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?
