You will have to march against those you love, or else be killed with your friends.
Hoche [smiling]. Very well, then.
Hulin. You think it very well? The thunderbolt is above you; everything is ready to crumble. . . . Roll, thunder! Truth, burn the night!
Hulin. I am not afraid of the storm. Everything I have told you, comrade, doesn't make me any more afraid. I am not afraid for my own skin. But I don't see even the first rain-drop. If your eyes are better than mine, show me! And wherever there is a good blow needed, be assured I shall be ready. Lead me, show me the road; what must I do?
Hoche. There is no settled plan. Watch and see what happens. When the storm comes, hold fast and run with it. Meantime, let us proceed as usual—and sell our waistcoats. [The Crowd again inundates the stage. Cries and laughter are heard. An Urchin of four or five is carried on the shoulders of a huge Porter. La Contat, Desmoulins, and the rest follow them, laughing.]
The Urchin [screaming]. Down with the aristos, the aristocracks, the aristaustrians!
Hulin. Now what are they playing at? Ah, their favorite amusement: abusing the aristocrats.
The Porter. Attention, Voice of the People! What shall we condemn them to? Hey, there, Monsieur, don't you hear me, Leonidas? What'll we do to Artois?
The Urchin. The pillory!
The Porter. And Polignac?
