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Leonardo at one wing watches the eagerness of Michiella. The chorus chants to a muted measure of suspense, while Camillo dips pen in ink. 'She is away from me: she scorns me: she is lost to me. Life without honour is the life of swine. Union without love is the yoke of savage beasts. O me miserable! Can the heavens themselves plumb the depth of my degradation?
They exchange the silver keys, which express absolute intimacy, and give mutual freedom of access. Camillo can now secrete his followers in the castle; Michiella can enter Camilla's blue-room, and ravage her caskets for treasonable correspondence. Artfully she bids him reflect on what she is forfeiting for him; and so helps him to put aside the thought of that which he also may be imperilling.
'Count Orso' Austria; 'Michiella' is Austria's spirit of intrigue; 'Camillo' is indolent Italy, amorous Italy, Italy aimless; 'Camilla' is YOUNG ITALY! Their eagerness for sight of Vittoria was now red-hot, and when Camillo exclaimed 'She comes! many rose from their seats.
She cannot afford to lose him. She pleads for him; and, as Camilla is silent on his account, the cynical magnanimity of Camillo is predisposed to spare a fangless snake. Michiella withdraws him from the naked sword to the back of the stage. The terrible repudiation scene ensues, in which Camillo casts off his wife.
Between Camillo and Michiella a scene of some vivacity ensued reproaches, threats of calamity, offers of returning endearment upon her part; a display of courtly scorn upon his. Irma made her voice claw at her quondam lover very finely; it was a voice with claws, that entered the hearing sharp-edged, and left it plucking at its repose.
Camilla persuades Orso to discard Michiella. The infatuated count waxes as the personification of portentous burlesque; he is having everything his own way. The acting throughout owing to the real gravity of the vast basso Lebruno's burlesque, and Vittoria's archness was that of high comedy with a lurid background. Vittoria showed an enchanting spirit of humour.
He knows that not only was his jealousy of his wife groundless, but it was forced by a spleenful pride. What is there to do? Nothing, save resignedly to prepare for his divorce from the conspiratrix Camilla and espousals with Michiella. The cup is bitter, and his song is mournful. He does the rarest thing a man will do in such a predicament he acknowledges that he is going to get his deserts.
Between Camillo and Michiella a scene of some vivacity ensued reproaches, threats of calamity, offers of returning endearment upon her part; a display of courtly scorn upon his. Irma made her voice claw at her quondam lover very finely; it was a voice with claws, that entered the hearing sharp-edged, and left it plucking at its repose.
It is the Sword that reunites; The Pen that our perdition writes. She is folded in her husband's arms. Michiella fronts them, horrid of aspect: 'Accurst divorced one! dost thou dare To lie in shameless fondness there? Abandoned! on thy lying brow Thy name shall be imprinted now. Camilla parts from her husband's embrace: 'My name is one I do not fear; 'Tis one that thou wouldst shrink to hear.
'Not in glad nuptials ends the day. 'What is thy purpose with us? say! 'Unto my Father I have crossed For tidings of my Mother lost. ORSO. 'Thy mother dead! CAMILLA. 'She lives! MICHIELLA. 'Thou liest! The tablets of the tomb defiest! The Fates denounce, the Furies chase The wretch who lies in Reason's face. CAMILLA. 'Fly, then; for we are match'd to try Which is the idiot, thou or I'
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