DE LAUNEY [_at his wits' end_]. They too are in revolt! They won't fight now! All is lost! [_He rushes toward the citadel and tries to enter._] VINTIMILLE [_stopping him_]. Where are you going? DE LAUNEY [_in desperation_]. To die! But they will die with us! VINTIMILLE. What are you going to do? DE LAUNEY. To the basements! Tons of powder! Set it off! THE PENSIONERS. Don't do that! DE LAUNEY. I will! VINTIMILLE. And blow up a large part of Paris? What heroism! It's too ridiculous. You really couldn't do that unless you believed in something! Ridiculous to do it for no reason at all. You mustn't upset the table just because you lose. DE LAUNEY. But what can I do? THE PENSIONERS. Surrender. DE LAUNEY. Never! The King confided the Bastille to me. I shall never surrender! [_He again tries to go, but the Pensioners seize him._] THE PENSIONERS [_to_ VINTIMILLE]. Monseigneur, you command us! VINTIMILLE [_coldly_]. Monsieur le Gouverneur is not well. Conduct him to his apartments, and take care of him. DE LAUNEY [_struggling_]. Traitors! Cowards! [_They carry him off._] VINTIMILLE [_aside_]. I was an idiot to get dragged into this! Nothing to do now. I must draw my next card with equanimity. [_Aloud._] Monsieur de Flue? DE FLUE. What is it? VINTIMILLE. Let us draw up our capitulation papers. DE FLUE. Papers? No, thanks, I'll have nothing to do with them. [_He turns his back._ VINTIMILLE _writes, leaning against a cannon._] A Swiss GUARD [_to_ DE FLUE]. They will massacre us. DE FLUE [_phlegmatically_]. Possibly. [_He sits down on a drum and lights his pipe._] THE SWISS GUARDS [_wiping their faces_]. Damned heat! Can't we have something to drink? [_A Guard gets a pitcher of water, which is passed around. The Guards are together at the left, with their officer; they are indifferent and bored. The Pensioners, opposite, stand about the cannon where_ VINTIMILLE _is writing. They watch with respect every movement he makes._ BÉQUART _holds the inkstand for him._ VINTIMILLE _reads in a low voice to_ BÉQUART _what he has written,_ BÉQUART _nodding approval. His comrades repeat the words among themselves, likewise nodding_.] THE PENSIONERS [_with mingled irony and approval_]. The lamb has captured the wolf. VINTIMILLE. I demand their promise that no one shall be harmed. BÉQUART. It costs us nothing to ask. VINTIMILLE [_smiling_]. It costs nothing to promise. [_He goes to_ DE FLUE.] Will you sign? DE FLUE [_as he signs_]. Fine way to fight!--Well, it's not my affair. VINTIMILLE. The difficulty is not in writing, but in making them read what we write. [_The Pensioners, approaching the gate, are greeted by musket-shots._] THE PENSIONERS. They're desperate. They won't let any one come near. BÉQUART. Give me the love-missive. THE PENSIONERS. You'll get killed, Béquart. BÉQUART. What do I care? I'm not capitulating in order to save myself. THE SWISS GUARDS. Why, then?