THE MOB Ha! ha! Aristocrat! A WOMAN It is the emigrée Clarice-Marie Miramand Blanchefôret! Are not her gold locks known in Brittany? ANOTHER She fled to England. A THIRD She returned. THE MARQUISE O death! (_To a woman._) Citoyenne, your cockade! I’ll wear it gladly, Ay, o’er my heart I’ll pin it— [_She takes the cockade from the woman and with trembling fingers pins it to her gown._ THE WOMAN Red cap as well— THE MARQUISE With pleasure, Citoyenne. [_She places the bonnet-rouge upon her head._ THE MOB Ha, ha! A MAN Now cry _Vive la République!_ THE MARQUISE _Vive la République!_ THE MAN _Mort aux tyrans!_ THE MARQUISE _Mort aux tyrans!_ THE MAN _À bas Les Aristocrats!_ [_Silence._ THE MOB Ah—h—h! THE MAN _Vive la Guillotine!_ [_Silence._ A WOMAN Take that! [_She strikes at_ THE MARQUISE. THE MOB Down! Down! [THE MARQUISE _breaks through the ring of men and women and runs to_ SÉRAPHINE. THE MARQUISE I know your face! You are a Morbec woman! Save me! Save! SÉRAPHINE Saint Servan! Saint Gildas! Saint Mériadek!— Ay, madame, you should have stayed in England! _Enter_ DE VARDES, _torn and bleeding_. DE VARDES De Buc taken and De Barbasan! Dieu! The day’s not old. I’ll see them ere its close. We’ll meet, I think, at Carrier’s judgment bar, Then the dark river,—and then peace at last— THE MARQUISE _À moi, Monsieur le Baron de Morbec!_ DE VARDES La belle Marquise! [_He forces his way to the side of_ THE MARQUISE. SÉRAPHINE (_from the church porch_) Saint Yves le Véridique!