HULIN. Is that a reason why I shouldn't inform on you if I like. VINTIMILLE. Certainly. You must pay for your honesty by sacrifice. What would you think of yourself, Hulin, if you betrayed me? Would you not lose forever that invaluable possession: your self-esteem? It's not so easy as you think to go against your conscience. As you say, you are an honest man. Good-by. [_He goes._] HULIN. He's making game of me. He knows me.--It's true, those villains will always have the better of us honest people, because they're used to giving orders, and we are not. Then why remain honest, if it's all a fraud? Because we can't do otherwise. Well, it's better so. I couldn't breathe if I were as morally rotten and nasty as they are! I know they'll get the better of us. The day is at hand. But it would have been wonderful to win. They're going to crush us! [_He shrugs his shoulders_.] And--after? [_In the distance is heard the joyous voice of_ HOCHE, _answered by the acclamations of the Crowd. Windows are thrown wide open, and people lean out to see._ DESMOULINS, ROBESPIERRE, _and their friends come 'forth from the cafe where they have been meeting_.] HOCHE [_enters laughing, and shows his comrades the fortifications_]. Look at this. What Vauban built it, eh? Fine fellows! I could kiss you all! What work they must have put into it! And why? Against whom? Your friends? The enemy will never come. Don't worry. THE PEOPLE. Long live the French Guards! [MARAT _runs to_ HOCHE, _and bars his way with outstretched arms_.] MARAT. Stop, soldier! Not another step. [_The Crowd, astonished, press around them to see._] DESMOULINS. What's the matter with him? Has he lost his head? HULIN. Yes, long ago! MARAT. Surrender your saber! Every one give up his arms! DESMOULINS. He'll cut himself. THE FRENCH GUARDS. What's that!--Give up my saber?--I'll give it to you in the belly! THE PEOPLE. Kill him! HOCHE. Silence! Let me explain. I know him.--Let me go, friend! MARAT [_standing on the tips of his toes to take_ HOCHE _by the collar_]. Give up your saber! HOCHE [_quietly freeing himself, and taking hold of_ MARAT, _who squirms_]. What are you going to do with it, son? MARAT. Keep you from thrusting it into the heart of Liberty. HOCHE. Do you suspect those who have come to shed their blood for the people? MARAT. Who guarantees your loyalty? Why should we have confidence in unknown soldiers? THE FRENCH GUARDS. Break his head, Hoche! [HOCHE _quiets them with a gesture, looks smilingly at_ MARAT, _and releases him_.] He is right. Why have confidence in us? He has never seen us at work. [MARAT, _with not a word to say, suddenly assumes an attitude of silent impassiveness_.] Good Lord, it is hard to let yourself be accused when you're risking death for those birds!