nceal yourself behind the tapestry--what can the
count intend?

LEONORA. He directs and I obey. Why should I fear? And yet I tremble,
Arabella, and my heart beats fearfully with apprehension. For heaven's
sake, damsels, do not leave me.

ARABELLA. Fear nothing; our timidity subdues our curiosity.

LEONORA. Where'er I turn my eyes strange shapes appear with hollow and
distracted countenances. Whomsoever I address trembles like a criminal,
and withdraws into the thickest gloom of night, that fearful refuge of a
guilty conscience. Whate'er they answer falls from the trembling tongue
in doubtful accents. Oh, Fiesco! what horrid business dost thou
meditate? Ye heavenly powers! watch over my Fiesco!

ROSA (alarmed). Oh, heavens! what noise is that without?

ARABELLA. It is the soldier who stands there as sentinel. (The SENTINEL
without calls, "Who goes there?")

LEONORA. Some one approaches. Quick! behind the curtain. (They conceal
themselves.)

SCENE XII.

JULIA and FIESCO, in conversation.

JULIA (much agitated). Forbear, count! Your passion meets no longer an
indifferent ear, but fires the raging blood--where am I? Naught but
seducing night is here! Whither has your artful tongue lured my
unguarded heart?

FIESCO. To this spot where timid love grows bold, and where emotions
mingle unrestrained.

JULIA. Hold, Fiesco! For Heaven's sake no more! 'Tis the thick veil of
night alone which covers the burning blushes on my cheeks, else wouldst
thou pity me.

FIESCO. Rather, Julia, thy blushes would inflame my passions, and urge
them to their utmost height. (Kisses her hand eagerly.)

JULIA. Thy countenance is glowing as thy words! Ah! and my own, too,
burns with guilty fire. Hence, I entreat thee, hence--let us seek the
light! The tempting darkness might lead astray the excited senses, and
in the absence of the modest day might stir them to rebellion. Haste, I
conjure thee, leave this solitude!

FIESCO (more pressing). Why so alarmed, my love? Shall the mistress
fear her slave?

JULIA. O man, eternal paradox! then are you truly conquerors, when you
bow as captives before our self-conceit. Shall I confess, Fiesco? It
was my vice alone that could protect my virtue--my pride alone defied
your artifices--thus far, my principles prevailed, and all your arts were
foiled--but in despair of every other suit you made appeal to Julia's
passion--and here my principles deserted me----

FIESCO (with levity). And wh