Part 109 (1/2)
SOME OF THE CONSPIRATORS (talking apart). 'Twas here that Gianettino was killed.
FIESCO (ready to faint, to ARABELLA). Thy mistress is found--(ARABELLA advances anxiously--FIESCO casts his eyes round the whole circle--then, with a faltering voice)--'Tis true--'Tis true--And I am the instrument of this horrid deed. (Madly.) Back! back! ye human forms! Oh! (gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth wildly, and looking up toward heaven) had I but this created orb between my teeth--I feel as though I could tear the universe to fragments, till nature's face was hideous as the pain that gnaws my soul!
(To the others, that stand around, trembling.) See, how they stand aghast there, miserable creatures! blessing themselves and rejoicing that they are not as I am. I alone feel the blow. (Wildly.) I!--why I? Why not these as well? Why is my sorrow denied the balm of being shared with others?
CALCAGNO (timidly). Most gracious duke!
FIESCO (rushes on hint with a look of fiendlike joy). Ha! Welcome!
Here, Heaven be thanked, is one whom the same thunderbolt has struck!
(Pressing CALCAGNO furiously in his arms.) Brother of my sorrows!
Welcome to your share of destruction! She's dead. Didst thou not also love her? (Forcing him toward the dead body.) Behold her and despair!
She's dead. (Fixing his eyes earnestly on one part of the stage.) Oh, that I could stand upon the brink of the infernal gulf, and view below all h.e.l.l's variety of torments!--could hear the horrid shrieks of d.a.m.ned souls! (Approaching the body, trembling.) Here lies my murdered wife.
Nay--that says too little--the wife that I myself have murdered. Oh!
'Tis the cunningest of h.e.l.l's devices--first I was allured to the topmost pinnacle of joy--to the very threshold of heaven--then--in an instant hurled headlong down--and then--oh that my breath could send a pestilence to h.e.l.l! And then was made the murderer of my wife--fool that I was to trust two erring eyes? Oh, fiends, this is your masterpiece of torture!
(All the CONSPIRATORS lean upon their swords much afflicted--a pause.)
FIESCO (exhausted, and looking mournfully round the circle). Yes, by heavens! They who feared not to draw their swords against their prince are shedding tears! (With dejection.) Speak! Do you weep over this havoc caused by treacherous death, or do you bewail the fall of your leader's spirit? (Turning toward the dead body in an affecting posture.) Where iron-hearted warriors were melted into tears, Fiesco uttered only imprecations of despair. (Kneels down, weeping, by her side.) Pardon me, Leonora--the decrees of heaven are immutable; they yield not to mortal anger. (With a melancholy tenderness.) O Leonora, years ago my fancy painted that triumphant hour when I should present thee to Genoa as her d.u.c.h.ess--methought I saw the lovely blush that tinged thy modest cheek--the timid heaving of thy beauteous bosom beneath the snowy gauze-- I heard the gentle murmurs of thy voice, which died away in rapture!
(More lively.) Ah, how intoxicating to my soul were the proud acclamations of the people! How did my love rejoice to see its triumph marked in the sinking envy of its rivals! Leonora! The hour which should confirm these hopes is come. Thy Fiesco is Duke of Genoa--and yet the meanest beggar would not exchange his poverty for my greatness and my sufferings. (More affected.) He has a wife to share his troubles--with whom can I share my splendor? (He weeps bitterly, and throws himself on the dead body. Compa.s.sion marked upon the countenances of all.)
CALCAGNO. She was, indeed, a most excellent lady.
ZIBO. This event must be concealed from the people. 'Twould damp the ardor of our party and elevate the enemy with hope.
FIESCO (rises, collected and firm). Here me, Genoese! Providence, if rightly I interpret its designs, has struck me with this wound only to try my heart for my approaching greatness. The blow was terrible. Since I have felt it, I fear neither torture nor pleasure. Come! Genoa, you say, awaits me--I will give to Genoa a prince more truly great than Europe ever saw. Away!--for this unhappy princess I will prepare a funeral so splendid that life shall lose its charms, and cold corruption glitter like a bride. Follow your duke!
[Exeunt, with music and colors.
SCENE XIV.
ANDREAS, LOMELLINO.
ANDREAS. Yonder they go, with shouts of exultation.
LOMELLINO. They are intoxicated with success. The gates are deserted and all are hastening toward the senate-house.
ANDREAS. It was my nephew only whom Genoa could not brook. My nephew is no more. Hear, Lomellino!
LOMELLINO. What, duke--still--do you still hope?
ANDREAS (sternly). And dost thou tremble for my life, and mock me with the name of duke the while thou wouldst forbid me hope.
LOMELLINO. My gracious lord, a raging nation lies in Fiesco's scale; what counterpoise in yours?