e turn pale?

CALCAGNO. The Moor's first word must have been conspiracy; for the old
man started back as pale as ashes.

FIESCO (confused). Hum! the devil is an artful counsellor. Calcagno--
the Moor was cunning, he betrayed nothing till the knife was at his
throat. Now he is indeed their savior. (Wine is brought, he drinks to
the assembly.) Comrades, success! (A knocking is heard.)

SENTINELS. Who is without?

A VOICE. The guard of the duke's. (The NOBLES rush about the court in
despair.)

FIESCO (stepping forward). Oh, my friends! Be not alarmed! I am here--
quick, remove these arms--be men. I entreat you--this visit makes me
hope that Andreas still doubts our plot. Retire into the palace: recall
your spirits. Soldiers, throw open the gate! (They retire, the gates
are opened.)

SCENE VIII.

FIESCO (as if coming from the palace). Three GERMAN SOLDIERS
bringing the MOOR, bound.

FIESCO. Who calls me?

GERMANS. Bring us to the count!

FIESCO. The count is here, who wants me?

GERMAN (presenting his arms). Greeting from the duke!--he delivers up to
your grace this Moor in chains, who had basely slandered you: the rest
this note will tell.

FIESCO (takes it with an air of indifference). Have I not threatened
thee already with the galleys? (To the GERMAN.) Very well, my friend,
my respects to the duke.

MOOR (hallooing after them). Mine, too--and tell the duke had he not
employed an ass for his messenger he would have learned that two thousand
soldiers are concealed within these palace walls.

[Exeunt GERMANS, the NOBLES return.

SCENE IX.

FIESCO, the CONSPIRATORS, MOOR (looking at them unconcerned.)

THE CONSPIRATORS (shuddering at the sight of the MOOR). Ha! what means
this?

FIESCO (after reading the note with suppressed anger). Genoese, the
danger is past--but the conspiracy is likewise at an end----

VERRINA (astonished). What! Are the Dorias dead?

FIESCO (violently agitated). By heavens! I was prepared to encounter
the whole force of the republic, but not this blow. This old nerveless
man, with his pen, annihilates three thousand soldiers (his hands sink
down). Doria overcomes Fiesco!

BOURGOGNINO. Speak, count, we are amazed!

FIESCO (reading). "Lavagna, your fate resembles mine; benevolence is
rewarded with ingratitude. The Moor informs me of a plot: I send him
back to you in chains, and shall sleep to-night without a guard." (He
drops the paper--t