Scene I.--The same.

The Prince and Marinelli.

PRINCE.

Come, Marinelli, I must collect myself--I look to you for explanation.

MARINELLI.

Oh! maternal anger! Ha! ha! ha!

PRINCE.

You laugh?

MARINELLI.

Had you, Prince, but seen her frantic conduct in this room! You heard how she screamed; yet how tame she became as soon as she beheld you! Ha! ha! Yes--I never yet knew the mother who scratched a prince's eyes out, because he thought her daughter handsome.

PRINCE.

You are a poor observer. The daughter fell senseless into her mother's arms. This made the mother forget her rage. It was her daughter, not me, whom she spared, when, in a low voice, she uttered--what I myself had rather not have heard--had rather not have understood.

MARINELLI.

What means your Highness?

PRINCE.

Why this dissimulation? Answer me. Is it true or false?

MARINELLI.

And if it were true!

PRINCE.

If it were! It is, then--he is dead (in a threatening tone). Marinelli! Marinelli!

MARINELLI.

Well?

PRINCE.

By the God of justice I swear that I am innocent of this blood. Had you previously told me that the Count's life must be sacrificed--God is my witness I would as soon have consented to lose my own.

MARINELLI.

Had I previously told you! As if the Count's death was part of my plan! I charged Angelo that on his soul he should take care that no person suffered injury; and this, too, would have been the case, had not the Count begun the fray, and shot the first assailant on the spot.

PRINCE.

Indeed! he ought to have understood the joke better.

MARINELLI.

So that Angelo was enraged, and instantly avenged his comrade's death----

PRINCE.

Well, that is certainly very natural.

MARINELLI.

I have reproved him for it.

PRINCE.

Reproved him! How good--natured! Advise him never to appear again in my dominions; for my reproof might not be found so good-natured.

MARINELLI.

Just as I foresaw! I and Angelo.--Design and accident; all the same.--It was, however, agreed, and indeed promised, that I should not be answerable for any accidents which might happen.

PRINCE.

Might happen, say you, or must?

MARINELLI.

Still better! Yet one word, your Highness, before you say in harsh phrase what you think of me. The Count's death was far from being a matter of indifference to me. I had challenged him. He left the world without giving me satisfaction, and my honour, consequently, remains tarnished. Allowing, therefore, what under other circumstances I deserved the suspicion you allude to, can I in this? (with assumed anger.) He who can so suspect me----

PRINCE (yielding).

Well, well!

MARINELLI.

Oh that he were still alive! I would give all that I possess--(with bitterness)--even the favour of my Prince--even that treasure, invaluable and never to be trifled with, would I give.

PRINCE.

Well, well! I understand you. His death was accidental, merely accidental--you assure me that it was so, and I believe it. But will any one else believe it? Will Emilia--her mother--the world?

MARINELLI (coldly).

Scarcely.

PRINCE.

What, then, will they believe? You shrug your shoulders. They will suppose Angelo the tool and me the prime mover.

MARINELLI (still more coldly).

Probable enough!

PRINCE.

Me! me, myself!--or from this hour I must resign all hopes of Emilia.

MARINELLI (in a tone of perfect indifference).

Which you must also have done, had the Count lived.

PRINCE (violently).

Marinelli!--(checking his warmth)--But you shall not rouse my anger. Be it so. It is so. You mean to imply that the Count's death is fortunate for me;--the best thing which could have happened--the only circumstance which could bring my passion to a happy issue--and, therefore, no matter how it happened. A Count more or less in the world is of little consequence. Am I right?--I am not alarmed at a little crime; but it must be a secret little crime, a serviceable little crime. But ours has not been either secret or serviceable. It has opened a passage only to close it again. Every one will lay it to our door. And, after all, we have not perpetrated it at all. This can only be the result of your wise and wonderful management.

MARINELLI.

If your Highness have it so----

PRINCE.

Why not?--I want an explanation----

MARINELLI.

I am accused of more than I deserve.

PRINCE.

I want an explanation.

MARINELLI.

Well then, what error in my plans has attached such obvious suspicion to the Prince? The fault lies in the master-stroke which your Highness so graciously put to my plans----

PRINCE.

I?

MARINELLI.

Allow me to say that the step which you took at church this morning--with whatever circumspection it was done, or however inevitable it might be--was not part of my programme.

PRINCE.

How did that injure it?

MARINELLI.

Not indeed the whole plan, but its opportuneness.

PRINCE.

Do I understand you?

MARINELLI.

To speak more intelligibly. When I undertook the business, Emilia knew nothing of the Prince's attachment. Her mother just as little. How if I formed my foundation upon this circumstance, and in the meantime the Prince was undermining my edifice?

PRINCE (striking his forehead).

Damnation!

MARINELLI.

How, if he himself betrayed his intentions?

PRINCE.

Cursed interposition!

MARINELLI.

For had he not so behaved himself I should like to know what part of my plan could have raised the least suspicion in the mind of the mother or the daughter?

PRINCE.

You are right.

MARINELLI.

And therein I certainly am very wrong.--Pardon me.

Scene II.

Battista, The Prince, Marinelli.

Enter BATTISTA (hastily).

The Countess is arrived.

PRINCE.

The Countess? What Countess?

BATTISTA.

Orsina!

PRINCE.

Orsina? Marinelli!

MARINELLI.

I am as much astonished as yourself.

PRINCE (to Battista).

Go--run--Battista. She must not alight. I am not here--not here to her. She must return this instant. Go, go. (Exit Battista). What does the silly woman want? How dares she take this liberty? How could she know that we were here? Is she come as a spy? Can she have heard anything? Oh, Marinelli, speak, answer me. Is the man offended, who vows he is my friend--offended by a paltry altercation? Shall I beg pardon?

MARINELLI.

Prince, as soon as you recover yourself, I am yours again, with my whole soul. The arrival of Orsina is as much an enigma to me as to you. But she will not be denied. What will you do?

PRINCE.

I will not speak to her. I will withdraw.

MARINELLI.

Right! Do so instantly; I will receive her.

PRINCE.

But merely to dismiss her. No more. We have other business to perform.

MARINELLI.

Not so, not so. Our other things are done. Summon up resolution and all deficiencies will be supplied. But do I not hear her? Hasten, Prince. In that room (pointing to an adjoining apartment, to which the Prince retires)--you may, if you please, listen to our conversation. She comes, I fear, at an unpropitious moment for her.

Scene III.

The Countess Orsina, Marinelli.

ORSINA (without perceiving Marinelli).

What means this? No one comes to meet me, but a shameless servant, who endeavours to obstruct my entrance. Surely I am at Dosalo, where, on former occasions, an army of attendants rushed to receive me--where love and ecstasy awaited me. Yes. The place is the same, but----Ha! you here, Marinelli? I am glad the Prince has brought you with him. Yet, no. My business with his Highness must be transacted with himself only. Where is he?

MARINELLI.

The Prince, Countess?

ORSINA.

Who else?

MARINELLI.

You suppose that he is here, then,--or know it, perhaps. He, however, does not expect a visit from your ladyship.

ORSINA.

Indeed! He has not then received my letter this morning.

MARINELLI.

Your letter? But--yes. I remember he mentioned that he had received one.

ORSINA.

Well? Did I not in that letter request he would meet me here to-day? I own he did not think proper to return a written answer; but I learnt that an hour afterwards he drove from town to Dosalo. This I thought a sufficient answer, and therefore I have come.

MARINELLI.

A strange accident!

ORSINA.

Accident! It was an agreement--at least as good as an agreement. On my part, the letter--on his, the deed. How you stand staring, Marquis! What surprises you?

MARINELLI.

You seemed resolved yesterday never to appear before the Prince again.

ORSINA.

Night is a good councillor. Where is he? Where is he? Doubtless in the chamber, whence sighs and sobs were issuing as I passed. I wished to enter, but the impertinent servant would not let me pass.

MARINELLI.

Dearest Countess----

ORSINA.

I heard a woman's shriek. What means this, Marinelli? Tell me--if I be your dearest Countess--tell me. A curse on these court slaves! Their tales! their lies! But what matters it whether you choose to tell me or not? I will see for myself.

MARINELLI (holding her back).

Whither would you go?

ORSINA.

Where I ought to have gone long since. Is it proper, think you, that I should waste any time in idle conversation with you in the ante-chamber, when the Prince expects me in the saloon?

MARINELLI.

You are mistaken, Countess. The Prince does not expect you here. He cannot--will not see you.

ORSINA.

And yet is here, in consequence of my letter.

MARINELLI.

Not in consequence of your letter.

ORSINA.

He received it, you say.

MARINELLI.

Yes, but he did not read it.

ORSINA (violently).

Not read it! (Less violently.) Not read it! (Sorrowfully, and wiping away a tear.) Not even read it!

MARINELLI.

From preoccupation, I am certain, not contempt.

ORSINA (with pride).

Contempt! Who thought of such a thing? To whom do you use the term? Marinelli, your comfort is impertinent. Contempt! Contempt! To me! (In a milder tone.) It is true that he no longer loves me. That is certain. And in place of love something else has filled his soul. It is natural. But why should this be contempt? Indifference would be enough. Would it not, Marinelli?

MARINELLI.

Certainly, certainly.

ORSINA (with a scornful look).

Certainly! What an oracle, who can be made to say what one pleases! Indifference in the place of love!--That means nothing in the place of something. For learn, thou mimicking court-parrot, learn from a woman, that indifference is but an empty word, a mere sound which means nothing. The mind can only be indifferent to objects of which it does not think; to things which for itself have no existence. Only indifferent for a thing that is nothing--that is as much as saying not indifferent. Is that meaning beyond thee, man?

MARINELLI (aside).

Alas! how prophetic were my fears?

ORSINA.

What do you mutter?

MARINELLI.

Mere admiration! Who does not know, Countess, that you are a philosopher?

ORSINA.

Am I not? True; I am a philosopher. But have I now shown it; ah, shame! If I have shown it, and have often done so, it were no wonder if the Prince despised me. How can man love a creature which, in spite of him, will think? A woman who thinks is as silly as a man who uses paint. She ought to laugh--do nothing but laugh, that the mighty lords of the creation may be kept in good humour--What makes me laugh now, Marinelli? Why, the accidental circumstance that I should have written to the Prince to come hither--that he should not have read my letter and nevertheless have come. Ha! ha! ha! 'Tis an odd accident, very pleasant and amusing. Why don't you laugh, Marinelli? The mighty lords of the creation may laugh, though we poor creatures dare not think. (In a serious and commanding tone.) Then laugh, you!

MARINELLI.

Presently, Countess, presently.

ORSINA.

Blockhead! while you speak the proper moment is for ever past. No. Do not laugh--for mark me, Marinelli, (with emotion) that which makes me laugh, has, like every thing in the world, its serious side. Accident! Could it be accidental that the Prince, who little thought that he would see me here, must see me?--Accident! Believe me, Marinelli, the word accident is blasphemy. Nothing under the sun is accidental, and least of all this, of which the purpose is so evident.--Almighty and all--bounteous Providence, pardon me that I joined this poor weak sinner in giving the name of accident to what so plainly is Thy work--yes, Thy immediate work. (In a hasty tone to Marinelli.) Dare not again to lead me thus astray from truth.

MARINELLI.

This is going too far (aside)--But, Countess----

ORSINA.

Peace with your but--that word demands reflection, and--my head, my head!--(Puts her hand to her forehead)--Contrive that I may speak to the Prince immediately, or I shall soon want strength to do so. You see, Marinelli, that I must speak to him--that I am resolved to speak to him.

Scene IV.

The Prince, Orsina, Marinelli.

PRINCE (aside, as he advances).

I must come to his assistance.

ORSINA (espies him, but remains irresolute whether to approach him or not).

Ha! There he is.

PRINCE (walks straight across the room towards the other apartments).

Ha! The fair Countess, as I live. How sorry I am, Madam, that I can to-day so ill avail myself of the honour of your visit. I am engaged. I am not alone. Another time, dear Countess, another time. At present stay no longer--no longer, I beg. And you, Marinelli--I want you. (Exit.)

Scene V.

Orsina, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

Your ladyship has now heard, from himself, what you would not believe from my lips, have you not?

ORSINA (as if petrified).

Have I? Have, I indeed?

MARINELLI.

Most certainly.

ORSINA (deeply affected).

"I am engaged, I am not alone." Is this all the excuse I am worth? For whose dismissal would not these words serve? For every importunate, for every beggar. Could he not frame one little falsehood for me? Engaged! With what? Not alone! Who can be with him? Marinelli, dear Marinelli, be compassionate--tell me a falsehood on your own account. What can a falsehood cost you? What has he to do? Who is with him? Tell me, tell me. Say anything which first occurs to you, and I will go.

MARINELLI (aside).

On this condition, I may tell her part of the truth.

ORSINA.

Quick, Marinelli, and I will go. He said, "Another time, dear Countess!" Did he not? That he may keep his promise--that he may have no pretext to break it--quick, then, Marinelli,--tell me a falsehood, and I will go.

MARINELLI.

The Prince, dear Countess, is really not alone. There are persons with him, whom he cannot leave for a moment--persons, who have just escaped imminent danger. Count Appiani----

ORSINA.

Is with him! What a pity that I know this to be false! Quick, another! for Count Appiani, if you do not know it, has just been assassinated by robbers. I met the carriage, with his body in it, as I came from town. Or did I not? Was it a dream?

MARINELLI.

Alas, it was not a dream. But they who accompanied the Count were fortunately rescued, and are now in this palace; namely, a lady to whom he was betrothed, and whom, with her mother, he was conducting to Sabionetta, to celebrate his nuptials.

ORSINA.

They are with the Prince! A lady and her mother! Is the lady handsome?

MARINELLI.

The Prince is extremely sorry for her situation.

ORSINA.

That he would be, I hope, even if she were hideous--for her fate is dreadful. Poor girl! at the moment he was to become thine for ever, he was torn for ever from thee. Who is she? Do I know her? I have of late been so much out of town, that I am ignorant of every thing.

MARINELLI.

It is Emilia Galotti.

ORSINA.

What? Emilia Galotti? Oh, Marinelli, let me not mistake this lie for truth.

MARINELLI.

Why?

ORSINA.

Emilia Galotti?

MARINELLI.

Yes. Whom you can scarcely know.

ORSINA.

I do know her--though our acquaintance only began to-day. Emilia Galotti! Answer me seriously. Is Emilia Galotti the unfortunate lady whom the Prince is consoling?

MARINELLI (aside).

Can I have disclosed too much?

ORSINA.

And Count Appiani was her destined bridegroom--Count Appiani, who was shot to-day?

MARINELLI.

Exactly.

ORSINA (clapping her hands).

Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!

MARINELLI.

What now?

ORSINA.

I could kiss the devil that tempted him to do it.

MARINELLI.

Whom? Tempted? To do what?

ORSINA.

Yes, I could kiss--him--even wert thou that devil, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

Countess!

ORSINA.

Come hither. Look at me--steadfastly--eye to eye.

MARINELLI.

Well?

ORSINA.

Know you not my thoughts?

MARINELLI.

How can I?

ORSINA.

Have you no concern in it?

MARINELLI.

In what?

ORSINA.

Swear. No, do not swear, for that might be another crime. But yes--swear. One sin more or less is of no consequence to a man who is already damned. Have you no concern in it?

MARINELLI.

You alarm me, Countess.

ORSINA.

Indeed! Now, Marinelli--has your good heart no suspicion?

MARINELLI.

Suspicion? Of what?

ORSINA.

'Tis well. Then I will entrust you with a secret--a secret, which will make each hair upon your head stand on end. But here, so near the door, some one might overhear us. Come here--(puts her finger to her mouth)--mark me, it is a secret--a profound secret. (Places her mouth to his ear, as if about to whisper, and shouts as loudly as she can) The Prince is a murderer!

MARINELLI.

Countess! Countess! Have you lost your senses?

ORSINA.

Senses? Ha! ha! ha! (laughing loudly). I have very seldom, if ever, been so satisfied with my understanding as I am at this moment. Depend upon it, Marinelli--but it is between ourselves--(in a low voice)--the Prince is a murderer--the murderer of Count Appiani. The Count was assassinated, not by robbers, but by the Prince's myrmidons, by the Prince himself.

MARINELLI.

How can so horrid a suspicion fall from your lips, or enter your imagination?

ORSINA.

How? Very naturally. This Emilia Galotti, who is now in the palace, and whose bridegroom--was thus trundled head over heels out of the world--this Emilia Galotti did the Prince to-day accost in the Church of the Dominicans, and held a lengthy conversation with her. That I know, for my spies not only saw it, but heard what he said. Now, sir, have I lost my senses? Methinks I connect the attendant circumstances very tolerably together. Or has all this happened, too, by accident? If so, Marinelli, you have as little idea of the wickedness of man as you have of prevision.

MARINELLI.

Countess, you would talk your life into danger----

ORSINA.

Were I to mention this to others? So much the better! So much the better! To-morrow I will repeat it aloud in the market-place--and, if any one contradict me--if any one contradict me, he was the murderer's accomplice. Farewell. (As she is going, she meets Odoardo entering hastily.)

Scene VI.

Odoardo, Orsina, Marinelli.

ODOARDO.

Pardon me, gracious lady----

ORSINA.

I can grant no pardon here, for I can take no offence. You must apply to this gentleman (pointing to Marinelli).

MARINELLI (aside).

The father! This completes the business.

ODOARDO.

Pardon a father, sir, who is in the greatest embarrassment, for entering unannounced.

ORSINA.

Father!--(turning round again)--Of Emilia, no doubt! Ha! Thou art welcome.

ODOARDO.

A servant came in haste to tell me that my family was in danger near here. I flew hither, he mentioned, and found that Count Appiani has been wounded--and carried back to town--and that my wife and daughter have found refuge in the palace. Where are they, sir, where are they?

MARINELLI.

Be calm, Colonel. Your wife and daughter have sustained no injury save from terror. They are both well. The Prince is with them. I will immediately announce you.

ODOARDO.

Why announce? merely announce me?

MARINELLI.

For reasons--on account of--on account of--you know, sir, that you are not upon the most friendly terms with the Prince. Gracious as may be his conduct towards your wife and daughter--they are ladies--will your unexpected appearance be welcome to him?

ODOARDO.

You are right, my lord, you are right.

MARINELLI.

But, Countess, may I not first have the honour of handing you to your carriage?

ORSINA.

By no means.

MARINELLI (taking her hand, not in the most gentle way).

Allow me to perform my duty.

ORSINA.

Softly!--I excuse you, Marquis. Why do such as you ever consider mere politeness a duty, and neglect as unimportant what is really an essential duty? To announce this worthy man immediately is your duty.

MARINELLI.

Have you forgotten what the Prince himself commanded?

ORSINA.

Let him come, and repeat his commands. I shall expect him.

MARINELLI (draws Odoardo aside).

I am obliged to leave you, Colonel, with a lady whose intellect--you understand me, I mention this that you may know in what way to treat her remarks, which are sometimes singular. It were better not to enter into conversation with her.

ODOARDO.

Very well. Only make haste, my lord.

(Exit Marinelli.)

Scene VII.

Orsina, Odoardo.

ORSINA (after a pause, during which she has surveyed Odoardo with a look of compassion, while he has cast towards her a glance of curiosity).

Alas! What did he say to you, unfortunate man?

ODOARDO (half aside).

Unfortunate!

ORSINA.

Truth it certainly was not--at least, not one of those sad truths which await you.

ODOARDO.

Which await me? Do I, then, not know enough? Madam--but proceed, proceed.

ORSINA.

You know nothing?

ODOARDO.

Nothing.

ORSINA.

Worthy father! What would I give that you were my father! Pardon me. The unfortunate so willingly associate together. I would faithfully share your sorrows--and your anger.

ODOARDO.

Sorrows and anger? Madam--but I forget--go on.

ORSINA.

Should she even be your only daughter--your only child--but it matters not. An unfortunate child is ever an only one.

ODOARDO.

Unfortunate?--Madam! But why do I attend to her? And yet, by Heaven, no lunatic speaks thus.

ORSINA.

Lunatic? That, then, was the secret which he told you of me. Well, well. It is perhaps not one of his greatest falsehoods. I feel that I am something like one; and believe me, sir, they who, under certain circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.

ODOARDO.

What must I think?

ORSINA.

Treat me not with contempt, old man. You possess strong sense. I know it by your resolute and reverend mien. You also possess sound judgment, yet I need but speak one word, and both these qualities are fled for ever.

ODOARDO.

Oh, Madam, they will have fled before you speak that word, unless you pronounce it soon. Speak, I conjure you; or it is not true that you are one of that good class of lunatics who claim our pity and respect; you are naught else than a common fool. You cannot have what you never possessed.

ORSINA.

Mark my words, then. What do you know, who fancy that you know enough? That Appiani is wounded? Wounded only? He is dead.

ODOARDO.

Dead? Dead? Woman, you abide not by your promise. You said you would rob me of my reason, but you break my heart.

ORSINA.

Thus much by the way. Now, let me proceed. The bridegroom is dead, and the bride, your daughter, worse than dead.

ODOARDO.

Worse? Worse than dead? Say that she too is dead--for I know but one thing worse.

ORSINA.

She is not dead; no, good father, she is alive, and will now just begin to live indeed; the finest, merriest fool's paradise of a life--as long as it lasts.

ODOARDO.

Say the word, Madam! The single word, which is to deprive me of my reason! Out with it! Distil not thus your poison drop by drop. That single word at once!

ORSINA.

You yourself shall put the letters of it together. This morning the Prince spoke to your daughter at church; this afternoon he has her at his----his summer-palace.

ODOARDO.

Spoke to her at church? The Prince to my daughter?

ORSINA.

With such familiarity and such fervour. Their agreement was about no trifling matter; and if they did agree, all the better: all the better if your daughter made this her voluntary asylum. You understand--and in that case this is no forcible seduction, but only a trifling--trifling assassination.

ODOARDO.

Calumny! Infamous calumny! I know my daughter. If there be murder here, there is seduction also, (Looks wildly round, stamping and foaming.) Now, Claudia! Now, fond mother! Have we not lived to see a day of joy? Oh, the gracious Prince! Oh, the mighty honour!

ORSINA (aside).

Have I roused thee, old man?

ODOARDO.

Here I stand before the robber's cave. (Throws his coat back on both sides, and perceives he has no weapon.) 'Tis a marvel that, in my haste, I have not forgotten my hands too. (Feeling in all his pockets.) Nothing, nothing.

ORSINA.

Ha! I understand, and can assist you. I have brought one. (Produces a dagger.) There! Take it, take it quickly, ere any one observes us. I have something else, too--poison--but that is for women, not for men. Take this (forcing the dagger upon him), take it.

ODOARDO.

I thank thee. Dear child, whosoever again asserts thou art a lunatic, he shall answer it to me.

ORSINA.

Conceal it, instantly. (Odoardo hides the dagger.) The opportunity for using it is denied to me. You will not fail to find one, and you will seize the first that comes, if you are a man. I am but a woman, yet I came hither resolute. We, old man, can trust each other, for we are both injured, and by the same seducer. Oh, if you knew how preposterously, how inexpressibly, how incomprehensibly, I have been injured by him, you would almost forget his conduct towards yourself. Do you know me? I am Orsina, the deluded, forsaken Orsina--perhaps forsaken only for your daughter. But how is she to blame? Soon she also will be forsaken; then another, another, and another. Ha! (As if in rapture) What a celestial thought! When all who have been victims of his arts shall form a band, and we shall be converted into MÆnads, into furies; what transport will it be to tear him piecemeal, limb from limb, to wallow through his entrails, and wrench from its seat the traitor's heart--that heart which he promised to bestow on each, and gave to none. Ha! that indeed will be a glorious revelry!

Scene VIII.

Claudia, Odoardo, Orsina.

Enter Claudia.

CLAUDIA (looks round, and as soon as she espies her husband, runs towards him.)

I was right. Our protector, our deliverer! Are you really here? Do I indeed behold you, Odoardo? From their whisper and their manner I knew it was the case. What shall I say to you, if you are still ignorant? What shall I say to you if you already know everything? But we are innocent. I am innocent. Your daughter is innocent. Innocent; wholly innocent.

ODOARDO (who, on seeing his wife, has endeavoured to compose himself).

'Tis well. Be calm, and answer me.--(To Orsina)--Not that I doubt your information, Madam. Is the Count dead?

CLAUDIA.

He is.

ODOARDO.

Is it true that the Prince spoke this morning to Emilia, at the church?

CLAUDIA.

It is; but if you knew how much she was alarmed--with what terror she rushed home.

ORSINA.

Now, was my information false?

ODOARDO (with a bitter laugh).

I would not that it were! For worlds I would not that it were!

ORSINA.

Am I a lunatic?

ODOARDO (wildly pacing the apartment).

Oh!--nor as yet am I.

CLAUDIA.

You commanded me to be calm, and I obeyed--My dear husband, may I--may I entreat----

ODOARDO.

What do you mean? Am I not calm? Who can be calmer than I? (Putting restraint upon himself.) Does Emilia know that Appiani is dead?

CLAUDIA.

She cannot know it, but I fear that she suspects it, because he does not appear.

ODOARDO.

And she weeps and sobs.

CLAUDIA.

No more. That is over, like her nature, which you know. She is the most timid, yet the most resolute of her sex; incapable of governing her first emotions, but upon the least reflection calm and prepared for all. She keeps the Prince at a distance--she speaks to him in a tone----Let us, dear Odoardo, depart immediately.

ODOARDO.

I came on horseback hither. What is to be done? You, Madam, will probably return to town?

ORSINA.

Immediately.

ODOARDO.

May I request you to take my wife with you.

ORSINA.

With pleasure.

ODOARDO.

Claudia, this is the Countess Orsina, a lady of sound sense, my friend and benefactress. Accompany her to town, and send our carriage hither instantly. Emilia must not return to Guastalla. She shall go with me.

CLAUDIA.

But--if only--I am unwilling to part from the child.

ODOARDO.

Is not her father here? I shall be admitted at last. Do not delay! Come, my lady. (Apart to her.) You shall hear from me.--Come, Claudia. (Exeunt.)