ment of our defeat and degradation! The tomb of those who dare speak the truth!—Voltaire's prison!—Mirabeau's prison!—The prison of Liberty! Let's breathe!—Monster, you will fall! We'll pull down every stone of you! Down with the murderer! Coward!—Cut-throat! [They shake their fists at the Bastille, and shout until they are hoarse. Hulin, Robespierre, and Marat wildly wave their arms, and try to make themselves heard above the clamor. It is seen that they disapprove of what the People are doing, but their voices are drowned out.]
Hulin [at last making himself heard]. You're mad, mad, I tell you! We'll only break ourselves against that mountain!
Marat [his arms crossed]. I really marvel at you! Giving yourselves all this trouble to free a handful of aristocrats! Don't you know that there are only a few rich men in there? It's a luxurious prison, made especially for them. Let them mind their own affairs. That doesn't concern you.
Hoche. Every sort of injustice concerns us. Our Revolution is not a family matter. If we are not rich enough to have relations in the Bastille, we can at least adopt the rich people who are as unfortunate as we. Every man who suffers unjustly is a brother.
Marat. You are right.
The People. We want the Bastille!
Hulin. But, you fools, how are you going to take it? We have no weapons, and they have!
Hoche. Of course. Let us take the weapons, then. [Confusion at the back of the stage.]
