FIESCO. Who was it that just now departed?
MOOR. The Marquis Calcagno.
FIESCO. This handkerchief was left upon the sofa. My wife has been here.
MOOR. I met her this moment in great agitation.
FIESCO. This handkerchief is moist (puts it in his pocket). Calcagno here? And Leonora agitated? This evening thou must learn what has happened.
MOOR. Miss Bella likes to hear that she is fair. She will inform me.
FIESCO. Well—thirty hours are past. Hast thou executed my commission?
MOOR. To the letter, my lord.
FIESCO (seating himself). Then tell me how they talk of Doria, and of the government.
MOOR. Oh, most vilely. The very name of Doria shakes them like an ague-fit. Gianettino is as hateful to them as death itself—there's naught but murmuring. They say the French have been the rats of Genoa, the cat Doria has devoured them, and now is going to feast upon the mice.