_Venoni._ (_violently but firmly_) Tomorrow I will obey you; today I am still free! (_to Hortensia_) Answer, or-- (_turning suddenly to the marquis, while he releases Hortensia, who throws herself on a couch, and weeps_) You know it well, my father, she was inexorable! you, you pitied me; but your wife saw my anguish, and her eye was still dry, and her heart was still marble! she opposed your granting me permission to see Josepha; she even insisted on your resuming that permission; but I rushed from her presence-- I hastened to Messina-- to the Ursuline convent-- as I approached it, the death-bell tolled! the sound echoed to the very bottom of my soul, every stroke seemed to fall upon my heart! I trembled, my blood ran cold-- (_in a faltering voice_) “who is dead?” (_with a loud burst of agony_) She, she! your daughter; my betrothed! my brain whirled round and round-- I rushed into the chapel-- a bier-- a coffin-- it inclosed your daughter! my betrothed, my happiness, my life! I sprang towards it-- I extended my arms to clasp it, what followed I know not; I was at peace, I was happy, I had ceased to feel: but oh! the barbarians, they restored me to sense, and twas only to the sense of misery! (_he falls weeping upon the viceroy’s neck_) _Hor._ Every word he utters-- seems a dagger to my heart! _Pri._ (_aside_) Ah! how I repent! _Venoni._ (_recovering, and looking round_) Twas here-- in this very room-- that I have passed so many happy, happy hours? twas here that I received your sanction to our union; twas in yon alcove, that I endeavoured to transmit to canvas Josepha’s features-- features impressed upon my heart indelibly! love guided my pencil-- that portrait-- tis there! tis she! tis Josepha! (_he suddenly draws away the curtain, and discovers a picture of Josepha at full length-- the prior stands forward on the scene, his hands tremble with passion, and his countenance expresses extreme vexation and stifled rage-- on the picture’s being discovered, Hortensia springs forward, sinks on her knees, and extends her arms towards, it-- the marquis turns away from the picture, towards which his left hand points, while he hides his face on the viceroy’s bosom; the viceroy stands in an attitude of grief with his arms extended towards the picture; he and the marquis are rather behind the other persons-- Venoni stands before the picture, which is to the left of the audience, and gazes upon it with rapture_) _Hor._ My child! my child! _Mar._ My Josepha! _Pri._ (_aside_) Oh rage! _Hor._ I expire! (_Venoni on hearing Hortensia’s last exclamation, turns round, hastens to raise her from her kneeling attitude, places her on the couch, and throws himself at her feet_)