On the other hand, Irma fell into all his traps, and painted her Austrian heart with a prodigal waste of colour and frank energy: 

’Now Leonardo is my tool: 
Camilla is my slave: 
And she I hate goes forth to cool
Her rage beyond the wave. 
Joy! joy! 
Paid am I in full coin for my caressing;
I take, but give nought, ere the priestly blessing.’

A subtle distinction.  She insists upon her reverence for the priestly (papistical) blessing, while she confides her determination to have it dispensed with in Camilla’s case.  Irma’s known sympathies with the Austrian uniform seasoned the ludicrousness of many of the double-edged verses which she sang or declaimed in recitative.  The irony of applauding her vehemently was irresistible.

Camilla is charged with conspiracy, and proved guilty by her own admission.

The Act ends with the entry of Count Orso and his force; conspirators overawed; Camilla repudiated; Count Orso imperially just; Leonardo chagrined; Camillo pardoned; Michiella triumphant.  Camillo sacrifices his wife for safety.  He holds her estates; and therefore Count Orso, whose respect for law causes him to have a keen eye for matrimonial alliances, is now paternally willing, and even anxious to bestow Michiella upon him when the Pontifical divorce can be obtained; so that the long-coveted fruitful acres may be in the family.  The chorus sings a song of praise to Hymen, the ‘builder of great Houses.’  Camilla goes forth into exile.  The word was not spoken, but the mention of ’bread of strangers, strange faces, cold climes,’ said sufficient.

’It is a question whether we ought to sit still and see a firebrand flashed in our faces,’ General Pierson remarked as the curtain fell.  He was talking to Major de Pyrmont outside the Duchess of Graatli’s box.  Two General officers joined them, and presently Count Serabiglione, with his courtly semi-ironical smile, on whom they straightway turned their backs.  The insult was happily unseen, and the count caressed his shaven chin and smiled himself onward.  The point for the officers to decide was, whether they dared offend an enthusiastic house—­the fiery core of the population of Milan—­by putting a stop to the opera before worse should come.

Their own views were entirely military; but they were paralyzed by the recent pseudo-liberalistic despatches from Vienna; and agreed, with some malice in their shrugs, that the odium might as well be left on the shoulders of the bureau which had examined the libretto.  In fact, they saw that there would be rank peril in attempting to arrest the course of things within the walls of the house.

‘The temper this people is changeing oddly,’ said General Pierson.  Major de Pyrmont listened awhile to what they had to say, and returned to the duchess.  Amalia wrote these lines to Laura:—­’If she sings that song she is to be seized on the wings of the stage.  I order my carriage to be in readiness to take her whither she should have gone last night.  Do you contrive only her escape from the house.  Georges de P. will aid you.  I adore the naughty rebel!’