Come, gentlemen, make peace. One thing is sure, Corneille is now the fashion: takes the place Of Garnier, just as in our day felt hats Have replaced velvet _mortiers_. MONTPESAT. For Corneille I am, and for felt hats! GASSÉ (_to Montpesat_). You are too rash! [_To Villac._] Garnier is very fine. I'm neutral; but Corneille has also his good points. VILLAC. Agreed! ROCHEBARON. Agreed! He is a witty fellow and I like him! BRICHANTEAU. He has no nobility! ROCHEBARON. A name so commonplace offends the ear. BOUCHAVANNES. A family of petty lawyers, who Have gnawed at ducats 'til they obtained sous. [_L'Angely enters, seats himself at a table alone, and in silence. He is dressed in black velvet with gold trimming._ VILLAC. Well, if the public like his rhapsodies The day of tragic-comedy is past. I swear to you the theater is doomed. It is because this Richelieu-- GASSÉ (_looking across at L'Angely_). Say, _lordship_, Or else speak lower. BRICHANTEAU. Hell take this eminence! Is't not enough to manage everything? To rule our soldiers, finances, and us, Without controlling our poor language too? BOUCHAVANNES. Down with this Richelieu, who flatters, kills: Man of the red hand and the scarlet robe! ROCHEBARON. Of what use is the King? BRICHANTEAU. In darkness, we-- That is the people--march: eyes on a torch. He is the torch: the King's the lantern which In its bright glass protects the flame from wind. BOUCHAVANNES. Oh, could our swords blow such a wind some day As to extinguish this devouring fire! ROCHEBARON. If every one had the same mind as I! BRICHANTEAU. We would unite-- [_To Bouchavannes._] What do you think, Viscount? BOUCHAVANNES. We'd give him one perfidious, useful blow! L'ANGELY (_rising, with gloomy tone_). Conspiring! Young men! Think of Marillac! [_All shudder: turn away, and are silent with terror; all fix their eyes on L'Angely, who silently resumes his seat._ VILLAC (_taking Montpesat aside_). My lord, when we were talking of Corneille, You spoke in tones that irritated me. In my turn I would like to say two words To you-- MONTPESAT. With sword-- VILLAC. Yes. MONTPESAT. Or with pistol? VILLAC. Both! MONTPESAT (_taking his arm_). Let's go and find some corner in the town. L'ANGELY (_rising_). A duel, sirs? Remember Boutteville. [_New consternation among the young men. Villac and Montpesat separate, keeping their eyes fixed on L'Angely._ ROCHEBARON. Who is this man in black who frightens us? L'ANGELY. I'm L'Angely. I'm jester to the King. BRICHANTEAU (_laughing_). Then it's no wonder that the King is sad. BOUCHAVANNES (_laughing_). Great fun he makes, this rabid cardinalist! L'ANGELY (_standing_).