POTIN.
[Crosses, lifts pail, and looks into it.]
Ashes!—Heigho! Every fire has its ashes.
NANETTE.
Aye—and the fire that warms a man's home may burn his house down!—Mark you that, Citizen.
POTIN.
Oh, I see! You mean a wife, who should be a comfort, often proves a curse.
NANETTE.
I mean, Citizen Potin, that in days of revolution, husbands are easily suppressed.