Have you forgotten what the Prince himself commanded?
Let him come, and repeat his commands. I shall expect him.
I am obliged to leave you, Colonel, with a lady whose intellect--you understand me, I mention this that you may know in what way to treat her remarks, which are sometimes singular. It were better not to enter into conversation with her.
ORSINA (_after a pause, during which she has surveyed_ Odoardo _with a look of compassion, while he has cast towards her a glance of curiosity_).
Alas! What did he say to you, unfortunate man?
Truth it certainly was not--at least, not one of those sad truths which await you.
Which await me? Do I, then, not know enough? Madam--but proceed, proceed.
Worthy father! What would I give that you were my father! Pardon me. The unfortunate so willingly associate together. I would faithfully share your sorrows--and your anger.
Sorrows and anger? Madam--but I forget--go on.
Should she even be your only daughter--your only child--but it matters not. An unfortunate child is ever an only one.
Unfortunate?--Madam! But why do I attend to her? And yet, by Heaven, no lunatic speaks thus.
Lunatic? That, then, was the secret which he told you of me. Well, well. It is perhaps not one of his greatest falsehoods. I feel that I am something like one; and believe me, sir, they who, under certain circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.
Treat me not with contempt, old man. You possess strong sense. I know it by your resolute and reverend mien. You also possess sound judgment, yet I need but speak one word, and both these qualities are fled for ever.
Oh, Madam, they will have fled before you speak that word, unless you pronounce it soon. Speak, I conjure you; or it is not true that you are one of that good class of lunatics who claim our pity and respect; you are naught else than a common fool. You cannot have what you never possessed.
Mark my words, then. What do you know, who fancy that you know enough? That Appiani is wounded? Wounded only? He is dead.
Dead? Dead? Woman, you abide not by your promise. You said you would rob me of my reason, but you break my heart.
Thus much by the way. Now, let me proceed. The bridegroom is dead, and the bride, your daughter, worse than dead.