partake his counsels. Hear, Scipio!
BOURGOGNINO. My soul devours thy words.
VERRINA. Hear! But answer nothing-nothing, young man! Observe me-not a word-Fiesco must die.
BOURGOGNINO (struck with astonishment). Die! Fiesco!
VERRINA. Die-I thank thee, God, 'tis out at last-Fiesco must die. My son-die by my hand. Now, go. There are deeds too high for human judgment. They appeal alone to heaven's tribunal. Such a one is this. Go! I neither ask thy blame nor approbation. I know my inward struggles, and that's enough. But hear! These thoughts might weary out thy mind even to madness. Hear! Didst thou observe yesterday with what pride he viewed his greatness reflected from our wondering countenances? The man whose smiles deceived all Italy, will he endure equals in Genoa? Go! 'Tis certain that Fiesco will overthrow the tyrant. 'Tis as certain he will become a tyrant still more dangerous.
[Exit hastily. BOURGOGNINO looks after him with speechless
surprise, then follows slowly.
SCENE II.-An apartment in FIESCO'S house. In the middle of the back scene a glass door, through which is seen a view of the sea and Genoa. Daybreak.
FIESCO at the window.
FIESCO. What do I see! The moon hath hid its face. The morn is rising fiery from the sea. Wild fancies have beset my sleep, and kept my soul convulsed by one idea. Let me inhale the pure, refreshing breeze. (He opens a window; the city and ocean appear red with the tint of morning. FIESCO walking up and down the room with energy.) I the greatest man in Genoa! And should not lesser souls bow down before the greater? But is not this to trample upon virtue? (Musing.) Virtue? The elevated mind is exposed to other than ordinary temptations-shall it then be governed by the ordinary rules of virtue? Is the armor which encases the pigmy's feeble frame suited to the giant? (The sun rises over Genoa.) This majestic city mine! (Spreading out his arms as if to embrace it.) To flame above it like the god of day! To rule over it with a monarch mind! To hold in subjection all the raging passions, all the insatiable desires in this fathomless ocean! 'Tis certain, though the cunning of the thief ennoble not the theft, yet doth the prize ennoble the thief. It is base to filch a purse-daring to embezzle a million,- but it is immeasurably great to steal a diadem. As guilt extends its sphere, the infamy decreaseth. (A pause, then with energy.) To obey! or to command! A fearful dizzying gulf-that absorbs whate'er is precious in the eyes of men. The trophies of the conqueror-the immortal works of science and of art-the voluptuous pleasures of the epicure-the whole wealth encompassed by the seas. To obey! or to command! To be, or not to be! The space between is as wide as from the lowest depths of hell to the throne of the Almighty. (In an elevated tone.) From that awful height to look down securely upon the impetuous whirlpool of mankind, where blind fortune holds capricious sway! To quaff at the fountainhead unlimited draughts from the rich cup of pleasure! To hold that armed giant law beneath my feet in leading-strings, and see it struggle with fruitless efforts against the sacred power of majesty! To tame the stubborn passions of the people, and curb them with a playful rein, as a skilful horseman guides the fiery steed! With a breath-one single breath-to quell the rising pride of vassals, whilst the prince, with the motion of his sceptre, can embody even his wildest dreams of fancy! Ah! What thoughts are these which transport the astounded mind beyond its boundaries! Prince! To be for one moment prince comprises the essence of a whole existence. 'Tis not the mere stage of life-but the part we play on it that gives the value. The murmurs which compose the thunder's roar might singly lull an infant to repose-but united their crash can shake the eternal vault of heaven. I am resolved. (Walking up and down majestically.)
SCENE III.
FIESCO; LEONORA, entering with a look of anxiety.
LEONORA. Pardon me, count. I fear I interrupt your morning rest.
FIESCO (steps back with astonishment). Indeed, madam, you do surprise me not a little.
LEONORA. That never happens to those who love.
FIESCO. Charming countess, you expose your beauty to the rude breath of morning.
LEONORA. I know not why I should preserve its small remains for grief to feed on.
FIESCO. Grief, my love? I thought that to be free from cares of state was happiness.
LEONORA. It may be so. Yet do I feel that my weak heart is breaking amidst this happiness. I come, sir, to trouble you with a trifling request, if you can spare a moment's time to hear me. These seven months past I have indulged the pleasing dream of being Countess of Lavagna. It now has passed away and left a painful weight upon my mind. Amid the pleasures of my innocent childhood I must seek relief to my disordered spirits. Permit me, therefore, to return to the arms of my beloved mother--
FIESCO (with astonishment). Countess!
LEONORA. My heart is a poor trembling thing which you should pity. Even the least remembrance of my visionary joy might wound my sickly fancy. I therefore restore the last memorials of your kindness to their rightful owner. (She lays some trinkets on the table.) This, too, that like a dagger struck my heart (presenting a letter). This, too (going to rush out of the door in tears), and I will retain nothing but the wound.
FIESCO (agitated, hastens after and detains her). Leonora! For God's sake, stay!
LEONORA (falls into his arms exhausted). To be your wife was more than I deserved. But she who was your wife deserved at least respect. How bitter is the tongue of calumny. How the wives and maidens of Genoa now look down upon me! 'See,' they say, 'how droops the haughty one whose vanity aspired to Fiesco!' Cruel punishment of my pride! I triumphed over my whole sex when Fiesco led me to the altar--
FIESCO. Really, Madonna! All this is most surprising--
LEONORA (aside). Ah! he changes color-now I revive.
FIESCO. Wait only two days, countess-then judge my conduct--
LEONORA. To be sacrificed! Let me not speak it in thy chaste presence, oh, thou virgin day! To be sacrificed to a shameless wanton! Look on me, my husband! Ah, surely those eyes that make all Genoa tremble, must hide themselves before a weeping woman--
FIESCO (extremely confused). No more, signora! No more--
LEONORA (with a melancholy look of reproach). To rend the heart of a poor helpless woman! Oh, it is so worthy of the manly sex. Into his arms I threw myself, and on his strength confidingly reposed my feminine weakness. To him I trusted the heaven of my hopes. The generous man bestowed it on a--
FIESCO (interrupting her, with vehemence). No, my Leonora! No !
LEONORA. My Leonora! Heaven, I thank thee! These were the angelic sounds of love once more. I ought to hate thee, faithless man! And yet I fondly grasp the shadow of thy tenderness. Hate! said I? Hate Fiesco? Oh, believe it not! Thy perfidy may bid me die, but cannot bid me hate thee. I did not know my heart--(The MOOR is heard approaching.)
FIESCO. Leonora! grant me one trifling favor.
LEONORA. Everything, Fiesco-but indifference.
FIESCO. Well, well (significantly). Till Genoa be two days older, inquire not! condemn me not! (Leads her politely to another apartment.)
SCENE IV.
FIESCO; the MOOR, entering hastily.
FIESCO. Whence come you thus out of breath?
MOOR. Quick, my lord!
FIESCO. Has anything run into the net?
MOOR. Read this letter. Am I really here? Methinks Genoa is become shorter by twelve streets, or else my legs have grown that much longer! You change color? Yes, yes-they play at cards for heads, and yours is the chief stake. How do you like it?
