I have felt it, I fear neither torture nor pleasure. Come! Genoa, you
say, awaits me--I will give to Genoa a prince more truly great than
Europe ever saw. Away!--for this unhappy princess I will prepare a
funeral so splendid that life shall lose its charms, and cold corruption
glitter like a bride. Follow your duke!

[Exeunt, with music and colors.

SCENE XIV.

ANDREAS, LOMELLINO.

ANDREAS. Yonder they go, with shouts of exultation.

LOMELLINO. They are intoxicated with success. The gates are deserted
and all are hastening toward the senate-house.

ANDREAS. It was my nephew only whom Genoa could not brook. My nephew is
no more. Hear, Lomellino!

LOMELLINO. What, duke--still--do you still hope?

ANDREAS (sternly). And dost thou tremble for my life, and mock me with
the name of duke the while thou wouldst forbid me hope.

LOMELLINO. My gracious lord, a raging nation lies in Fiesco's scale;
what counterpoise in yours?

ANDREAS (with dignity and animation). Heaven!

LOMELLINO (shrugging up his shoulders). The times are past, my lord,
when armies fought under the guidance of celestial leaders. Since
gunpowder was invented angels have ceased to fight.

ANDREAS. Wretch that thou art! Wouldst thou bereave an aged head of its
support, its God. (In an earnest and commanding tone.) Go! Make it
known throughout Genoa that Andreas Doria is still alive. Say that
Andreas entreats the citizens, his children, not to drive him, in his old
age, to dwell with foreigners, who ne'er would pardon the exalted state
to which he raised his country. Say this--and further say, Andreas begs
but so much ground within his fatherland as may contain his bones.

LOMELLINO. I obey; but I despair of success. (Going.)

ANDREAS. Stay; take with thee this snowy lock, and say it was the last
upon my head. Say that I plucked it on that night when ungrateful Genoa
tore itself from my heart. For fourscore years it hung upon my temples,
and now has left my bald head, chilled with the winter of age. The lock
is weak, but 'twill suffice to fasten the purple on that young usurper.

[Exit--LOMELLINO hastens into another street--Shouts are heard,
with trumpets and drums.

SCENE XV.

VERRINA (coming from the harbor), BERTHA, and BOURGOGNINO.

VERRINA. What mean these shouts?

BOURGOGNINO. They proclaim Fiesco duke.

BERTHA (to BOURGOGNINO, timidly). Scipio! My father's looks are
dreadful----

VERRINA