[The noise in the street increases. The tocsin rings.
The sky begins to darken before an approaching
storm.
Count Louis
Ring on!
Ye bells! ring on to the deaf sky! O France,
Of old thou wast a pleasant land and free,
In palace and in field a courteous place!
Now thou art desolate! Come, Austria, come!
Come, D’Artois, come, Brunswick, and come, Provence!