TALLIEN'S HOUSE.
_Tallien with a letter in his hand._
In prison!--In his power!--to die to-morrow!
My body trembles and my senses reel.
This is a just and fearful retribution--
Would it were on my head alone! Oh Heaven,
Spare but this angel woman and her father,
And let me die--or might my life be pardon'd,
The criminal excess to which these times
Have hurried my rash hand and wilful heart,
I will atone to outrag'd human nature,
To her and to my country. Wretched France!
Once the fair home of music and of mirth,
So torn, so harrassed by these factions now,
That even the wise and good of other lands
Cannot believe a patriot breathes in this!
And she complains that I am grown a craven!
My acts of late may justify the thought,
But let to-morrow show how much I fear him.
(_A Servant enters_.)
_Servant._--The Minister of Police----
_Tallien._--Attend him hither--
Fouché--perhaps to sound me; let him try--
I yet may baffle him, and one more fatal----
(_Fouché enters_.)
_Fouché._--So you are in the scales with Robespierre,
And which do you expect will kick the beam?
_Tallien._--Why should you think that I will stake my power,
Friends, interest, and life, in useless efforts
To thwart the destined ruler of the land?
_Fouché._--Yourself have told me so. I did but mean
That he had risk'd his power and party strength
Against your life. You mean to strike at his.
Your faltering voice and startled looks betray
The secret of your heart, though sooth to say,
I knew it all before.
_Tallien._--You see too far,
And are for once wise over much, Monsieur;
I never sought to oppose your great colleague,
But would conciliate him if I might.
_Fouché._ (_sternly_.) And do you hope to throw dust in my eyes?
What means this note from Madame de Cabarus
Now in your bosom--sent to you this morning--
And this your answer? (_producing a billet_.) Have I fathom'd you?
The mystic writing on the palace wall
Scar'd not Belshazzar more than this does you.
(_Tallien goes to the door_.)
Nay, never call your men or make those signals,
I have foreseen the worst that you can do.
_Tallien._--Chief of Police, while you are in this house
Your life is in my hands--when you are gone,
Mine is in yours. Now tell me why you came?
_Fouché._--To show you that I know of your designs.
_Tallien._--And is that all?
_Fouché._--Not quite. To offer service-- {306}
A politician should not start as you do
At every word.
_Tallien._--Ah--can I--dare I trust you?
_Fouché._--I do not ask created man to trust
Honor or oath of him whose name is Fouché.
I know mankind, and study my own interest--
Interest, Tallien--that mainstring of all motion--
Chain of all strength--pole star of all attraction
For human hearts to turn to. Let me see
My interest in supporting you, and I
Can aid and guard you through the coming peril.
_Tallien._--Name your terms.
_Fouché._--My present post and what
Beside is mentioned in this schedule.
(_giving a paper_.)
_Tallien_.--Your _price_ is high, but I am pledged to pay it.
(_giving his hand_.)
_Fouché._--Thou knowest I never was over scrupulous,
But he whom I was link'd with, Robespierre,
Can stand no longer. Earth is weary of him.
The small majority in the Convention
He calculates upon to be his plea
For wreaking summary vengeance on the heads
Of all who, like yourself, are not prepared
To grant him supreme power or dip their hands
In blood for any, every, or no profit.
A ravenous beast were better in the chair.
Henriot and the civic force here, stand
Prompt to obey him. Were we only sure
To raise the citizens, these dogs were nothing--
But, sink or swim, to-morrow is the day
Must ruin him or us. Do you impeach him,
And paint his crimes exactly as they are;
Have a decree of arrest, and I and mine
Will see he quits not the Convention Hall
But in the custody of friends of ours.
'Tis true I bargain'd to assist the fiend
The better to deceive him. Mark, Tallien,
A presage of his fall--not only I
Abandon him, but I can bring Barrère
And all his tribe to give their votes against him.
Give me _carte blanche_ to pay them for their voices.
_Tallien._--But think you I can move them to arrest him?
_Fouché._--That is a _chance_ unknown even to myself,
There are so many waiters on the wind,
Straws to be blown wherever it may list
That surety of success we cannot have,
But certain ruin if we pass to-morrow.
_Tallien._--Is't true she aim'd a weapon at his life?
_Fouché._--A lie of his invention. I have seen
The weapon he pretended to have snatch'd
From her fair hands, and know it for his own.
Though I seem foul compar'd to better men,
I claim to appear an angel match'd with him.