VINTIMILLE [_with a shrug_]. Well, I shall take his place to the end. [_To himself, with a touch of ironic bitterness._] I never thought I should one day have the honor of giving up the royalty of France with these four-century-old walls into the hands of the lawyers. A beautiful duty! To think I should come to this! Well, nothing matters; everything passes, and everything ends. Death settles all accounts. Now we'll give them a little comedy--with the grand manner at the last. [_Aloud._] Fall in! Form in line! [_The garrison falls into rank; the Pensioners on the right, the Swiss Guards, left._ DE FLUE _is standing, while_ VINTIMILLE _rises, using his cane to support himself._] Butt-ends of your muskets in the air! Messieurs, I think I ought to inform you that in spite of the precautions I have taken, there will be some surprises when the enemy makes its entrance. You know they are not a disciplined army. But if they show any lack of military manners, that is no excuse for our behaving likewise. And you, Swiss Guards, in the name of the King, I thank, you for your obedience. You deserve more credit than the others. [_He turns his back on the Pensioners and smiles a little._] As to you, we understand each other. [_The Pensioners murmur approval._] DE FLUE [_phlegmatically_]. War is war! [_A Pensioner whistles:_ "_Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de sa famille?_"] VINTIMILLE [_turning toward him, and, with a disdainful gesture_]. You need not trouble to show your glee! It's indecent, my friend. THE PENSIONER. Monseigneur, I couldn't help it. VINTIMILLE. Why, you are positively proud to be beaten! THE PENSIONER [_warmly_]. We are not beaten! They would never have taken the Bastille unless we had wished them to. [_His comrades murmur approval._] VINTIMILLE. Do you mean to say that it is we who have taken the Bastile?-- PENSIONER. There is some truth in it. VINTIMILLE. Well--! To your post! [_After a pause._] Open the gate. Lower the draw-bridge. [_Some of the men open the gate and slowly lower the draw-bridge. The People outside continue their shouting._] Here, then, comes the new King, ha! [_The draw-bridge is now down. A formidable clamor arises, as the human flood pours in through the opened gate. Men and women, armed with pikes, hatchets, and muskets, surge through. At their head is_ GONCHON, _who is pushed forward, flourishing his saber in the air._ HOCHE _and_ HULIN _make vain efforts to silence the mob. There are cries of death and victory._ VINTIMILLE _takes off his hat._] Messieurs, the rabble! PENSIONERS [_suddenly swept away by their enthusiasm, wave their hats_]. Long live Liberty! VINTIMILLE. Messieurs, messieurs, have you no sense of shame? PENSIONERS [_with waxing enthusiasm_]. Long live Liberty! [_They throw away their muskets and rush into the arms of the People._]