ARABELLA. Let them kill me! What have I now to dread? Have pity on me, Genoese. 'Twas here I left my dearest mistress, and nowhere can I find her.
FIESCO (approaching her—with a low and trembling voice.) Was Leonora thy mistress?
ARABELLA (with pleasure). Are you there, my most gracious and dear good lord? Be not displeased with us. We could no longer restrain her.
FIESCO (in alarm). Restrain her! Wretch! From what?
ARABELLA. From following——
FIESCO (violently). Ha! From following what?
ARABELLA. The tumult——
FIESCO. What was her dress?
ARABELLA. A Scarlet mantle.
FIESCO (in a transport of rage). Get thee to the abyss of hell! The mantle?