[_The_ DUKE _listens with bowed head_. GOUROC _goes to window_.


DUKE.

[_To_ GOUROC, _as drums draw near_.]

Is it the patrol?


GOUROC.

[_Solemnly_.]

No. Tis the guard of the death-cart, with to-day's load for the
guillotine.


DIANE.

[_Hiding her face_.]

This constant agitation is torture.


GOUROC.

You can easily escape it, Mademoiselle. Accept the refuge I offer you.