Falieri.--Well, then, I know one thing more about him; Parozzi is
jealous of him.
Parozzi.--I? Ridiculous, Rosabella may bestow her hand on the
German Emperor, or a Venetian gondolier, without its giving me the
least anxiety.
Falieri.--Ha! ha! ha!
Memmo.--Well, one thing at least even envy must confess; Flodoardo
is the handsomest man in Venice. I doubt whether there's a woman in
the city who can resist him.
Parozzi.--And I should doubt it too, if women had as little sense as
you have, and looked only at the shell without minding the kernel -
Memmo.--Which unluckily is exactly the thing which women always do -
Falieri.--The old Lomellino seems to be extremely intimate with this
Flodoardo. They say he was well acquainted with his father.
Memmo.--It was he who presented him to the Doge.
Parozzi.--Hark!--Surely some one knocked at the palace door?
Memmo.--It can be none but Contarino. Now, then, we shall hear
whether he has discovered the banditti.
Falieri (starting from his chair).--I'll swear to that footstep,
it's Contarino.
The doors were thrown open. Contarino entered hastily, enveloped in
his cloak.
"Good evening, sweet gentlemen," said he, and threw his mantle
aside. And Memmo, Parozzi, and Falieri started back in horror.
"Good God!" they exclaimed, "what has happened? You are covered
with blood?"
"A trifle!" cried Contarino; "is that wine? quick, give me a goblet
of it, I expire with thirst.
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