The Abbé
The wind blows cold in Nantes, and so I wear
This cloak! So long I’ve looked on fires of hell
I needs must have a hat to shade my eyes!—
But now I’ll cock it in the face of all—
Cold, wind, darkness, devils, and Republic!
Grégoire
I think the citizen has lost his head.
The Abbé
Ay, and my heart as well. Holà! what’s that?