ZENTURIONE. No one that will answer——
ZIBO. 'Tis strange!
ZENTURIONE. What is it o'clock?
ZIBO. Past eight.
ZENTURIONE. How bitter cold it is!
ZIBO. Eight was the hour appointed.
ZENTURIONE (shaking his head). 'Tis not all as it should be here.
ZIBO. Fiesco means to jest with us——
ZENTURIONE. To-morrow will be the ducal election. Zibo, all's not right here, depend upon it.
ZIBO. Hush! hush!