François. Why do you mention your great-uncle?
Albin. Well, I do so because they actually held a meeting in our village—quite openly—and at the meeting they actually called my great-uncle, the Comte de Tremouille, a corn-usurer.
François. Is that all?
Albin. Nay, is that not enough!
François. We will go to the Palais-Royal tomorrow, and there you will have a chance of hearing the monstrous speeches the fellows make. But we let them speak—it is the best thing to do. They are good people at bottom; one must let them bawl themselves out in that way.
Albin (pointing to Scaevola, etc.). What suspicious characters those are! Just see how they look at one. (He feels for his sword.)
François (draws his hand away). Don't be ridiculous. (To the three others.) You need not begin yet; wait till there is more audience. (To Albin. ) They're the most respectable people in the world, actors are. I will warrant you have already sat at table with worse knaves.
Albin. But they were better attired. [Host brings wine.]
Enter Michette and Flipotte.
François. God be with you, children! Come and sit down by us.