Under mine, Mademoiselle. Kauvar is a man of the people. To him such
words as loyalty, truth and honour are but empty puffs of air.


DIANE.

[_Proudly and passionately_.]

On whose lips is there meaning purer, or prouder, than on Paul
Kauvar's?


DUKE.

[_With haughty surprise_.]

Mademoiselle! When you speak so warmly, you forget the distance that
separates you from one of his rank.

[_Cries in the distance of_ "To the Guillotine!" _with the roll of
muffled drums_.


DIANE.

[_In solemn voice_.]

Nay, father, listen!--Do we need more to remind us of the nearness of
the protected to the protector?