Contarino.--That is ever the way with old sinners when they have lost the power to sin any longer. Then they are ready enough to weep over their past life, and talk loudly about repentance and reformation. Now, for my own part, I am perfectly well satisfied with my wanderings from the common beaten paths of morality and prudence. They serve to convince me that I am not one of your every-day men, who sit cramped up in the chimney-corner, lifeless, phlegmatic, and shudder when they hear of any extraordinary occurrence. Nature evidently has intended me to be a libertine, and I am determined to fulfil my destination. Why, if spirits like ours were not produced every now and then, the world would absolutely go fast asleep, but we rouse it by deranging the old order of things, force mankind to quicken their snail's pace, furnish a million of idlers with riddles which they puzzle their brains about without being able to comprehend, infuse some hundreds of new ideas into the heads of the great multitude, and, in short, are as useful to the world as tempests are, which dissipate those exhalations with which Nature otherwise would poison herself.
Falieri.--Excellent sophistry, by my honour. Why, Contarino, ancient Rome has had an irreparable loss in not having numbered you among her orators. It is a pity, though, that there should be so little that's solid wrapped up in so many fine-sounding words. Now learn that while you, with this rare talent of eloquence, have been most unmercifully wearing out the patience of your good-natured hearers, Falieri has been in ACTION. The Cardinal Gonzaga is discontented with the government--Heaven knows what Andreas has done to make him so vehemently his enemy--but, in short, Gonzaga now belongs to our party.
Parozzi (with astonishment and delight).--Falieri, are you in your senses? The Cardinal Gonzaga--?
Falieri.--Is ours, and ours both body and soul. I confess I was first obliged to rhodomontade a good deal to him about our patriotism, our glorious designs, our love for *******, and so forth; in short, Gonzaga is a hypocrite, and therefore is Gonzaga the fitter for us.
Contarino (clasping Falieri's hand).--Bravo, my friend! Venice shall see a second edition of Catiline's conspiracy. Now, then, it is MY turn to speak, for I have not been idle since we parted. In truth, I have as yet CAUGHT nothing, but I have made myself master of an all-powerful net, with which I doubt not to capture the best half of Venice. You all know the Marchioness Olympia?
Parozzi.--Does not each of us keep a list of the handsomest women in the Republic, and can we have forgotten number one?
Falieri.--Olympia and Rosabella are the goddesses of Venice; our youths burn incense on no other altars.
Contarino.--Olympia is my own.
Falieri.--How?
Parozzi.--Olympia?
Contarino.--Why, how now? Why stare ye as had I prophesied to you that the skies were going to fall? I tell you Olympia's heart is mine, and that I possess her entire and most intimate confidence.
Our connection must remain a profound secret, but depend on it, whatever _I_ wish SHE wishes also; and you know she can make half the nobility in Venice dance to the sound of her pipe, let her play what tune she pleases.
Parozzi.--Contarino, you are our master.
Contarino.--And you had not the least suspicion how powerful an ally I was labouring to procure for you?
