Lomellino.—His son is arrived in Venice, and wishes to enter into the service of the Republic. I entreat you, give the young man some respectable situation; he will prove the boast of Venice when we shall be in our graves, on that would I hazard my existence.
Andreas.—Has he sense and talent?
Lomellino.—That he has; a heart like his father’s. Will it please you to see and converse with him? He is yonder, among the masks in the great saloon. One thing I must tell you, as a specimen of his designs. He has heard of the banditti who infest Venice, and he engages that the first piece of service which he renders the Republic shall be the delivering into the hands of justice those concealed assassins, who hitherto have eluded the vigilance of our police.
Andreas.—Indeed! I doubt that promise will be too much for his power to perform. Flodoardo, I think you called him? Tell him I would speak with him.
Lomellino.—Oh! then I have gained at least the half of my cause, and I believe the whole of it, for to see Flodoardo and not to like him is as difficult as to look at Paradise and not wish to enter. To see Flodoardo and to hate him is as unlikely as that a blind man should hate the kind hand which removes the cataract from his eyes, and pours upon them the blessings of light and beauties of nature.
Andreas (smiling).—In the whole course of our acquaintance, Lomellino, never did I hear you so enthusiastic! Go, then, conduct this prodigy hither.
Lomellino.—I hasten to find him. And as for you, signora, look to yourself! look to yourself, I say!
Rosabella.—Nay, prithee, Lomellino, bring your hero hither without delay; you have raised my curiosity to the height.
Lomellino quitted the saloon.
Andreas.—How comes it that you rejoin not the dancers, my child?