Valsin [smiling]. You do not believe—
Eloise [proudly]. Eloise d'Anville is a known Girondist. The Gironde is the real power in France.
Valsin [mildly]. That party has fallen.
Eloise [with fire]. Not far! It will revive.
Valsin. Pardon, Citizeness, but you are behind the times, and they are very fast nowadays—the times. The Gironde is dead.
Eloise [ominously]. It may survive you, my friend. Take care!
Valsin [unimpressed]. The Gironde had a grand façade, and that was all. It was a party composed of amateurs and orators; and of course there were some noisy camp-followers and a few comic-opera vivandières, such as this d'Anville. In short, the Gironde looked enormous because it was hollow. It was like a pie that is all crust. We have tapped the crust—with a knife, Citizeness. There is nothing left.
Eloise [contemptuously]. You say so. Nevertheless, the Rolands—
Valsin [gravely]. Roland was found in a field yesterday; he had killed himself. His wife was guillotined the day after you left Paris. Every one of their political friends is proscribed.
Eloise [shaking as with bitter cold]. It is a lie! Not Eloise d'Anville!