It is indeed none other than Amonasro, the Ethiopian king, who, his identity unknown to the Egyptians, has been made captive by them. Swiftly gliding over to where Aïda stands, he whispers to her not to betray his rank to his captors. Then, turning to the Egyptian monarch, he craftily describes how he has seen the king of Ethiopia dead at his feet from many wounds, and concludes by entreating clemency for the conquered. Not only do the other captives and Aïda join in his prayer, but the people, moved by his words and by his noble aspect, beg their king to spare the prisoners. The priests, however, protest. The gods have delivered these enemies into the hands of Egypt; let them be put to death lest, emboldened by a pardon so easily obtained, they should rush to arms again.
Meanwhile Rhadames has had eyes only for Aïda, while Amneris notes with rising jealousy the glances he turns upon her hated slave. At last Rhadames, carried away by his feelings, himself joins in the appeal for clemency. "Oh, King," he exclaims, "by the sacred gods and by the splendour of your crown, you swore to grant my wish this day! Let it be life and liberty for the Ethiopian prisoners." But the high priest urges that even if freedom is granted to the others, Aïda and her father be detained as hostages and this is agreed upon. Then the King, as a crowning act of glory for Rhadames, leads Amneris forth, and addressing the young warrior, says:
"Rhadames, the country owes everything to you. Your reward shall be the hand of Amneris. With her one day you shall reign over Egypt."
A great shout goes up from the multitude. Unexpectedly Amneris sees herself triumphant over her rival, the dream of her heart fulfilled, and Aïda bereft of hope, since for Rhadames to refuse the hand of his king's daughter would mean treason and death. And so while all seemingly are rejoicing, two hearts are sad and bewildered. For Aïda, the man she adores appears lost to her forever and all that is left to her, the tears of hopeless love; while to Rhadames the heart of Aïda is worth more than the throne of Egypt, and its gift, with the hand of Amneris, is like the unjust vengeance of the gods descending upon his head.
This is the finale of the second act. It has been well said that not only is it the greatest effort of the composer, but also one of the grandest conceptions of modern musical and specifically operatic art. The importance of the staging, the magnificence of the spectacle, the diversity of characterization, and the strength of action of the drama all conspire to keep at an unusually high level the inspiration of the composer. The triumphal chorus, "Gloria all'Egitto" (Glory to Egypt), is sonorous and can be rendered with splendid effect.
It is preceded by a march.
[[Listen]]
Then comes the chorus of triumph.