A Hall.
Enter the Count, speaking to an Officer; Fabian following.
Count. Not to be found! is this your faithful service?
How could she pass unseen? By hell, 'tis false!
Thou hast betray'd me.
Offi. Noble sir! my duty——
Count. Your fraud, your negligence—away, reply not.
Find her within this hour; else, by my life,
The gates of Narbonne shall be clos'd against thee;
Then make the world thy country.