“Arrest him, arrest him; I’m off,” amid the derisive laughter of the audience.
Then Samson came on in his fury, armed with the jawbone of an ass; Turiddu said it was of a horse, but I knew better, at least, I knew what it ought to have been. The soldiers did their best, but he knocked them all down again as before amid immense cheering.
The next scene was outside a castle in the country. Samson came on alone with his jawbone, and stood silent, very terrible, and waiting for an opportunity to break out.
The silence was prolonged. Nothing happened. It was a pause of expectation.
Then we heard a voice, a solemn, cavernous voice with a vibrato like a cinematograph, calling loud and slow—
“Sansone, Sansone, Sansone!”
“Whose voice is that?” exclaimed Samson, looking round and seeing no one.
The voice repeated its call two or three times and at last Samson recognized it.
“E la voce del mio genitore.”
“Sansone, Sansone, Sansone! In questa torre sono incarcerato.”