DE LAUNEY. No one can be quite sure; His Majesty is never quite sure himself. His enemies one day are his friends the next. I have either no orders at all, or else they are contradictory. Some tell me to resist to the end; others tell me not to fire. Provost Flesselles confided to me that he is with me and that he is deceiving the people. He tells the people he is with them and is betraying me. Whom is he betraying? How can I be assured I am not displeasing the Court while I serve it, and know that it is not laying the blame on me? If it wishes to do something, has it not a thousand ways of doing so? Why does not Monsieur de Breteuil, with his Champ de Mars troops, attack these insurrectionists from the rear?
DE FLUE. Wonderful! What a time they would have!
VINTIMILLE [to DE LAUNEY]. My dear fellow, yours be the victory! You are always right. [He goes to a corner and sits in the shadow.]
BÉQUART [who brings him a chair]. Monseigneur, you are never quite your old sprightly self on days of battle.
VINTIMILLE. They weary me with their continual discussions. [Pointing to DE LAUNEY.] He never knows what he wants; he must always consult every one, and get every one into embarrassing predicaments. What am I doing with such a vacillating person? They've given me a nasty task. There's no honor or pleasure to be derived from these squabbles. It's the business of the police to put down the people!
BÉQUART. It's not very pleasant to have to fire on the poor devils.
VINTIMILLE. You're becoming sentimental! Well, it's the fashion of the day, I suppose. Listen to the skunks out there! Disgusting. What do they want?
BÉQUART. Bread.
VINTIMILLE. Do they imagine the Bastille is a bakery? There they go again! They are in earnest. They seem most anxious to live. I wonder what interest they have in life? Their only pleasures are sour wine and unwashed women!
BÉQUART. You know, Monseigneur, that no matter how little one has to live for, one always clings to life.