Temptation besets him on every side; for the armies of both Florence and Pisa are at his command. Husain and Domizia urge him on to revenge. Tiburzio entreats him to give to Pisa the head with which Florence will only decorate a gateway. Him he thanks and dismisses. To the others he prepares his answer. Alone for the last time; with eyes fixed on the setting sun—his “own orb” so much nearer to him in his Eastern home, and which will shine for him there no more—he drains a phial of poison: the one thing he has brought from his own land to help him in the possible adversity. Death was to be his refuge in defeat. He will die on his triumph-day instead.
They all gather round him once more: Puccio grateful and devoted; for he has seen that though discredited by Florence, Luria was still working for her success—Tiburzio, who returns from Florence, where he has tendered his submission to Luria’s arms, and borne his heartfelt testimony to Luria’s honour—Domizia, who has learned from Luria that there are nobler things than retaliation: and now entreats him to forego his vengeance against her city, as she foregoes her own—Braccio, repentant for the wrong done, and beseeching that Luria will not “punish Florence.” But they cannot avert the one punishment which that gentle spirit could inflict. He lies dead before them.
“IN A BALCONY” is a dramatic fragment, equivalent to the third or fourth act, of what might prove a tragedy or a drama, as the author designed. The personages are “Norbert” and “Constance,” a young man and woman; and the “Queen,” a woman of a certain age. Constance is a relation and protegee of the Queen—as we imagine, a poor one. She is loved by Norbert; and he has entered the Queen’s service, for the opportunity of wooing and winning her. His diplomatic exertions have been strenuous. They have secured to his royal mistress the possession of a double crown. The “Balcony” echoes with the sound of festivities which are intended to mark the event.
Constance returns Norbert’s affection. He thinks the moment come for pleading his and her cause with their sovereign. But Constance entreats him to temporize: either to defer the proposal for her hand, or to make it in so indirect a manner, that the Queen may only see in it a tribute to herself. He has allowed her to think that he served her for her own sake; she must not be undeceived too roughly. Her heart has starved amidst the show of devotion: its hunger must not be roused by the touch of a living love in which she has no part. A shock of this kind would be painful to her—dangerous to themselves.