FIESCO. Leonora! grant me one trifling favor. LEONORA. Everything, Fiesco--but indifference. FIESCO. Well, well (significantly). Till Genoa be two days older, inquire not! condemn me not! (Leads her politely to another apartment.) SCENE IV. FIESCO; the MOOR, entering hastily. FIESCO. Whence come you thus out of breath? MOOR. Quick, my lord! FIESCO. Has anything run into the net? MOOR. Read this letter. Am I really here? Methinks Genoa is become shorter by twelve streets, or else my legs have grown that much longer! You change color? Yes, yes--they play at cards for heads, and yours is the chief stake. How do you like it? FIESCO (throws the letter on the table with horror). Thou woolly-pated rascal! How camest thou by that letter? MOOR. Much in the same way as your grace will come by the republic. An express was sent with it towards Levanto. I smelt out the game; waylaid the fellow in a narrow pass, despatched the fox, and brought the poultry hither---- FIESCO. His blood be on thy head! As for the letter, 'tis not to be paid with gold. MOOR. Yet I will be content with silver for it--(seriously, and with a look of importance). Count of Lavagna! 'twas but the other day I sought your life. To-day (pointing to the letter) I have preserved it. Now I think his lordship and the scoundrel are even. My further service is an act of friendship--(presents another letter) number two! FIESCO (receives it with astonishment). Art thou mad? MOOR. Number two--(with an arrogant air--his arms akimbo) the lion has not acted foolishly in pardoning the mouse. Ah! 'twas a deed of policy. Who else could e'er have gnawed the net with which he was surrounded? Now, sir, how like you that? FIESCO. Fellow, how many devils hast thou in pay? MOOR. But one, sir, at your service; and he is in your grace's keeping. FIESCO. What! Doria's own signature! Whence dost thou bring this paper? MOOR. Fresh from the hands of my Diana. I went to her last night, tempted her with your charming words, and still more charming sequins. The last prevailed. She bade me call early in the morning. Lomellino had been there as you predicted, and paid the toll to his contraband heaven with this deposit. FIESCO (indignantly). Oh, these despicable woman-slaves! They would govern kingdoms, and cannot keep a secret from a harlot. By these papers I learn that Doria and his party have formed a plot to murder me, with eleven senators, and to place Gianettino on the throne. MOOR. Even so--and that upon the morning of the ducal election, the third of this month. FIESCO (vehemently). The night of our enterprise shall smother that morning in its very birth. Speed thee, Hassan. My affairs are ripe. Collect our fellows. We will take bloody lead of our adversaries. Be active, Hassan!