MARAT [_looking at her_]. Holy virtue of childhood, pure spark of goodness, what a comfort you are! How dark would the world be without children's eyes! [_He goes gravely toward the child, takes her hand, which hangs limp, and kisses her._] A WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE [_arriving on the scene_]. Julie! Are you here! What are you doing with all these people? DESMOULINS. She was addressing the crowd. [_Laughter._] THE MOTHER. And she so frightened! What's got into her? [_She goes to_ JULIE, _but the moment she touches her, the little one runs away without a word, in childish rage._] THE CROWD [_laughing and applauding_]. Run away, little one! [_Loud laughter is heard at the other end of the Garden_.]--Come here! Come along!--What is it? They are ducking a countess! LA CONTAT. Ducking a countess? THE CROWD. She insulted the people! They're ducking her in the fountain! LA CONTAT [_on_ DESMOULINS' _arm, laughing_]. Let's run! How amusing! DESMOULINS. The most amusing performance in Europe! LA CONTAT. Insolent! What about the Comédie? [_They go out laughing. The Crowd surges out._ MARAT _and_ HULIN _are down-stage alone;_ MARAT _stands, while_ HULIN _sits at a cafe table. The back of the stage is crowded; some are standing on chairs, watching to see what is happening in the Garden. People walk about under the galleries beyond_ MARAT _and_ HULIN.] MARAT [_pointing toward the Crowd_]. Actors! They are not seeking liberty; they prefer plays! Today, when their very lives are in danger, they think of nothing but performing for each other. I want nothing to do with such people! Their insurrections are nothing but absurd antics. I don't want to see any more of them. Oh, to live shut up in a cave, hear nothing of the noise outside, to be free from the vileness of the world! [_He sits down, his head between his hands._] HULIN [_tranquilly smoking, with a look of irony, says to_ MARAT]. Come, Monsieur Marat, you mustn't be discouraged. It's not worth it. They are only big children playing. You know them as well as I do: they don't mean anything by that. Why take it so tragically? MARAT [_raising his head, says with determination_]. Who are you? HULIN. I come from your country--Neuchâtel in Switzerland. Don't you remember me? I know you very well. I saw you when you were a child--at Boudry. MARAT. So you are Hulin, Augustin Hulin? HULIN. Right! MARAT. What are you doing here? You were a clock-maker in Geneva. HULIN. I led a quiet life there. But I was counting without my brother, who began to speculate. He became imbroiled in some underhanded scheme, signed certain papers--. Naturally, he took it into his head to die, and left his wife and a child of three for me to take care of. I sold my shop to pay his debts, and came to Paris, where I was taken into the service of the Marquis de Vintimille. MARAT. Then I'm not surprised at your cowardly words. You are a servant. HULIN. What if I am? MARAT. Are you not ashamed to serve another man?