Dark forms are moving forward in every direction, from before us, behind us, and from either side; lights and shadows, driven to and fro by the wind, float like living spirits through the throng.
A Passer-by. I greet you, citizens, in the name of freedom!
Second Passer-by. I greet you in the name of the slaughter of the nobles!
Third Passer-by. The priests chant the praise of freedom; why do you not hasten forward?
The Baptized. We cannot resist the pressure of the throng; they drive us on from every side.
The Man. Who is this young man standing in front of us, mounted upon the ruins of the shrine? Three flames burn beneath him, his face shines from the midst of fire and smoke, his voice rings like the shriek of a maniac; and his gestures are rapid and eager?
The Baptized. That is Leonard, the inspired and enthusiastic prophet of freedom. Our priests, our philosophers, our poets, our artists, with their daughters and loved ones, are standing round him.
The Man. Ha, I understand; your aristocracy! Point out to me the man who sent you to seek an interview with me.
The Baptized. He is not here.
Leonard. Fly to my arms; cling to my lips; come to me, my beautiful bride! Independent, free, stripped of the veils of hypocrisy, full of love, untrammelled from the chilling fetters of prejudice, come to me, thou chosen one of the lovely daughters of freedom!