The people are without labor, and we must create it, and if salted meat costs them a little more, we shall, at least, have the consciousness that we have sacrificed our interests to those of the masses, as every good Alderman ought to do.

[Thunders of applause.] _A Voice._ I hear much said of the poor people; but, under the pretext of giving them labor, you begin by taking away from them that which is worth more than labor itself--wood, butter, and soup.
_Pierre, Paul and Jean._ Vote, vote.

Away with your theorists and generalizers! Let us vote.

[The three motions are carried.] THIRD TABLEAU.
_Twenty Years After._ _Son._ Father, decide; we must leave Paris.

Work is slack, and everything is dear.
_Father._ My son, you do not know how hard it is to leave the place where we were born.
_Son._ The worst of all things is to die there of misery.
_Father._ Go, my son, and seek a more hospitable country.