LEONORA. Ah! say you so, Fiesco? You, who have watched the soul-convulsing game, which some call pastime? Have you not seen the sly deceiver, Fortune, how she leads on her votary with gradual favors, till, heated with success, he rushes headlong and stakes his all upon a single cast? Then in the decisive moment she forsakes him, a victim of his rashness—and stood you then unmoved? Oh, my husband, think not that thou hast but to show thyself among the people to be adored. 'Tis no slight task to rouse republicans from their slumber and turn them loose, like the unbridled steed, just conscious of his hoofs. Trust not those traitors. They among them who are most discerning, even while they instigate thy valor, fear it; the vulgar worship thou with senseless and unprofitable adoration. Whichever way I look Fiesco is undone.
FIESCO (pacing the room in great emotion). To be irresolute is the most certain danger. He that aspires to greatness must be daring.
LEONORA. Greatness, Fiesco! Alas! thy towering spirit ill accords with the fond wishes of my heart. Should fortune favor thy attempt—shouldst thou obtain dominion—alas! I then shall be but the more wretched. Condemned to misery shouldst thou fail—if thou succeed, to misery still greater. Here is no choice but evil. Unless he gain the ducal power, Fiesco perishes—if I embrace the duke I lose my husband.
FIESCO. I understand you not.
LEONORA. Ah! my Fiesco, in the stormy atmosphere that surrounds a throne the tender plant of love must perish. The heart of man, e'en were that heart Fiesco's, is not vast enough for two all-powerful idols—idols so hostile to each other. Love has tears, and can sympathize with tears. Ambition has eyes of stone, from which no drop of tenderness can e'er distil. Love has but one favored object, and is indifferent to all the world beside. Ambition, with insatiable hunger, rages amid the spoil of nature, and changes the immense world into one dark and horrid prison-house. Love paints in every desert an elysium. And when thou wouldest recline upon my bosom, the cares of empires, or rebellious vassals, would fright away repose. If I should throw myself into thy arms, thy despot fears would hear a murderer rushing forth to strike thee, and urge thy trembling flight through all the palace. Nay, black suspicion would at last o'erwhelm domestic concord. If thy Leonora's tenderness should offer thee a refreshing draught, thou wouldst with horror push away the goblet, and call it poison——
FIESCO (starting). Leonora, cease! These thoughts are dreadful.
LEONORA. And yet the picture is not finished. Let love be sacrificed to greatness—and even peace of mind—if Fiesco but remained unchanged. O God! that thought is racking torture. Seldom do angels ascend the throne—still seldomer do they descend it such. Can he know pity who is raised above the common fears of man? Will he speak the accents of compassion who at every wish can launch a bolt of thunder to enforce it. (She stops, then timidly advances, and takes his hand with a look of tender reproach.) Princes, Fiesco—these abortions of ambition and weakness—who presume to sit in judgment 'twixt the godhead and mortality. Wicked servants—worse rulers.
FIESCO (walking about much agitated). Leonora, cease! The bridge is raised behind me——
LEONORA (with a look of tenderness). And why, my husband? Deeds alone are irrevocable. Thou once didst swear (fondly clinging to him, and somewhat archly) that all thy projects vanished before my beauty. Thou hast foresworn thyself, dissembler—or else my charms have prematurely withered. Ask thy own heart where lies the blame? (More ardently, and throwing her arms round him.) Return, Fiesco! Conquer thyself! Renounce! Love shall indemnify thee. O Fiesco, if my heart cannot appease thy insatiate passions, the diadem will be found still poorer. Come, I'll study the inmost wishes of this soul. I will melt into one kiss of love all the charms of nature, to retain forever in these heavenly bonds the illustrious captive. As thy heart is infinite, so shall be my passion. To be a source of happiness to a being who places all its heaven in thee, Fiesco? Ought that to leave any void in thy heart.
FIESCO (with great emotion). Leonora—what hast thou done? (He falls, overcome, on her neck.) I shall never more dare to meet the eyes of Genoa's citizens.