Scene III.

The Prince, Marinelli.

PRINCE.

Here she comes up the avenue. She flies before the servants. Fear gives wings to her feet. She must not suspect our design. She thinks she is escaping from robbers. How long will her mistake last?

MARINELLI.

At least we have her here.

PRINCE.

But will not her mother come in search of her? Will not the Count follow her? What can we do then? How can I keep her from them?

MARINELLI.

To all this I confess I can make no reply. But we must see. Compose yourself, Prince. This first step was, at all events, necessary.

PRINCE.

How so, if we are obliged to recede?

MARINELLI.

But perhaps we need not. There are a thousand things on which we may make further steps. Have you forgotten the chief one?

PRINCE.

How can I have forgotten that of which I never thought? What mean you by the chief one?

MARINELLI.

The art of pleasing and persuading--which in a prince who loves can never fail.

PRINCE.

Can never fail! True, except when it is most needed. I have already made a poor attempt in this art to-day. All my flattery, all my entreaties could not extract one word from her. Mute, trembling, and abashed, she stood before me like a criminal who fears the judge's fatal sentence. Her terror was infectious. I trembled also and concluded by imploring her forgiveness. Scarcely dare I speak to her again--and, at all events, I dare not be present when she arrives. You, Marinelli, must receive her. I will listen to your conversation, and join you when I am more collected.