A sound of hurrying footsteps on the breeze?
We are betray’d.—Who art thou?
Vittoria enters.
Pro. One alone
Should be thus daring. Lady, lift the veil
That shades thy noble brow.
[She raises her veil—the Sicilians draw back with respect.
Sicilians. Th’ affianced bride
Of our lost king!
Pro. And more, Montalba; know