have past, Robespierre will go to the scaffold, the Jacobins be
ruined, and the Republic crushed.--To this great end I am content to
suffer anything, even your contempt, if need be.

DIANE.

Yes, I despise all blows dealt in darkness.

GOUROC.

Even though those very blows could save your father's life?

DIANE.

[_Turning and staring at him_.]

Save my father's life?

GOUROC.

Yes; I hold it in my power to set your father free, and escape with
both of you to Vendee.--Say but the word and it is done.

DIANE.

Tell me the word that I may speak it quickly.

GOUROC.

You know the past.--My one wild dream was to win you as my wife.
Revolution came; I lost you in the chaos of the times; and when at
last I found you, a traitor had nearly caused your death.

DIANE.

[_In anguish_.]

No more, sir! No more!

GOUROC.

But I can save you yet.

DIANE.

Save my father! That is all I ask.

GOUROC.

To save his life I must imperil my own. I am willing to do this, but--

DIANE.

[_Scornfully_.]

You must have your price!

GOUROC.

Yes--that price, the right to save and guard you as my wife. One word
of hope, and I am your slave forever.

DIANE.

Such a word would be cruelty to you, and crime in me.

[_She starts to go_.

GOUROC.

[_Seizing_ DIANE'S _hand_.]

Hear me, I beg--beseech--

[_A bell tolls_.]

Nay--I command!--Listen!

A VOICE.

[_Calls slowly in the distance_.]

Hubert, Marquis de Ferrand,--Comte de Vigny,--Duc de Beaumont----

[DIANE _turns in horror_.

GOUROC.

Your father is called for trial! That means certain death.

DIANE.

[_Kneeling_.]

Save him!--I will pay the price with everything I have.

GOUROC

I may hope?

DIANE.

Yes! Take hope from my despair.

GOUROC.

Then you will be my wife?

DIANE.

When he and I are free.

GOUROC.

Your father shall be saved!--I go to perfect all my plans.

[_Kissing her hand_.]

From this moment I am yours--body, mind and soul!

[_Exit hurriedly_.

DIANE.

When he has saved my father--death shall deliver me.

[_Exit_.

POTIN _enters cautiously, with various things hidden under his
clothes, giving him a grotesque appearance_.

POTIN.

Now, O Fate, is your chance to protect a patriot! If I can only get
away,--I shall escape perjury in Court, and tongue-lashing from my
wife!--Now to run!--To run for Vendee! Better the awful thunder of
masculi