I have nothing to forgive, sir.--You did not betray my father, and if you dare to feel for such as we, then it is for the Republic to pardon your secret treachery. GOUROC. Always cruel, Mademoiselle. If you knew the truth, you could not wound me with your scorn. DIANE. [_Going_.] If my face offends you, I will go. GOUROC. Stay, and be just.--I am the slave of a great purpose. I am fast securing the ruin of the Republic. My affected zeal but masks the well-aimed blows I strike at the enemies of our order.--Before many weeks 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 Vendée.--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 Vendée! Better the awful thunder of masculine war than the piercing tenderness of a woman's tongue!