Then you will be my wife?

DIANE.

When he and I are free.

GOUROC.

Your father shall be saved!—­I go to perfect all my plans.

[Kissing her hand.]

From this moment I am yours—­body, mind and soul!

[Exit hurriedly.

DIANE.

When he has saved my father—­death shall deliver me.

[Exit.

POTIN enters cautiously, with various things hidden under his clothes, giving him a grotesque appearance.

POTIN.

Now, O Fate, is your chance to protect a patriot!  If I can only get away,—­I shall escape perjury in Court, and tongue-lashing from my wife!—­Now to run!—­To run for Vendee!  Better the awful thunder of masculine war than the piercing tenderness of a woman’s tongue!

[Starting to run of, he begins to sing—­to the tune of the Marseillaise chorus:]

To leave—­to leave my wife!—­

NANETTE.

[Rushing in and stopping him.]

Hold, Citizen Potin!

POTIN.

[Wilting.]

Oh, Republic, I am lost!

NANETTE.

Dodolphe—­you’re up to mischief!  Speak out—­what’s up?

POTIN.

Patience, gentle lamb!

NANETTE.

Don’t lamb me, sir!

[Twisting him round.]

What’s this mean?

[Tapping him.]

Porpoise!

[Pulling breeches from under his coat.]

Culottes!

[Pulling cap from his breast.]

Ye gods, what’s this?

[Pulling hose from his pockets.]

By heaven!  A woman’s hose!

[Shaking hose in his face.]

What does this mean?

POTIN.

Nothing, precious love!  This is my uniform;—­I have recruited for
Vendee.

NANETTE.

You—­a soldier?

POTIN.

[Posing.]

Yes:  The safety of France demands it.  I go to preserve the Republic!  France beckons—­while Victory extends her arms, panting to embrace my noble form!

NANETTE.

Embrace ye?

[Putting his head under her arm.]

Let Victory try it if she dare!

TURNKEY.