nnihilate the faculties of man. You know the fabled power of Medusa's
head--they who but looked on it were turned to stone. What may not be
done, my boy, before stories are warmed to animation?

LOMELLINO. Have you given the countess any intimation of it?

GIANETTINO. That would never do! We must deal more cautiously with her
attachment to FIESCO. When she shares the sweets, the cost will soon be
forgotten. Come, I expect troops this evening from Milan, and must give
orders at the gates for their reception. (To JULIA.) Well, sister, have
you almost thrummed away your anger?

JULIA. Go! You're a rude unmannered creature. (GIANETTINO, going,
meets FIESCO.)

SCENE X.

The former; FIESCO.

GIANETTINO (stepping back). Ha!

FIESCO (with politeness). Prince, you spare me a visit which I was just
now about to pay.

GIANETTINO. And I, too, count, am pleased to meet you here.

FIESCO (approaching JULIA courteously). Your charms, signora, always
surpass expectation.

JULIA. Fie! that in another would sound ambiguous--but I'm shocked at my
dishabille--excuse me, count--(going).

FIESCO. Stay, my beauteous lady. Woman's beauty is ne'er so charming as
when in the toilet's simplest garb (laughingly). An undress is her
surest robe of conquest. Permit me to loosen these tresses----

JULIA. Oh, how ready are you men to cause confusion!

FIESCO (with a smile to GIANETTINO). In dress, as in the state--is it
not so? (To JULIA.) This ribbon, too, is awkwardly put on. Sit down,
fair countess--your Laura's skill may strike the eye, but cannot reach
the heart. Let me play the chambermaid for once. (She sits down, he
arranges her dress.)

GIANETTINO (aside to LOMELLINO). Poor frivolous fellow!

FIESCO (engaged about her bosom). Now see--this I prudently conceal.
The senses should always be blind messengers, and not know the secret
compact between nature and fancy.

JULIA. That is trifling.

FIESCO. Not at all; for, consider, the prettiest novelty loses all its
zest when once become familiar. Our senses are but the rabble of our
inward republic. The noble live by them, but elevate themselves above
their low, degenerate tastes. (Having adjusted her toilet, he leads her
to a glass.) Now, by my honor! this must on the morrow be Genoa's
fashion--(politely)--may I have the honor of leading you so abroad,
countess?

JULIA. The cunning flatterer! How artfully he lays his plans to ensnare
me. No! I have a headache, and will