest you. I'll arrest you all.
It's our business to maintain order. Every citizen abroad at
night without a passport is open to suspicion.
HOCHE [_laughing_]. The beast wants to cheat the people!
MARAT. Who is this traitor who pretends to speak for the People?
By what right does his odious voice give orders to the Nation? I
know that big fellow, with a face like Silenus, puffy from long
indulgence, and sweating from debauchery. Does this monopolist
believe he has a monopoly over our Revolution? Can he lord it
over us as he does over his Palais-Royal orgies? Get out, or I
will arrest you in the name of the Sovereign People!
GONCHON [_stammering_], I--I am the representative of power. I
have been appointed by the Central Committee.
THE PEOPLE. We are the power! We appoint the Central Committee!
You obey us!
MARAT [_with an air of ferocity which is at bottom nothing more
than a sinister buffoonery, assumed to terrify_ GONCHON]. We
must be careful with these traitors, who associate with the
people only in order to betray them. Hoche has well said that
if we are not on the lookout, we shall be overpowered. I think
that in order to distinguish those who are the valets of the
aristocrats from the others, we ought to cut off their ears, or
rather their thumbs. It is a prudent and indispensable measure.
[_The People laugh._]
GONCHON [_tremblingly, to_ HOCHE]. Soldier, it is your business
to support the law--
HOCHE. That's your business. They won't hurt you. Go ahead, we
shall follow.
GONCHON. Follow me? Where?
HOCHE. To the Bastille.
GONCHON. What!
HOCHE. Of course. We are going to take the Bastille. Are you
not defending the people, you Bourgeois Militia? Then take you
places in the front ranks. Fall in, and don't stop to argue.
You don't seemed pleased with the prospect? [_Speaking into_
GONCHON'S _ear._] I know your tricks, old man; you are in
communication with the Due d'Orléans. Now, not a word, and march
straight ahead. I am keeping my eye on you, and I have only to
say the word to Marat. It's not day yet, and you might light the
way for us, hanging from one of those lamp-posts!
GONCHON. Let me go home!
HOCHE. Choose: be hanged or take the Bastille.
GONCHON [_quickly_]. Take the Bastille! [_The People laugh._]
HOCHE. Brave man! And now, the people will not allow the
Montagne Sainte-Geneviève to outwit us. Let Saint-Antoine not
remain idle while Saint-Jacques does her share! Ring your bells,
beat your drums, and call out the citizens. [_To the Electors
and Deputies._] You, citizens, guard the Hötel de Ville, and see
that no treachery is done. Take charge of the bourgeois! Now,
we'll gag the beast. [_Points to the Bastille. Little_ JULIE
_has meanwhile come from the house with her mother, and stands
in the doorway. She then stands on a post to see better, and
looks at_ HOCHE _in silent and passionate admiration._ HOCHE
_looks at her and smiles_.] Well, little one, do you want to
come, too? Consumed with envy, aren't you? [_She holds out her
trembling arms to him, nodding, but says nothing._] Then come!
[_He takes her on his shoulder._]
THE MOTHER. You're mad! Put her down! You're not going to take
her into the fight?
HOCHE. She is sending us into the fight! She is our
standard-bearer!
THE MOTHER. Don't take her from me!
HOCHE. You come, too, mother! No one should stay at home today.
The snail must come forth from its shell. The whole city is
freed from prison today. We leave nothing behind. This isn't an
army at war, it is an invasion.
THE MOTHER. Indeed, it is. If we must die, it's better to die
all together.
HOCHE. Die? Nonsense. You don't die when you expect death! [_The
sky begins to brighten behind the houses and the solid mass of
the Bastille._] At last! Day is breaking. The new day, the dawn
of Liberty!
JULIE [_who, seated on_ HOCHE'S _shoulders, has been all smiles,
excited and quiet, and with a finger to her lips, begins
singing one of the national songs of the day]:_
"Oh, come, Thou god of Liberty
And fill our souls this day--"
HOCHE [_laughing_]. Do you hear the little sparrow? [_The People
laugh._] Come, then, with light hearts. Let us march ahead of
the sun! [_He takes up_ JULIE'S _song, and begins marching. All
the People join in the song. A little flute carries the air.
Shouts and enthusiastic cheering resound; bells ring._ GONCHON
_and his trembling Militia are urged on by the jeering crowd,
among which_ LA CONTAT _and_ HULIN _are distinguished. Men and
women come forth from, the houses and join the throng. A tempest
of joy. As the People file off,_ DESMOULINS, _following them a
way, returns, quickly mounts the barricade, goes to_ LUCILE'S
_window, and looks in. During the rest of the act, the noise of
the crowd is heard in the distance. A few people continue to
come from the houses, but they pay no attention to the lovers._]
CAMILLE [_in an undertone_]. Lucile! [_The window softly opens,
and_ LUCILE _appears, then puts her arm about_ CAMILLE'S _neck._]
LUCILE. Camille! [_They kiss._]
CAMILLE. You were there!
LUCILE. Sh! They're sleeping in the next room. I was hidden in
there. I stayed all the while. I heard and saw everything.
CAMILLE. Didn't you go to bed at all?
LUCILE. How could I sleep with all that noise? Oh, Camille, how
they cheered you!
CAMILLE [_pleased_]. Did you hear them?
LUCILE. The windows shook with it. I smiled to myself in my
corner. I wanted to shout, too. I couldn't, so I just stood up
on a chair--guess what I did?
CAMILLE. How can I guess?
LUCILE. Guess--if you love me. If you didn't feel anything, then
you don't love me. What did I send you?
CAMILLE. Kisses.
LUCILE. You do love me! Yes, I did. Whole basketfuls. Some of
them went to those who were cheering you. How they cheered! How
famous you've become, my Camille, in one day! Last week, your
Lucile was the only person who knew you, who realized how great
you were. But today, a whole people--
CAMILLE. Listen! [_They hear the joyful cries of the People._]
LUCILE. That's all your work.
CAMILLE. I can't believe it myself.
LUCILE. Just by what you said! How did you do it? They told me
every one was mad with excitement. I wish I had been there!
CAMILLE. I really don't know what I said. I felt as if I
were lifted up into the air. I heard my own voice and saw my
gestures exactly as if they belonged to some one else. Every one
cried--and I cried with the rest. Then after I finished, they
carried me on their shoulders. I never saw anything like it.
LUCILE. My great man, my Patru, my Demosthenes! And you were
able to speak before that great crowd? Weren't you at all
nervous? Didn't you forget what you were going to say? You
didn't do as you--sometimes do--?
CAMILLE. What?
LUCILE. You know--like--like a bottle that's too full--and the
water can't come out--? [_She_ laughs.]
CAMILLE. That's unkind of you! And you show your little teeth
like a cat.
LUCILE [laughing]. No, no, you know I love you; I love you just
as you are. Don't be angry. I see your faults, I even look
for them, but I love them. I love your stammering, and I even
imitate you. [_They laugh._]
CAMILLE. Just see what one day has done to these people I What
can't we expect of them now! Oh, my Lucile, what wonderful
things we shall do together! Now it's started, the thunderbolt
is launched; what joy to see it strike here and there, and lay
low the tyrants--prejudice, injustice, laws! At last, we are
going to smash these maggots, who with their idiotic grins,
set themselves up against everything, prevent our thinking,
breathing, our very existence! We are going to clean house,
and burn the old rags. No more masters, no more shackles! How,
amusing it all is!
LUCILE. We will rule Paris now?
CAMILLE. We will: Reason will.
LUCILE. Hear their shouting. It makes me afraid.
CAMILLE. That is the result of my words.
LUCILE. Do you think they'll always listen to you?
CAMILLE. They listened to me before they knew me; what power I
must have now that they adore me! They are good people, and
when they are at last rid of all the evils that are bearing down
on them, everything will be easy and joyous. Oh, Lucile, I am
too happy! It's all come so suddenly. No, I'm not _too_ happy;
that is impossible. But I feel a little intoxicated, after being
so miserable.
LUCILE. Poor Camille! Were you so very unhappy?
CAMILLE. Yes, I have had a hard time, and for so long--six
years. Without money, without friends, without even hope. I
was disowned by my own people, I had to engage in the lowest
professions, and turn my hand to anything to earn a few
sous--and often not getting them after all. More than once I
went to bed without supper. But I don't want to tell you that.
Later on--It was wrong of me.
LUCILE. Is it possible? Heavens, why didn't you come to--?
CAMILLE. You would, I know, have divided your bread with me!
That wasn't the worst, Lucile. I could do without supper, but to
doubt myself, to see no future before me! And then, the sight of
you, with your dear yellow curls and brown eyes, in the window
opposite mine. How I followed you, at a distance, through the
Luxembourg Gardens, admiring your grace, your movements! Ah,
my dear little Lucile, you often made me forget my misery, and
sometimes made it seem heavier. You were so far from me! How
could I hope that some day--? But that some day is here--now! It
can't escape me! I have you. I kiss your hands! For they have
brought me all the happiness in the world! The world that is
freed through me! How happy I am! [_They kiss, and for a moment
say nothing_.]
CAMILLE. You're crying?
LUCILE [_smiling'_]. So are you. [_The lights in the windows are
extinguished_.] The lights are out; see the dawn! [_The Crowd is
heard outside._]
CAMILLE [_after a moment's pause_]. Do you remember that old
English story we read together? About the two children in Verona
who were in love in that town?
LUCILE [_nodding_]. Why do you ask?
CAMILLE. I don't know. Who knows what the future holds in store
for us?
LUCILE [_putting her hand over his mouth_], Camille!
CAMILLE. Poor Lucile, do you think you would be strong enough,
if ill-fortune--?
LUCILE. Who knows? I might if it were necessary. But I'm afraid
for you; you will suffer terribly.
CAMILLE [_nervously_]. You say that as if you really thought it
might happen?
LUCILE [_smiling_]. You are weaker than I, my hero.
CAMILLE [_smiling_]. Perhaps. I need love. I can't live alone.
LUCILE. I'll never leave you.
CAMILLE. Never! No matter what happens, let us have everything
in common, and let nothing separate us, nothing keep us--[_A
moment of silence._ LUCILE _is motionless, her head resting on
his shoulder._] Are you asleep?
LUCILE [_raising her head_]. No. [_With a sigh._] God spare us
those trials!
CAMILLE [_with a skeptical smile_]. God?
LUCILE [_her cheek against the window, and one arm about_
CAMILLE'S _neck_]. Don't you believe in God?
CAMILLE. Not yet.
LUCILE. What do you mean?
CAMILLE. We are creating Him now. Tomorrow, if I can believe
in what my heart tells me, there will be a God: Man. [LUCILE
_closes her eyes and sleeps._ CAMILLE _says quietly_].
Lucile!--She's asleep.
ROBESPIERRE [_coming across the street and catching sight of_
CAMILLE]. You're still here?
CAMILLE. Sh!
ROBESPIERRE. You forget your duty. [CAMILLE _points to_
LUCILE.--ROBESPIERRE _lowers his voice and looks at_ LUCILE.]
Poor child! [_He stands still a moment, looking at the pair. The
sound of nearby drums awakens_ LUCILE. _She catches sight of_
ROBESPIERRE _and quickly jumps up._]
LUCILE. Oh!
CAMILLE. What's the matter, Lucile? He is our friend Maximilien.
ROBESPIERRE [_bows to_ LUCILE]. Didn't you recognize me?
LUCILE [_still trembling_]. You frightened me!
ROBESPIERRE. I beg your pardon.
CAMILLE. You're trembling.
LUCILE. I'm cold. Good-by, Camille. I'm so tired. I must go to
sleep. [CAMILLE _smiles at her and blows a kiss._ ROBESPIERRE
_bows. She disappears, after bowing to the men. The dawn has
come, and the shy behind the Bastille is richly colored. In
the midst of the far-off shouting are heard the first stray
fusillades_]
ROBESPIERRE [_turning toward the noise_]. Come, now. No more
love today. [_He goes out._]
CAMILLE [_descending from the barricade_]. No more love? What
then? Is it not love that now arouses this city, swelling every
breast, and sacrificing the vast harvest of humanity? Oh, my
love, you are not narrow and selfish, you bind me to these men
with stronger bonds. You are everything, you embrace the whole
world. It is not Lucile alone I love, but the universe. Through
your dear eyes, I love all who love, who suffer, who are happy,
who live, and who die. I love! I feel the sacred flame within
me! It colors the eastern sky above the Bastille. The last
shadows are gone, and this will go, too, this nightmare-shadow!
[_The Bastille, monstrous and black, stands forth against the
bright red shy. The voice of the cannon suddenly rends the
silence, and reverberates above the confusion of the people in
the distance, the fusillade, the bells, and the roll of the
drums._ CAMILLE _smiles, and faces the Bastille, putting his
finger to his nose._] The wolf howls, ha! Growl, show your
teeth! You are doomed! Since the King likes hunting, let us hunt
the King!