The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 106

LEONORA. This way the tumult rages--hark! was not that a dying groan?

Ah, they surround him! At Fiesco's breast they point their fatal muskets--at my breast they point them. Hold! hold! It is my husband!

(Throws her arms up in agony.)

ARABELLA. For heaven's sake, my lady!

LEONORA (with wild enthusiasm, calling on all sides). O my Fiesco! my Fiesco! His firmest friends desert him. The faith of rebels is unsteady (shuddering). Rebels! Heaven? Is Fiesco, then, a chief of rebels?

ARABELLA. No, signora. He is the great deliverer of Genoa.

LEONORA (emphatically). Ha! that would indeed be glorious! And shall Leonora tremble?--shall the bravest republican be wedded to the most timid woman? Go, Arabella! When men contend for empires even a woman's soul may kindle into valor. (Drums again heard.) I'll rush among the combatants.

ARABELLA (clasping her hands together). All gracious heaven!

LEONORA. Softly! What strikes my foot? Here is a hat--and here a mantle! A sword, too! (she lifts it up)--a heavy sword, my Arabella; but I can carry it, and the sword shall not disgrace its bearer. (The alarm-bell sounds.)

ARABELLA. Hark! hark! How terrible it sounds yonder, from the tower of the Dominicans! G.o.d have mercy on us!

LEONORA (enthusiastically). Rather say, how delightful! In the majestic sound of this alarm-bell my Fiesco speaks to Genoa. (Drums are heard louder.) Ha! did flutes so sweetly strike my ear. Even these drums are animated by Fiesco. My heart beats higher. All Genoa is roused; the very mercenaries follow his name with transport--and shall his wife be fearful? (Alarm-bells from three other towers.) No--my hero shall embrace a heroine. My Brutus clasp within his arms a Roman wife. I'll be his Portia. (Putting on GIANETTINO'S hat and throwing his scarlet mantle round her.)

ARABELLA. My gracious lady, how wildly do you rave. (Alarm-bells and drums are heard.)

LEONORA. Cold-blooded wretch; canst thou see and hear all this, and yet not rave? The very stones are ready to weep that they have not feet to run and join Fiesco. These palaces upbraid the builder, who had laid their foundations so firmly in the earth that they cannot fly to join Fiesco. The very sh.o.r.es, were they able, would forsake their office in order to follow his glorious banner, though by so doing they abandoned Genoa to the mercy of the ocean. What might shake death himself out of his leaden sleep has not power to rouse thy courage? Away! I'll find my way alone.

ARABELLA. Great G.o.d! You will not act thus madly?

LEONORA (with heroic haughtiness). Weak girl! I will. (With great animation.) Where the tumult rages the most fiercely. Where Fiesco himself leads on the combat. Methinks I hear them ask, "Is that Lavagna, the unconquered hero, who with his sword decides the fate of Genoa? Is that Lavagna?" Yes, I will say; yes, Genoese, that is Lavagna; and that Lavagna is my husband!

SACCO (entering with CONSPIRATORS). Who goes there--Doria or Fiesco?

LEONORA (with enthusiasm). Fiesco and liberty. (Retires into another street. A tumult, ARABELLA lost in the crowd.)

SCENE VI.

SACCO, with a number of followers. CALCAGNO, meeting him with others.

CALCAGNO. Andreas has escaped.

SACCO. Unwelcome tidings to Fiesco.

CALCAGNO. Those Germans fight like furies! They planted themselves around the old man like rocks. I could not even get a glimpse of him.

Nine of our men are done for; I myself was 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 pa.s.sage between Genoa and the sea--an anchovy could scarcely pa.s.s him.

SACCO. I'll rouse the suburbs----

CALCAGNO. I'll away to the market-place. Drummers, strike up! (They march off, drums beating.)

SCENE VII.

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 neighboring houses.)

SCENE VIII.

BOURGOGNINO--BERTHA, disguised as a boy.

BOURGOGNINO. Rest here, dear youth; thou art in safety. Dost thou bleed?

BERTHA (in a feigned voice). No; not at all.

BOURGOGNINO (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!

BOURGOGNINO. Art thou frightened, youth? Too early didst thou put on the man. What age hast thou?

BERTHA. Fifteen years.

BOURGOGNINO. That is unfortunate! For this night's business thou art five years too young. Who is thy father?

BERTHA. The truest citizen in Genoa.

BOURGOGNINO. Gently, boy! That name belongs alone to the father of my betrothed bride. Dost thou know the house of Verrina?

BERTHA. I should think so.

BOURGOGNINO (eagerly). And knowest thou his lovely daughter?

BERTHA. Her name is Bertha.

BOURGOGNINO. Go, quickly! Carry her this ring. Say it shall be our wedding-ring; and tell her the blue crest fights bravely. Now farewell!

I must hasten yonder. The danger is not yet over. (Some houses are seen on fire.)

BERTHA (in a soft voice). Scipio!