[_Exit_.
DIANE.
Father, why are you so moved?
DUKE.
But now, the mob seized some poor young girl they found without
protection in the street. I heard of this and fearing for your life, I
hurried here in awful agony of mind. Ah! Diane, this dread of peril to
you is worse than the worst of deaths to me.
DIANE.
Take heart, dear father! Does not Paul Kauvar, strong and true, stand
between us and danger!
DUKE.
Yes; but 'tis hard that I, a peer of France, should owe my daughter's
life to a peasant's son--a workman!
DIANE.
A, workman with a brush so potent that the noblest born do honour to
his art. What would have been our fate but for his devotion?
DUKE.
He's a plebeian--a Republican! The sense of my obligation to him--the
enemy of my race--is almost unendurable. Ah, but for you I should long
since have braved the scaffold and buried humiliation in the grave.
NANETTE.
[_Hurrying in_.]
Take care!--A committee from the Section is on its way upstairs.
DIANE.
[_In fear_.]
A committee coming here? How strange!
NANETTE.
No, not strange! Treachery is at every door. They are coming.
Quick!--To your work!
[_The_ DUKE _sits at the desk and pretends to write_.
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