Host. You need fear naught more now; now you can shout it to all the world. I could have told you an hour past that sue was the Duke's mistress. By God, I was nigh telling you—is't not true, you, Shrieking Pumice-stone?—did we not know it?
Henri. Who has seen her? Where has she been seen?
Host. What matters that to you now? The man's mad ... you have killed him; of a truth you cannot do more.
François. In heaven's name, is't really true or not?
Host. Ay, it is true.
Grasset. Henri, from henceforth you must be my friend. Vive la Liberté!—Vive la Liberté!
François. Henri, speak, man!
Henri. She was his mistress? She was the mistress of the Duke? I knew it not ... he lives ... he lives ... (Tremendous sensation.)
Séverine (to the others). Well, where's the truth now?
Albin. My God!