ARABELLA (astonished). And could this dream haunt a woman's mind even at the nuptial shrine?
LEONORA. Yes, my Arabella,--well mayest thou be astonished -- to the bride it came, even in the joy of the bridal hour (more animated). I am a woman, but I feel the nobleness of my blood. I cannot bear to see these proud Dorias thus overtop our family. The good old Andreas--it is a pleasure to esteem him.--He may indeed, unenvied, bear the ducal dignity; but Gianettino is his nephew--his heir--and Gianettino has a proud and wicked heart. Genoa trembles before him, and Fiesco (much affected)--Fiesco--weep with me, damsels!--loves his sister.
ARABELLA. Alas, my wretched mistress!
LEONORA. Go now, and see this demi-god of the Genoese amid the shameless circles of debauchery and lust! hear the vile jests and wanton ribaldry with which he entertains his base companions!--That is Fiesco!--Ah, damsels, not only has Genoa lost its hero, but I have lost my husband!
ROSA. Speak lower! some one is coming through the gallery.
LEONORA (alarmed). Ha! 'Tis Fiesco--let us hasten away --the sight of me might for a moment interrupt his happiness. (She hastens into a side apartment; the maids follow.)
GIANETTINO DORIA, masked, in a green cloak, and the MOOR. enter in conversation.
GIANET. Thou hast understood me?
GIANET. The white mask-----
GIANET. I say, the white mask-----
GIANET. Dost thou mark me? Thou canst only fail here! (pointing to his heart.)
MOOR. Give yourself no concern.
GIANET. And be sure to strike home-----
MOOR. He shall have enough.
GIANET. (maliciously). That the poor Count may not have long to suffer.
MOOR. With your leave, sir, a word--at what weight do you estimate his head?