Westermann. Confess, you are afraid of military glory! You want to minimize it!
Robespierre. Yes.
Westermann [with a sneer]. Lawyers might be jealous, eh?
Robespierre. It is an insult to reason, and a menace to freedom. What has made you so proud? You are only doing your duty. Do you risk your life? The heads of every one of us are the stakes in the desperate game we are playing against despotism. Do you deserve any more credit than we in risking your life? We are all devoted to liberty or to death. You, like us, are an instrument of the Revolution, the great knife that is to cleave a way through the enemy for the Republic. It is a terrible task, but it must be accepted bravely, and humbly. You have no more right to be proud of your cannon than we of our guillotine.
Westermann. You outrage the grandeur of war.
Robespierre. Nothing is grand but virtue. No matter where it resides—in soldiers, workingmen, legislators—the Republic honors it alone. But the criminals must tremble. Nothing protects them from its just wrath, neither their titles nor their swords.
Westermann. Are you threatening me?
Robespierre. I was speaking of no one in particular. On his head be it who recognizes himself!
Westermann. God in heaven! [He looks threateningly at Robespierre, quivering from head to foot. He turns to go, then swings round.] On your guard, Sylla! My head sits more solidly on my shoulders than Custine's. There are still men who do not fear
