VEERINA (muttering). Hum! Is liberty then out of fashion, that republics are so lightly thrown away upon the first that offers himself?
FIESCO (bites his lips). Verrina, say this to no one but Fiesco.
VERRINA. Oh, of course! Great indeed must be that mind which can hear the voice of truth without offence. But alas! the cunning gamester has failed in one single card. He calculated all the chances of envious opposition, but unfortunately overlooked one antagonist—the patriot— (very significantly). But perhaps the oppressor of liberty has still in store some scheme for banishing patriotic virtue. I swear by the living God that posterity shall sooner collect my mouldering bones from off the wheel than from a sepulchre within that country which is governed by a duke.
FIESCO (taking him tenderly by the hand). Not even when that duke is thy brother? Not if he should make his principality the treasury of that benevolence which was restrained by his domestic poverty? Not even then, Verrina.
VERRINA. No—not even then! We pardon not the robber because he made gifts of his plunder, nor does such generosity suit Verrina. I might permit my fellow-citizens to confer a benefit on me—because I should hope some day to make them an adequate return. That which a prince confers is bounty; but bounty undeserved I would receive alone from God.
FIESCO (angrily). It were as easy to tear Italy from the bosom of the ocean as to shake this stubborn enthusiast from his prejudices.
VERRINA. Well mayst thou talk of tearing: thou hast torn the republic from Doria, as a lamb from the jaws of the wolf, only that thou mightest devour it thyself. But enough of this—just tell me, duke, what crime the poor wretch committed whom you ordered to be hung up at the church of the Jesuits?
FIESCO. The scoundrel set fire to the city.
VERRINA. Yet the scoundrel left the laws untouched.
FIESCO. Verrina presumes upon my friendship.