FLAMBEAU.

The women stand on chairs to see your face, Each the fair symbol of Parisian grace, The guns in wreaths of flowers are dressed; Fierce Paris madly hails your sovereignship.

THE DUKE.

It were like kissing France upon the lip If Paris took me to her breast.

FLAMBEAU.

And you will hear the sufferer's complaint; Do you not feel your hand already faint Signing so many an amnesty?

THE DUKE.

The lies they've told me make the truth more dear, Oh, Freedom, Freedom, thou hast nought to fear From one so late from bonds set free!

What can I do to foster n.o.ble aims?

Treviso, Montebello, these are names Their sons inherit without fear, But other names are glorious, and since My Father would have made Corneille a Prince I'll make our Victor Hugo Peer!

I'll do--I'll do--I'll be the poor man's shield!

The heroic savour, rising from this field, Gives me a foretaste of my home; Wagram! 'Twas well I hither came to drain The stirrup-cup upon thy glorious plain!

Oh, my beloved France!--I come--!

Ah--!

FLAMBEAU.

What is it?

THE DUKE.

Nothing.

PROKESCH.

You are suffering!

THE DUKE.

Yes, to the marrow, but a gallop cures me.

Stars twinkle in the skies like golden rowels.

Here are the steeds, and we're to ride to France!

Embrace me, friend!

PROKESCH.

Emotion strangles me.

THE DUKE.

Brother!

PROKESCH.

My Lord!

THE DUKE.

Ah, hush!--The saddle-girth!-- Oh, it's delicious to escape on horseback Through such a night, in dancing-pumps!

PROKESCH.

[_To_ MARMONT, _pointing to the Conspirators._]

Those youths-- Why have they come?

MARMONT.

Why, that the world may know They also were conspirators!

THE DUKE.

A whip!

A CONSPIRATOR.

[_Introducing himself to the_ DUKE.]

The Viscount of Otranto--

THE DUKE.

Fouche's son!

FLAMBEAU.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

No matter now.

[_Arranging the horse._]

The stirrup long?

THE DUKE.

No; short.

SECOND CONSPIRATOR.

[_Bending low to the_ DUKE.]