Fiesco | Page 5

prince, it is the second dignity in the state; more than threescore noblemen seek it, and all of them more wealthy and honorable than your grace's humble servant.
GIANETTINO (indignantly). By the name of Doria! You shall be procurator. (The three masks come forward). What talk you of nobility in Genoa? Let them all throw their ancestry and honors into the scale, one hair from the white beard of my old uncle will make it kick the beam. It is my will that you be procurator, and that is tantamount to the votes of the whole senate.
LOMELLINO (in a low voice). The damsel is the only daughter of one Verrina.
GIANETTINO. The girl is pretty, and, in spite of all the devils in hell, I must possess her.
LOMELLINO. What, my lord! the only child of the most obstinate of our republicans?
GIANETTINO. To hell with your republicans! Shall my passion be thwarted by the anger of a vassal? 'Tis as vain as to expect the tower should fall when the boys pelt it with mussel-shells. (The three black masks step nearer, with great emotion.) What! Has the Duke Andreas gained his scars in battle for their wives and children, only that his nephew should court the favor of these vagabond republicans! By the name of Doria they shall swallow this fancy of mine, or I will plant a gallows over the bones of my uncle, on which their Genoese liberty shall kick itself to death. (The three masks step back in disgust.)
LOMELLINO. The damsel is at this moment alone. Her father is here, and one of those three masks.
GIANETTINO. Excellent! Bring me instantly to her.
LOMELLINO. But you will seek in her a mistress, and find a prude.
GIANETTINO. Force is the best rhetoric. Lead me to her. Would I could see that republican dog that durst stand in the way of the bear Doria. (Going, meets FIESCO at the door.) Where is the Countess?

SCENE VI.
FIESCO and the former.
FIESCO. I have handed her to her carriage. (Takes GIANETTINO'S hand, and presses it to his breast.) Prince, I am now doubly your slave. To you I bow, as sovereign of Genoa--to your lovely sister, as mistress of my heart.
LOMELLINO. Fiesco has become a mere votary of pleasure. The great world has lost much in you.
FIESCO. But Fiesco has lost nothing in giving up the world. To live is to dream, and to dream pleasantly is to be wise. Can this be done more certainly amid the thunders of a throne, where the wheels of government creak incessantly upon the tortured ear, than on the heaving bosom of an enamored woman? Let Gianettino rule over Genoa; Fiesco shall devote himself to love.
GIANETTINO. Away, Lomellino! It is near midnight. The time draws near --Lavagna, we thank thee for thy entertainment--I have been satisfied.
FIESCO. That, prince, is all that I can wish.
GIANETTINO. Then good-night! To-morrow we have a party at the palace, and Fiesco is invited. Come, procurator!
FIESCO. Ho! Lights there! Music!
GIANETTINO (haughtily, rushing through the three masks). Make way there for Doria!
ONE OF THE THREE MASKS (murmuring indignantly). Make way? In hell! Never in Genoa!
THE GUESTS (in motion). The prince is going. Good night, Lavagna! (They depart.)

SCENE VII.
The THREE BLACK MASKS and FIESCO. (A pause.)
FIESCO. I perceive some guests here who do not share the pleasure of the feast.
MASKS (murmuring to each other with indignation). No! Not one of us.
FIESCO (courteously). Is it possible that my attention should have been wanting to any one of my guests? Quick, servants! Let the music be renewed, and fill the goblets to the brim. I would not that my friends should find the time hang heavy. Will you permit me to amuse you with fireworks. Would you choose to see the frolics of my harlequin? Perhaps you would be pleased to join the ladies. Or shall we sit down to faro, and pass the time in play?
A MASK. We are accustomed to spend it in action.
FIESCO. A manly answer--such as bespeaks Verrina.
VERRINA (unmasking). Fiesco is quicker to discover his friends beneath their masks than they to discover him beneath his.
FIESCO. I understand you not. But what means that crape of mourning around your arm? Can death have robbed Verrina of a friend, and Fiesco not know the loss?
VERRINA. Mournful tales ill suit Fiesco's joyful feasts.
FIESCO. But if a friend--(pressing his hand warmly.) Friend of my soul! For whom must we both mourn?
VRRRINA. Both! both! Oh, 'tis but too true we both should mourn--yet not all sons lament their mother.
FIESCO. 'Tis long since your mother was mingled with the dust.
VERRINA (with an earnest look). I do remember me that Fiesco once called me brother, because we both were sons of the same country!
FIESCO (jocosely). Oh, is it only that? You meant then but to jest? The mourning dress is worn for Genoa!