Part 88 (1/2)

FIESCO. That thought was better than the soil which gave it birth.

These words are favorable; but do they bespeak actions of equal import?

MOOR. Yes--as the murmuring of the distant thunder foretells the approaching storm. The people lay their heads together--they collect in parties--break off their talk whenever a stranger pa.s.ses by. Throughout Genoa reigns a gloomy silence. This discontent hangs like a threatening tempest over the republic. Come, wind, then hail and lightning will burst forth.

FIESCO. Hus.h.!.+--hark! What is that confused noise?

MOOR (going to the window). It is the tumult of the crowd returning from the senate-house.

FIESCO. To-day is the election of a procurator. Order my carriage! It is impossible that the sitting should be over. I'll go thither. It is impossible it should be over if things went right. Bring me my sword and cloak--where is my golden chain?

MOOR. Sir, I have stolen and p.a.w.ned it.

FIESCO. That I am glad to hear.

MOOR. But, how! Are there no more sequins for me?

FIESCO. No. You forgot the cloak.

MOOR. Ah! I was wrong in pointing out the thief.

FIESCO. The tumult comes nearer. Hark! 'Tis not the sound of approbation. Quick! Unlock the gates; I guess the matter. Doria has been rash. The state balances upon a needle's point. There has a.s.suredly been some disturbance at the senate-house.

MOOR (at the window). What's here! They're coming down the street of Balbi--a crowd of many thousands--the halberds glitter--ah, swords too!

Halloo! Senators! They come this way.

FIESCO. Sedition is on foot. Hasten amongst them; mention my name; persuade them to come hither. (Exit Moon hastily.) What reason, laboring like a careful ant, with difficulty sc.r.a.pes together, the wind of accident collects in one short moment.

SCENE V.

FIESCO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO, and a.s.sERATO, rus.h.i.+ng in.

ZIBO. Count, impute it to our anger that we enter thus unannounced.

ZENTURIONE. I have been mortally affronted by the duke's nephew in the face of the whole senate.

a.s.sERATO. Doria has trampled on the golden book of which each n.o.ble Genoese is a leaf.

ZENTURIONE. Therefore come we hither. The whole n.o.bility are insulted in me; the whole n.o.bility must share my vengeance. To avenge my own honor I should not need a.s.sistance.

ZIBO. The whole n.o.bility are outraged in his person; the whole n.o.bility must rise and vent their rage in fire and flames.

a.s.sERATO. The rights of the nation are trodden under foot; the liberty of the republic has received a deadly blow.

FIESCO. You raise my expectation to the utmost.

ZIBO. He was the twenty-ninth among the electing senators, and had drawn forth a golden ball to vote for the procurator. Of the eight-and-twenty votes collected, fourteen were for me, and as many for Lomellino. His and Doria's were still wanting----

ZENTURIONE. Wanting! I gave my vote for Zibo. Doria--think of the wound inflicted on my honor--Doria----