'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,.. [The shouts of acclamation are heard now close under the terrace. Spears and banners are seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. Then, running to the Chapel door, she prostrates herself before the image of the Virgin that crowns its archway.] O Mary, Mother! Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved, All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore! Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me: My bridegroom cometh! [During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans over the Regent and stabs her twice in the breast.] Fulvia. Then with that!—and that! Go meet him! Go meet him! Regent (turns, looks up, and falls on her face). Oh! I am slain! Oh! I am slain! Fulvia. And I am worse! But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.— Go, meet your lord and show it! But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.— Go, meet your lord and show it! [She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.] Lucetta. Madam! Madam! The Duke is at the gate—Madam!— Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder! The Duke is at the gate—Madam!— Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder! Regent. Fie, Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe— My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten!
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