Silence! Better death to her than the pollution of another word from you!

PAUL.

But my God!—You do not know.—She is—

DIANE.

[Starting up wildly.]

Stop!—I forbid you to say more!

CURTAIN.

ACT II.

SCENE. Interior of the Prison of the Republic. A room with cells.—Entrance to outer corridor. Table with chairs near it.—As curtain rises, howls of a Mob are heard outside.

POTIN.