The President. But I tell you you are! I tell you that there is no more wicked man in the world than yourself! You are a poltroon!
[Murmurs.
The Prisoner. And you call the father of my innocent child a poltroon? It is an outrage!
[General assent.
The President. Your appeal to your innocent babe will avail you nothing. Your innocent babe would be better without such a father! (General Shuddering.) Yes, I mean what I say—you are a craven!
The Prisoner. This is too much! I am no craven! I love my country as a mother loves her son.
[General assent.
M. le Président. You insult France when you call yourself her son! You insult the Republic.
[Loud murmurs.
The Prisoner. It is not for you to judge! I know you, M’sieur le Président. Forty years ago you were in the service of the King!