ACT III.
SCENE I.
Fiorilla’s house.—Enter Fiorilla and Leonardo.
Fiorilla.
The letter was delivered?
Leonardo.
’Twas entrusted
To one who never failed me, and the messenger
Is even now returned.
Fiorilla.
Did he reveal
The whole to Foscarini?
Leonardo.
No—we judged
The youth should know naught of his lady’s falsehood.
’Twas vaguely urged, that matters of deep import
Required his presence here; that enemies
Were laboring ’gainst his peace. But, pardon me—
I know not how this artifice may prevent
The nuptials of proud Contarini!
Fiorilla.
Know you
That Foscarini loves the maid, and she
Returns his passion, bitterly detesting
His haughty rival! Let the youthful lover
Come at the latest hour—his presence crosses
These ill starred nuptials.
Leonardo.
And you, fairest lady—
Forgive me—is a false admirer worth
Such stratagem to regain?
Fiorilla.
Hear me, Leonardo.
You see me but the gay and fickle dame
Whose smiles are showered on all; to whom the hours,
Brilliant alike, seem but to bring their tribute
Of emulous sweets, even as the gilded flowers
Yield up their honey to the fluttering insect.
How well for those who bask in Pleasure’s smile,
She wears a mask!
Leonardo.
But your smile is the sunlight
That banishes all gloom where’er it shines.
Fiorilla.
Yet envious philosophers have said
The sun himself, that warms and gladdens all,
Is a cold, lifeless mass. No more of that.
His beams can scorch and wither—so can those
You’ve aptly likened to them, when condensed
In hatred’s burning glass.
Leonardo.
I cannot guess
Your meaning.
Fiorilla.
Contarini—you may deem
’Twas vanity—’twas pride—that bound me to him!
Folly! when all that Venice boasts of rank
And wealth were at my feet, why should I spurn
Such suppliance—turning to one who seemed
To mock my power?
Leonardo.
He never offered, then,
His solemn vows?
Fiorilla.
He did! by all that’s sacred!
And I, who feigned his passionate words to hear
As the wind’s idle breath, treasured them deep,
Deep in my soul, which they have filled with gall.
Aye! and its bitterness shall be distilled
In drops upon his heart! Stay, Leonardo,
You’ve not heard all. You shall not see me creep
Like a scorned slave, aside, while others fill
The place that should be mine. I’ll hurl him thence
Or ere he gains that height!
Leonardo.
Nay, lady—
Fiorilla.
Yes!
’Tis you must aid me, while I bring to light
His plottings. It will peril many a head
In Venice—but I care not, so he finds
The hand he spurned is armed with deadly power!
Leonardo.
If you have aught of import to disclose,
Madam, unto the council——
Fiorilla.
Aye—the council!
And they shall hear! Yet, tell me, is not he
One of that fearful number who preside
In secret o’er the state?
Leonardo.
’Tis rumored so—
But the inquisitors’ persons are unknown.
Fiorilla.
’Tis well. Forget my passion and my words.
Now to our business. Leonardo, seek
This youth, and speedily conduct him hither;
He cannot come too soon. I will await you. [Exeunt.