Fouché.—Thou knowest I never was over scrupulous,
But he whom I was link'd with, Robespierre,
Can stand no longer. Earth is weary of him.
The small majority in the Convention
He calculates upon to be his plea
For wreaking summary vengeance on the heads
Of all who, like yourself, are not prepared
To grant him supreme power or dip their hands
In blood for any, every, or no profit.
A ravenous beast were better in the chair.
Henriot and the civic force here, stand
Prompt to obey him. Were we only sure
To raise the citizens, these dogs were nothing—
But, sink or swim, to-morrow is the day
Must ruin him or us. Do you impeach him,
And paint his crimes exactly as they are;
Have a decree of arrest, and I and mine
Will see he quits not the Convention Hall
But in the custody of friends of ours.
'Tis true I bargain'd to assist the fiend
The better to deceive him. Mark, Tallien,
A presage of his fall—not only I
Abandon him, but I can bring Barrère
And all his tribe to give their votes against him.
Give me carte blanche to pay them for their voices.
Tallien.—But think you I can move them to arrest him?
Fouché.—That is a chance unknown even to myself,
There are so many waiters on the wind,
Straws to be blown wherever it may list
That surety of success we cannot have,
But certain ruin if we pass to-morrow.
Tallien.—Is't true she aim'd a weapon at his life?
Fouché.—A lie of his invention. I have seen
The weapon he pretended to have snatch'd
From her fair hands, and know it for his own.
Though I seem foul compar'd to better men,
I claim to appear an angel match'd with him.
SCENE III.
ROBESPIERRE'S HOUSE.
Robespierre, Fouché, Henriot and others.
Henriot.—All things are ready now, six thousand men
And twenty cannon wait your word to-morrow.
Robes.—Henriot, I have a word to say to thee:
Thou hast one vice that suits not with a leader,
If that thou hopest to thrive in our attempt,
Taste not of wine till victory is ours.