—It's true, those villains will always have the better of us honest people, because they're used to giving orders, and we are not. Then why remain honest, if it's all a fraud? Because we can't do otherwise. Well, it's better so. I couldn't breathe if I were as morally rotten and nasty as they are! I know they'll get the better of us. The day is at hand. But it would have been wonderful to win. They're going to crush us! [He shrugs his shoulders.] And—after? [In the distance is heard the joyous voice of Hoche, answered by the acclamations of the Crowd. Windows are thrown wide open, and people lean out to see. Desmoulins, Robespierre, and their friends come forth from the café where they have been meeting.]
Hoche [enters laughing, and shows his comrades the fortifications]. Look at this. What Vauban built it, eh? Fine fellows! I could kiss you all! What work they must have put into it! And why? Against whom? Your friends? The enemy will never come. Don't worry.
The People. Long live the French Guards! [Marat runs to Hoche, and bars his way with outstretched arms.]
Marat. Stop, soldier! Not another step. [The Crowd, astonished, press around them to see.]
Desmoulins. What's the matter with him? Has he lost his head?
Hulin. Yes, long ago!
Marat. Surrender your saber! Every one give up his arms!
Desmoulins. He'll cut himself.
