THE PEOPLE _and the_ SOLDIERS [_in an ecstasy of fraternal enthusiasm, laughing, crying, embracing one another_]. Yes, for you, for you! Our brothers the people! Our soldier brothers!--For all who suffer! For the oppressed!--For all mankind! [_The enthusiasm waxes into a pandemonium, and is increased with cries and cheers from the windows of the neighboring houses_.] HULIN. Hurrah! Hoche! At last, some one who dispels the sadness! HOCHE [_amiably, to the people who acclaim him from the windows_]. What are you doing there at home? Why shut yourselves in on a beautiful July night like this? Man is sad when he is alone. It is the fetid air of the cellar that breeds suspicion and doubt. Come forth from your houses; you've been shut up too long. You must live now in the open streets. Come out and watch the sun rise. The enslaved city now breathes freely; the cool winds from the prairies are blowing over the houses and the streets that are blocked by our armies; they bring us the salute from the friendly countryside. The grain is ripe, come and reap it. LA CONTAT. What a splendid fellow! He breathes joy and happiness. [_She goes toward_ HOCHE.] HOCHE. Ah, there you are, you flower-girl of Liberty! Madame Royalist, who stripped the trees of the Palais-Royal and threw cockades to the people. I knew you would come. Do you at last believe in our cause? LA CONTAT. I believe in anything you say. With _a face like yours_--[_she points, to his face_] I could always be converted. [_The People laugh._] HOCHE [_laughing_]. I'm not surprised. I always knew I had an apostolic temperament. Well, take your place, then. We won't refuse any one. Take a pike: a girl like you ought to defend herself. LA CONTAT. Oh, oh, don't enroll me so quickly! I look on, I applaud, and I find the piece interesting, but I'm not playing this evening. HOCHE. So you think it's merely interesting? You think it is play? Look at this poor devil, his bones sticking out of his blouse, and this woman nursing her child. Is it amusing to see them starve? You think it a good comedy to see these people, without bread, without a future, thinking only of humanity, and of eternal justice? Don't you think it's at least as serious as a Corneille tragedy? LA CONTAT. That, too, is only a play. HOCHE. Nothing is play. Everything is serious. Cinna and Nicomède exist, just as I do. LA CONTAT. You are strange! Actors and authors construct make-believe things, which you accept as gospel! HOCHE. You're mistaken, it isn't make-believe for you: you don't know yourself. LA CONTAT. You make me laugh! Do _you_ know me? HOCHE. I've seen you on the stage. LA CONTAT. And do you imagine I _feel_ what I act? HOCHE. You can't deny it: your instinct makes you feel. A power is never an illusion; it carries you along. I know better than you what it does to you. LA CONTAT. What? HOCHE. What is strong goes with what is strong. You will be one of us. LA CONTAT. I don't think so.