"More noble than wise," said the Donna Florinda, who entered the balcony and looked intently on the water beneath.
"Here are musicians in the color of a noble in one gondola," she continued, "and a single cavalier in another."
"Hath he no servitor? Doth he ply the oar himself?"
"Truly that decency hath not been overlooked; one in a flowered jacket guides the boat."
"Speak, then, dearest Florinda, I pray thee."
"Would it be seemly?"
"Indeed I think it. Speak them fair. Say that I am the Senate's—that it is not discreet to urge a daughter of the state thus—say what thou wilt—but speak them fair."
"Ha! it is Don Camillo Monforte! I know him by his noble stature and the gallant wave of his hand."
"This temerity will undo him! His claim will be refused—himself banished. Is it not near the hour when the gondola of the police passes? Admonish him to depart, good Florinda—and yet can we use this rudeness to a Signor of his rank!"
"Father, counsel us; you know the hazards of this rash gallantry in the Neapolitan—aid us with thy wisdom, for there is not a moment to lose."