_Abellino_ (proud and earnest).—Rosabella, wilt thou forsake me? Wilt thou retract thy promise? Look, Rosabella, and be convinced: I, the bravo, and thy Flodoardo are the same.
He said, removing the patch from his eye, and passed a handkerchief over his face once or twice. In an instant his complexion was altered, his bushy eyebrows and straight black hair disappeared, his features were replaced in their natural symmetry, and lo! the handsome Florentine stood before the whole assembly, dressed in the habit of the bravo Abellino.
_Abellino_.—Mark me, Rosabella! Seven times over, and seven times again, will I change my appearance, even before your eyes, and that so artfully that, study me as you will, the transformation shall deceive you. But change as I may, of one thing be assured: I am the man whom you loved as Flodoardo.
The Doge gazed and listened without being able to recover from his confusion, but every now and then the words “Dreadful! dreadful!” escaped from his lips, and he wrung his hands in agony. Abellino approached Rosabella, and said in the tone of supplication: “Rosabella, wilt thou break thy promise? Am I no longer dear to thee?”
Rosabella was unable to answer; she stood like one changed to a statue, and fixed her motionless eyes on the bravo.
Abellino took her cold hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Rosabella,” said he, “art thou still mine?”
_Rosabella_.—Flodoardo, oh! that I had never loved, had never seen thee!
_Abellino_.—Rosabella wilt thou still be the bride of Flodoardo? wilt thou be “the Bravo’s Bride?”
Love struggled with abhorrence in Rosabella’s bosom, and painful was the contest.
_Abellino_.—Hear me, beloved one! It was for thee that I have discovered myself—that I have delivered myself into the hands of justice. For thee—oh, what would I not do for thee! Rosabella, I wait but to hear one syllable from your lips; speak but a decisive yes or no, and all is ended. Rosabella, dost thou love me still?
And still she answered not; but she threw upon him a look innocent and tender as ever beamed from the eye of an angel, and that look betrayed but too plainly that the miscreant was still master of her heart. She turned from him hastily, threw herself into Camilla’s arms, and exclaimed, “God forgive you, man, for torturing me so cruelly!”