[Going.]
Within an hour, the trial comes on. Be at hand, or—
[Making a sign across his throat.]
There's nothing like this to quiet a traitor's tongue.
[Exit.
POTIN.
[Looking after him.]
To lie living, and be a coward—or to lie dead, and be a corpse; that's the riddle.—No! I'll be neither a coward nor a corpse. I'll run away!—run like a brave man, enlist in the army of Vendée, and so escape damnation, and my wife.
[Starts off.]
Liberty, lend thy wings that I may fly—