Tête-d'or: While there is something not beneath my sway I am not free.
(Murmur.
I say to you, kill me while there still is time! You are a cityful and I am all alone. Kill me, then!
For if you do not kill me I will put my hand upon you with power.
The Tribune of the People: Tête-d'or....
Tête-d'or: Let me speak in my turn!
Listen, noise! Listen, nothing!
And listen, flocks dispersed in your folds and pastures, and you
Dogs that believe yourselves the shepherd!
(He shakes his head violently. His helmet drops off and his long yellow hair falls down on to his shoulders. He becomes very red. All are silent and stare at him open-mouthed.