_Mi._ Tis the same! how fortunate!-- worthy old man-- _Ben._ Is it you, father? why, you were out, when his excellence went this evening to-- _Mi._ I was at home-- but the prior’s suspicions-- I was a prisoner; and-- but this is no time for explanation-- lead me to your lord! away. _Ben._ Impossible, father! all the grandees of Messina-- a banquet, a ball-- dont you hear the music? but doubtless tomorrow-- _Mi._ Tomorrow will be too late! alas! perhaps it is too late already! perhaps at this very moment Venoni is no more! _Ben._ No more. Venoni? follow me, father, follow me this instant-- stay, stay! as I live, here comes his excellence himself. Enter the _Viceroy_ and _Hortensia_. _Vice._ Nay, dear Hortensia-- how now? what would you, father? _Mi._ Pardon my intrusion, noble sir, but my business will not brook delay-- I am that friar whose letter this morning-- _Vice._ Father Michael? speak! come you from Venoni? _Mi._ He is in danger-- perhaps is already no more! oh, speed for his aid! rescue him, if possible; if too late, avenge him! if he still lives, I suspect the place of his confinement, and can guide you thither: if this bloody deed is already accomplished, at least let us punish the crimes of his assassin, the monster Cœlestino! _Vice._ His assassin! _Hor._ Cœlestino? stay, brother, stay! will you on the word of an unknown believe that a man whose whole course of life has been so pure, so pious-- _Mi._ Nay, lady, for heaven’s love delay us not; these moments are precious, are dreadful! these moments decide the life or death of a human being-- come, come, my lord! let the prior be seized; terror will doubtless compel him to confess my charge! secure, too, the abbess of the Ursulines; she can confirm my story; she well knows that the prior’s licentious love for your niece, for the murdered Josepha-- _Hor._ Murdered? my child? _Vice._ Horror crowds on horror! within there! my servants! my guards! away to the monastery; if there denied admittance, we’ll force the gates!-- Venoni, thou shalt be preserved, or avenged most dreadfully. On, on, good friar! away! [Exeunt. _Hor._ (_alone_) Can it be? Cœlestino-- the abbess-- he, whom I ever thought so holy-- she, in whom I reposed such fatal confidence?-- distracting doubts, I must be satisfied;-- yes! I’ll hasten to the Ursulines; I’ll interrogate the abbess myself! I’ll question-- I’ll threaten; and if I find her guilty-- oh! then if her heart possesses but one feeling fibre, it will surely writhe with agony, when she hears the groans, when she sees the anguish of a despairing, of a childless mother! [Exit. SCENE III-- _An apartment in the Ursuline convent decorated for a festival-- the back part is filled up by a dark-coloured curtain-- night._ The _prior_ enters preceded by a friar with a torch, and followed by _Veronica_. _Ve._ Yet hear me, Cœlestino!