_Regent._ Fie, Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe-- My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten! _Lucetta_ (_helpless, wringing her hands_). Madam! _Regent._ I need your strength, and must I steady you? Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper The rogueries your tongue invented then. I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. I'll have no priest, no doctor--Fetch Tonino! I must present his son-- [_Lucetta runs out._ All's acted quick: Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered? [_She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, all the Court, group themselves round her as the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives him with a low reverence._ Welcome my lord! _Duke._ Ottilia! _Regent._ Good my lord, Welcome! This day is bright restores you to Your loyal Duchy. Duke (_impatient_). Wife! Ottilia! _Regent_ (_she lifts a hand to keep him at distance_). There must be forms, my lord--some forms! Cesario, Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, When the gate closes on a town secure, So locks this rod back to his manly clutch-- Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!' _All._ Long live the Duke! _Duke._ Wife, make an end with forms! _Lucio_ (_to Cesario_). And so say I! A man would think my sister had no blood In her body. _Cesario_ (_watching the Regent_). Peace, man: something there's amiss. _Regent._ Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. His first-born!--Nay but look on him how straight Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance Even with his father. _Duke._ There's my blessing, boy! But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia-- Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, Your banners, _vivas_, bells that rock the roofs, Throng'd windows, craning faces--all--all--all Were phantasms, were noise.-- _Lucio_ (_exclaims_). Why look, here's blood! Here, on the boy's hand! _Regent._ Ay! a scratch, no worse, Here, when I pinned my robe. _Duke_ (_continuing_). Nay, friends, this moment My Duchy her dear hand restores to me To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, Where in a heap beneath a broken flag Lay Adria.-- So that amid the ruins stood my love And stretched her hands so faintly--stretched her hands So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them-- _Regent_ (_totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her_). Ah! [_She faints._