Open the gate! A friend! for God's sake,
open!

BOURGOGNINO. It is Calcagno--heavens! What can this mean?

FIESCO. Open the gate, soldiers.

SCENE VII.

The former--CALCAGNO, out of breath.

CALCAGNO. All is lost! all is lost! Fly, every one that can!

BOURGOGNINO. What's lost? Have they flesh of brass? Are our swords
made of rushes?

FIESCO. Consider, Calcagno! An error now is fatal.

CALCAGNO. We are betrayed! Your Moor, Lavagna, is the rascal! I come
from the senate-house. He had an audience of the duke.

VERRINA (with a resolute tone, to the sentinels). Soldiers! let me rush
upon your halberts! I will not perish by the hangman's hands. (The
assembly show marks of confusion.)

FIESCO (with firmness). What are you about? 'Sdeath, Calcagno!
Friends, 'tis a false alarm. (To CALCAGNO, aside.) Woman that thou art
to tell these boys this tale. Thou, too, Verrina? and thou, Bourgognino?
Whither wouldst thou go?

BOURGOGNINO. Home--to kill my Bertha--and then return to fall with thee.

FIESCO (bursting into a loud laugh). Stay! stay! Is this the valor that
should punish tyrants? Well didst thou play thy part, Calcagno. Did
none of you perceive that this alarm was my contrivance? Speak,
Calcagno? Was it not my order that you should put these Romans to this
trial?

VERRINA. Well, if you can laugh I'll believe you--or never more think
you man.

FIESCO. Shame on you, men! to fail in such a boyish trial! Resume your
arms--you must fight like lions to atone for this disgrace. (Aside to
CALCAGNO.) Were you there yourself?

CALCAGNO (low). I made my way among the guards to hear, as was my
business, the watchword from the duke. As I was returning the Moor was
brought----

FIESCO (aloud). So the old man is gone to bed--we'll drum him out of his
feathers. (Low.) Did he talk long with the duke?

CALCAGNO (low). My sudden fright and your impending danger drove me away
in haste----

FIESCO (aloud). See how our countrymen still tremble.

CALCAGNO (aloud). You should have carried on the jest. (Low.) For
God's sake, friend, what will this artifice avail us?

FIESCO. 'Twill gain us time, and dissipate the first panic. (Aloud.)
Ho! bring wine here! (Low.) Did the duke turn pale? (Aloud.) Well,
brothers, let us drink success to this night's entertainment. (Low.)
Did the duke turn pale?

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

FIESCO (confuse