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 duchess—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. Compassion 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!