Parozzi.—And I tell you again that Lomellino knows not what he says.
Contarino.—Well, well, only be upon your guard. Andreas is a terrible fellow to deal with.
Falieri.—He terrible. I tell you he is the most contemptible blockhead that the universe can furnish! Courage perhaps he possesses, but of brains not an atom.
Contarino.—And I tell you that Andreas is as brave as a lion, and as crafty as a fox.
Falieri.—Pshaw! pshaw! Everything would go to rack and ruin were it not for the wiser heads of this triumvirate of counsellors, whom Heaven confound! Deprive him of Paolo Manfrone, Conari, and Lomellino, and the Doge would stand there looking as foolish as a schoolboy who was going to be examined and had forgotten his lesson.
Parozzi.—Falieri is in the right.
Memmo.—Quite, quite.
Falieri.—And then Andreas is as proud as a beggar grown rich and dressed in his first suit of embroidery. By St. Anthony, he is become quite insupportable. Do you not observe how he increases the number of his attendants daily?
Memmo.—Nay, that is an undoubted fact.
Contarino.—And then, to what an unbounded extent has he carried his influence. The Signoria, the Quaranti, the Procurators of St. Mark, the Avocatori, all think and act exactly as it suits the Doge’s pleasure and convenience! Every soul of them depends as much on that one man’s honour and caprices as puppets do who nod or shake their wooden heads just as the fellow behind the curtain thinks proper to move the wires.