HÉRAULT. Did you never think how awful it would be?
LUCILE. How horrible! Fine things to talk about!
HÉRAULT. You are a good, dear, lovable child, and yet you are cruel—like a child.
CAMILLE [excitedly]. You really think me cruel?
LUCILE. See, he's crying this moment!
CAMILLE [deeply stirred]. True, he suffered. When I think of his agony, his terror, waiting for the end—It must have been atrocious! No matter how vile he was, he suffered like an honest man—perhaps even more. Poor Hebert!
LUCILE [her arms about CAMILLE'S neck]. My poor Bouli-Boula, you're not going to feel so sorry for a villain who wanted to send you to the guillotine?
CAMILLE [angrily]. Yes. Now, why are you attacking me this way? Si quis atra dente me petiverit, inultus ut flebo puer!
LUCILE [to HÉRAULT]. And you dare say my Camille is cruel!
HÉRAULT. I do, of course. Dear fellow! He is perhaps the cruellest of us all.