Vice. Dear unfortunate youth!
Venoni. Unfortunate, say you? oh, no! the day of misfortune, the day of despair was that when I heard the death-bell sound, and they told me—twas for her! when I asked for whom was that funeral bier, and they told me—twas for her! but from that hour I ceased to suffer. It’s true, my heart—all there is a devouring fire—my brain—all there is confusion and clouds: but that fire, it was she who first kindled it! but among these gloomy clouds, she is the only object which I still perceive distinctly—she is there, near me, always there; I see her, I speak to her, she replies to me—oh! judge then, my friend, whether with justice I can be called unfortunate! (sinking into the viceroy’s arms)
Mar. Two victims! Hortensia, two victims! one has already perished, and the other—
Hor. (greatly affected) Oh! spare me, my husband! could I have forseen—never, never shall I cease to reproach myself—
Pri. My daughter, this trial is too severe for sensibility like yours. Let me entreat you, retire, and compose your mind!
Hor. You are right, father; you shall be obeyed. Venoni—farewell, Venoni! (going)
Venoni. (starting forward with a frantic look, and grasping her by the arm) Hold! you must not leave me yet! first tell me, why was the marriage so long delayed? why were your orders given, that Josepha should not see me at the convent? answer me—I will be answered!
Pri. My son, my son! you will make me repent that I allowed this interview—let us retire!
Venoni. (violently) No, no, no! I will stay here—here (with affection, and embracing the marquis) with my father. (returning to Hortensia) Answer me!
Hor. (terrified) Venoni! for heaven’s sake! have mercy!