slightly wounded. Zounds! If they thus serve a foreign tyrant, how will they guard the princes of their country!
SACCO. Numbers have flocked already to our standard, and all the gates are ours.
CALCAGNO. I hear they still are fighting desperately at the citadel.
SACCO. Bourgognino is amongst them. Where is Verrina?
CALCAGNO. He guards, like Cerberus, the passage between Genoa and the sea--an anchovy could scarcely pass him.
SACCO. I'll rouse the suburbs-----
CALCAGNO. I'll away to the market place--Drummers, strike up! (They march off, drums beating.)
MOOR. A troop of THIEVES, with lighted matches.
MOOR. Now I'll let you into a secret, my boys; 'twas I that cooked this soup, but the devil a spoonful do they give me. Well--I care not--This hubbub is just to my taste-- We'll set about burning and plundering. While they are squabbling for a dukedom, we'll make a bonfire in the churches that shall warm the frozen apostles. (They disperse themselves among the neighbouring houses.)
BOURGOGNINO--BERTHA, disguised as a boy.
BOURG Rest here, dear youth; thou art in safety. Dost thou bleed?
BERTHA (in a feigned voice). No--Not at all.
BOURG. (with energy). Rise, then, I'll lead thee where thou mayst gain wounds for Genoa--wounds beautiful like these. (Uncovering his arm.)
BERTHA (starting). Heavens!
BOURG. Art thou frightened, youth? Too early didst thou put on the man What age hast thou?
BERTHA. Fifteen years.
BOURG. That is unfortunate! For this night's business thou art five years too young.--Who is thy father?
BERTHA. The truest citizen in Genoa.
BOURG. Gently, boy! That name belongs alone to the