Hopeless all her appeals, hopeless that she falls on her knees before them. Each strikes the air with his arm as he addresses her; not one feels pity.
“Who, then, is this woman?” said Gennaro; “dare I hear?”
“Gennaro, do not believe them; they mistake me.”
“Oh! no mistake, lady,” cried out Orsini; “remove thy mask. She is the woman who hath shamed all women; she is the woman whom all ages shall abhor; whose breath is poison, whose look is death, whom Heaven pities too much to destroy.”
“Spare me! spare me!”
“As thou hast spared.”
“Be merciful; there is yet time. Gennaro, see, I cling to thee; forbid them. Be merciful, signors! spare me!”
“As thou hast spared.”
Then the Orsini tore the mask from her face.
“Behold her—Lucrezia Borgia.”