Parozzi (with astonishment and delight).—Falieri, are you in your senses? The Cardinal Gonzaga—?
Falieri.—Is ours, and ours both body and soul. I confess I was first obliged to rhodomontade a good deal to him about our patriotism, our glorious designs, our love for freedom, and so forth; in short, Gonzaga is a hypocrite, and therefore is Gonzaga the fitter for us.
Contarino (clasping Falieri’s hand).—Bravo, my friend! Venice shall see a second edition of Catiline’s conspiracy. Now, then, it is my turn to speak, for I have not been idle since we parted. In truth, I have as yet caught nothing, but I have made myself master of an all-powerful net, with which I doubt not to capture the best half of Venice. You all know the Marchioness Olympia?
Parozzi.—Does not each of us keep a list of the handsomest women in the Republic, and can we have forgotten number one?
Falieri.—Olympia and Rosabella are the goddesses of Venice; our youths burn incense on no other altars.
Contarino.—Olympia is my own.
Falieri.—How?
Parozzi.—Olympia?
Contarino.—Why, how now? Why stare ye as had I prophesied to you that the skies were going to fall? I tell you Olympia’s heart is mine, and that I possess her entire and most intimate confidence. Our connection must remain a profound secret, but depend on it, whatever I wish she wishes also; and you know she can make half the nobility in Venice dance to the sound of her pipe, let her play what tune she pleases.
Parozzi.—Contarino, you are our master.