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
