[_She draws the bolts. The door opens. Enter_ SÉRAPHINE _and_ NANON. _The former is dressed in complete carmagnole: short skirt, rolled-up sleeves, sash of tricolour, and a bonnet-rouge. Pistols at her belt._ NANON _is more soberly attired but wears the bonnet-rouge. The door closes behind them._ Séraphine! SÉRAPHINE Chérie! YVETTE Nanon! NANON Dear Yvette! YVETTE How gay you are! What of the Revolution? SÉRAPHINE It goes. NANON It goes well. SÉRAPHINE We have a new song! Faith! ‘Tis a greater song than _Ça Ira_! YVETTE (_sings_) _Aux armes, Citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!_ SÉRAPHINE That’s it! NANON (_looking about her_) So very triste it is in here! SÉRAPHINE So gay outside! All Nantes is dressed in red! There’s a procession, and then to-night We sit in the galleries to hear Lalain! [_Distant music._ Hark to the fife! _Formez vos bataillons!_— And your feet keep not time to the music! YVETTE But my heart, Séraphine, my heart keeps time. SÉRAPHINE Ho! Your heart is in barracks, says Céleste. YVETTE Céleste! NANON And Angélique. YVETTE Angélique! SÉRAPHINE Faith! Angélique is in feather now you’re gone! Cries _Vive la République!_ here in Nantes. Rides on the cannon and handles a pike; Thinks she’s in Paris and plays Théroigne, And high from the galleries applauds Lalain! NANON He thinks not of her; he thinks of Yvette! YVETTE I care not of whom he thinks! SÉRAPHINE On a fête day, In a car triumphal see her appear! Dressed like a goddess just down from the skies, All crowned with green oak leaves, borne shoulder high— YVETTE Angélique! SÉRAPHINE (_nodding_) Ah, you see you are not there! But between you and me, red does not become her! YVETTE I should think not!—little blonde! SÉRAPHINE