Falieri.--Excellent sophistry, by my honour. Why, Contarino,
ancient Rome has had an irreparable loss in not having numbered you
among her orators. It is a pity, though, that there should be so
little that's solid wrapped up in so many fine-sounding words. Now
learn that while you, with this rare talent of eloquence, have been
most unmercifully wearing out the patience of your good-natured
hearers, Falieri has been in ACTION. The Cardinal Gonzaga is
discontented with the government--Heaven knows what Andreas has done
to make him so vehemently his enemy--but, in short, Gonzaga now
belongs to our party.
Parozzi (with astonishment and delight).--Falieri, are you in your
senses? The Cardinal Gonzaga--?
Falieri.--Is ours, and ours both body and soul. I confess I was
first obliged to rhodomontade a good deal to him about our
patriotism, our glorious designs, our love for freedom, and so
forth; in short, Gonzaga is a hypocrite, and therefore is Gonzaga
the fitter for us.
Contarino (clasping Falieri's hand).--Bravo, my friend! Venice
shall see a second edition of Catiline's conspiracy. Now, then, it
is MY turn to speak, for I have not been idle since we parted. In
truth, I have as yet CAUGHT nothing, but I have made myself master
of an all-powerful net, with which I doubt not to capture the best
half of Venice. You all know the Marchioness Olympia?
Parozzi.--Does not each of us keep a list of the handsomest women in
the Republic, and can we have forgotten number one?
Falieri.--Olympia and Rosabella are the goddesses of Venice; our
youths burn incense on no other altars.
Contarino.--Olympia is my own.
Falieri.--How?
Parozzi.--Olympia?
Contarino.--Why, how now? Why stare ye as had I prophesied to you
that the skies were going to fall? I tell you Olympia's heart is
mine, and that I possess her entire and most intimate confidence.
Our connection must remain a profound secret, but depend on it,
whatever I wish SHE wishes also; and you know she can make half
the nobility in Venice dance to the sound of her pipe, let her play
what tune she pleases.
Parozzi.--Contarino, you are our master.
Contarino.--And you had not the least suspicion how powerful an ally
I was labouring to procure for you?
Parozzi.--I must blush for myself while I listen to you, since as
yet I have done nothing. Yet this I must say in my excuse: Had
Matteo, bribed by my gold, accomplished Rosabella's murder, the Doge
would have been robbed of that chain with which he holds the chief
men in Venice attached to his government. Andreas would have no
merit, were Rosabella once removed. The most illustrious families
would care no longer for his friendship with their hopes of a
connection with him by means of his niece buried in her grave.
Rosabella will one day be the Doge's heiress.