"I have a patient sicker than this," said Goyot abruptly.
"Yes?"
"France," he said in a low voice.
Dangeau gave a deep sigh.
"You are right," he said.
"Of course, it's my trade. The patient is very ill. Too much blood-letting—you understand? There 's a gangrene which is eating away the flesh, poisoning the whole body. It must be cut out."
"Robespierre."
"Mon Dieu, Citizen, no names! Though, to be sure, that one 's in the air. A queer thing human nature. I knew him well years ago. You 'd have said he could n't hurt a fly; would turn pale at the mention of an execution; and now,—well, they say the appetite comes with eating, and life is a queer comedy."
"Comedy?" said Dangeau bitterly. "It's tragedy that fills the boards for most of us to-day."
"Ah! that depends on how you take it. Keep an eye on the ridiculous: foster it, play for it, and you have farce. Take things lightly, with a turn of wit and a playful way, and it is comedy. Tragedy demands less effort, I 'll admit, but for me—Vive la Comédie. We are discussing the ethics of the drama," he explained to Defarge, who poked his head in at this juncture.