At that moment the door was suddenly thrown open. The Doge Andreas
re-entered the apartment: the expected stranger had been suddenly
taken ill, and Andreas was no sooner at liberty than he hastened to
rejoin his favourite. The rustling of his garments roused the
lovers from their dream of bliss. Rosabella started from
Flodoardo's embrace with a cry of terror; Flodoardo quitted his
kneeling posture, yet seemed by no means disconcerted at the
discovery.
Andreas gazed upon them for some minutes, with a look which
expressed at once anger, melancholy, and the most heartfelt
disappointment. He sighed deeply, cast his eyes towards heaven, and
in silence turned to leave the apartment.
"Stay yet one moment, noble Andreas," cried the Florentine.
The Doge turned, and Flodoardo threw himself at his feet. Andreas
looked down with calm and serious dignity on the kneeling offender,
by whom his friendship had been so unworthily rewarded, and by whom
his confidence had been so cruelly betrayed.
"Young man," said he, in a stern voice, "the attempt to excuse
yourself must be fruitless."
"Excuse myself!" interrupted Flodoardo, boldly; "no, my lord, I need
no excuses for loving Rosabella; 'twere for him to excuse himself
who had seen Rosabella and NOT loved her; yet, if it is indeed a
crime in me that I adore Rosabella, 'tis a crime of which Heaven
itself will absolve me, since it formed Rosabella so worthy to be
adored."
"You seem to lay too much stress on this fantastic apology,"
answered the Doge, contemptuously; "at least you cannot expect that
it should have much weight with me.
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