François. Of course—the village ... the Marquis de Montferrat has one of his finest hunts there.
Duke. Quite right; my brother is now at the castle with him, and he has written home about the things I am going to tell you. They have a mayor at Lelange who is very unpopular.
François. If you can tell me the name of one who is popular—
Duke. Just listen. The women of the village paraded in front of the mayor's house with a coffin.
Flipotte. What? Did they carry it? Carry a coffin? I wouldn't like to carry a coffin for anything in the world.
François. Hold your tongue. Nobody is asking you to carry a coffin. (To the Duke. ) Well?
Duke. And one or two of the women went into the mayor's house and explained to him that he must die, but they would do him the honor of burying him.
François. Well, have they killed him?
Duke. No; at least, my brother doesn't write anything about it.
François. Well then ... blusterers, talkers, clowns—that's what they are. Today they're roaring in Paris at the Bastille for a change, just as they've already done half a dozen times before ...