Parozzi.--I shall go mad.
Falieri.--Everything we design is counteracted; the more trouble we
give ourselves, the further we are from the goal.
Memmo.--I confess it seems to me as if Heaven gave us warning to
desist. How say you?
Contarino.--Pshaw, these are trifles! Such accidents should only
serve to sharpen our wits. The more obstacles I encounter, the
firmer is my resolution to surmount them.
Falieri.--Do the banditti know who you are?
Contarino.--No; they are not only ignorant of my name, but suppose
me to be a mere instrument of some powerful man, who has been
injured by the ducal confederates.
Memmo.--Well, Contarino, in my mind you should thank Heaven that you
have escaped so well.
Falieri.--But since he is an absolute stranger in Venice, how could
Flodoardo discover the lurking place of the banditti?
Contarino.--I know not; probably by mere accident like myself, but
by the Power that made me, he shall pay dearly for this wound.
Falieri.--Flodoardo is rather too hasty in making himself remarked.
Parozzi.--Flodoardo must die.
Contarino (filling a goblet).--May his next cup contain poison.
Falieri.--I shall do myself the honour of becoming better acquainted
with the gentleman.
Contarino.--Memmo, we must needs have full purses, or our business
will hang on hand wofully.
When does your uncle take his departure to a better world?
Memmo.--To-morrow evening, and yet--ugh, I tremble.