HÉRAULT. My friends, I do not approve of your plans, but if you have made up your minds, you must, of course, have every chance in your favor. If we intend to start warfare, Desmoulins' pen--forgive me, Camille!--is not enough. The people do not read. The success of the _Vieux Cordelier_ misleads you; it does not reach the people; it has quite another public. You know very well, Camille: you complained that one number was sold at twenty sous. Aristocrats like us buy it. The people know only what the club orators tell them, and they are not on your side. You may write down to the people and try to use expressions you have heard in the markets; you will never be one of the people. There is only one way to influence them: have Danton talk to them. His thunder alone can stir that vast chaos. Danton has only to shake his mane, and the forum is in his power. But Danton does nothing; he's asleep--away from Paris. He doesn't address the Convention. No one knows what has become of him. Who has seen him lately? Where is he? What is he doing? [_Enter_ DANTON _and_ WESTERMANN.] DANTON. Danton swims in debauchery. Danton dallies with the women. Danton's rest is like Hercules'! [DESMOULINS _runs to_ DANTON _and shakes hands with him, laughing._ WESTERMANN _stands aside_, _preoccupied_.] CAMILLE. Hercules still keeps his club, so long as there are monsters to be killed. DANTON. Don't speak of killing. It's too horrible. France reeks with blood; the smell of dead flesh befouls the air. I just crossed the Seine; the sun was setting, and the river was red. It seemed to flow in waves of blood. If our rivers are so foul, where shall we wash our hands? There are enough dead! Let us build up the Republic. Let the harvests and men grow once more and become a new _Patrie._ Let us love one another and cultivate our fields. CAMILLE. May some god give us the chance, Danton! We are counting on you. DANTON. What is it, my children? PHILIPPEAUX. We need your help to fight. DANTON. How can I help you? Must I always do everything? You are all alike. Here is Westermann; he is a man; he has fought; he has saved the _Patrie_ two or three times; and before he sits down to supper, he cuts a man's throat as an appetizer. I must aid him, too! Do you want me to ride a horse and carry a saber, besides? WESTERMANN. When it comes to fighting, I yield to no one. Take me out to the battle-field; show me a company to rout, and see how I acquit myself. But to have to speak, answer the mouthing members of the Convention, frustrate the underhanded schemes of that Committee of toads that are always plotting my ruin,--I can't do it. I feel lost in that city; the whole pack snap at me; I can't move; I must stand it and not even try to defend myself. Are you going to let me be devoured alive, and not help me? By God, I once fought for you; we have the same enemies. My cause is your cause--yours, Danton--yours, Philippeaux, as you very well know!