Surrender!
[PAUL _does not move_.]
General, your sword, or we fire!
PAUL.
[_Rising coolly_.]
Fire!
POTIN.
We do not want to kill you.
[_Advancing with extended hand_.]
We'd rather have your sword.
PAUL.
[_Recognizing_ POTIN, _speaks aside_.]
Potin!--The wretch!--He may recognize me before the hour is up!
[_He draws his sword and extends it backward_.
POTIN.
[_Taking the sword_.]
General, you are our prisoner.
[_To_ SOLDIERS.]
Comrades, to us--a squad of the battalion of the Bonnet Rouge--is due
the glory of taking the leader of these Royalist Brigands!--Hurrah for
our Battalion!
[_All cheer_.
VOICES.
[_Outside_.]
Long live the Republic!
POTIN.
[_Looking off_]
Bah! Here come the rabble--a crowd of anarchists!
GOUJON.
Who never share the fighting.
POTIN.
But claim all the glory fighting brings.
GOUJON.
Curse these civil shouters!
SOLDIERS _all groan. Cries of "Carrac! Carrac!" with cheers heard
outside_.
POTIN.
Here they come, led on by Scarlotte--
GOUJON.
Scarlotte! A woman in form--a fury in nature!
POTIN.
Like my wife.
[_Cheers outside_.]
Good heavens! Worse and worse! Yonder comes Carrac--the king of
curs!--Damme! The devil himself is a saint compared with him.
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