ACT II
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.
