VINTIMILLE [_having descended again into the court_]. Too late! Pretty piece of work they've done! Listen to those cries! They aimed well. They think we fired from a secret hiding-place. [_The People howl with rage._ VINTIMILLE _turns and sees_ LA CONTAT, _who has come up behind him and looks at him with hatred in her eyes._] What's the trouble, Contat? [_She does not answer, but suddenly seizes_ VINTIMILLE'S _sword, snatches it from the scabbard, and attempts to stab him. The Pensioners seize her hands and hold her in spite of her heroic struggle to free herself._] So you wanted to kill me! [LA CONTAT _nods. She keeps her eyes fixed on him, and to the end of scene cannot utter a word, but trembles convulsively, panting like a beast._] You aren't sane. What's happened? I have done nothing to you. You know they acted contrary to orders. You yourself saw--Don't you recognize me, Contat? [_She nods_.] Do you really hate me? [_She nods as before_.] Speak to me? Won't you say a word? [_He attempts to touch her, but she pulls back, and struggles again with the soldiers, who hold her hands. She then falls back in a sort of epileptic fit, screaming and moaning. They carry her off. Her cries are still heard. Outside, the People are screaming_.] DE LAUNEY [_in consternation_]. She's like a wild animal. You would not recognize her. VINTIMILLE. She is not herself. Something strange and new is in her: the poison of that mob. It's too disgusting. I can't understand it. It's like a wind of bestiality blown from the monstrous part of humanity. [_The Swiss Guards descend from the towers with_ DE FLUE.] DE LAUNEY [_very much excited, goes to meet_ DE FLUE]. What have you done? What have you done? DE FLUE [_fuming_]. By God, I did what you told me to do! You ordered me to smash them, and I have smashed them. It seems you've changed your mind, and you want peace. What the devil do you want me to do? DE LAUNEY. We're lost now. DE FLUE. Lost? [_He shrugs his shoulders, and motions to his Guards to roll the cannon into position_.] BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS. What are you doing? THE SWISS GUARDS. Three volleys and the court will be empty. BÉQUART _and the_ PENSIONERS. You're not going to fire? THE SWISS GUARDS. Why not? BÉQUART. Into the mob? It would be nothing but massacre! THE SWISS GUARDS. What's that to us? BÉQUART. They are our relatives, Frenchmen like the rest of us. Put that cannon back, and don't dare fire. THE SWISS GUARDS. Get out of our way. Let us pass! [_They knock_ BÉQUART _out of the way._] THE PENSIONERS. Damned Germans! [_They cross bayonets_.] THE SWISS GUARDS. Knock them down! These battered scarecrows! They can't frighten us! BÉQUART. If you advance, I'll fire. [_He takes aim._ VINTIMILLE _and_ DE FLUE _stand between them._] DE FLUE. Down with your weapons! Down, by God! [_He beats them with his cane._] VINTIMILLE. Snarling dogs!