The multitude break away from Camilla—­veiled no more, but radiant; fresh as a star that issues through corrupting vapours, and with her voice at a starry pitch in its clear ascendency: 

       ’Tear up the insufferable scroll!—­
        O thou, my lover and my soul! 
        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. 
        Go, cool thy penitential fires,
        Thou creature, foul with base desires!’

          Camillo(facing Count Orso).

       ‘The choice is thine!’

          CountOrso (draws).

       ‘The choice is made!’

          Chorus(narrowing its circle).

       ’Familiar is that naked blade. 
        Of others, of himself, the fate
        How swift ‘tis Provocation’s mate!’

          Michiella(torn with jealous rage).

       ’Yea; I could smite her on the face. 
        Father, first read the thing’s disgrace. 
        I grudge them, honourable death. 
        Put poison in their latest breath!’

          Orso(his left arm extended).

       ’You twain are sundered:  hear with awe
        The judgement of the Source of Law.’

          Camilla(smiling confidently).

’Not such, when I was at the Source,
It said to me;—­but take thy course.’

Orso (astounded).

‘Thither thy steps were bent?’

Michiella (spurning verbal controversy).

                  ’She feigns! 
        A thousand swords are in my veins. 
        Friends! soldiers I strike them down, the pair!’

Camillo (on guard, clasping his wife).

’’Tis well!  I cry, to all we share. 
Yea, life or death, ’tis well! ‘tis well!’

Michiella (stamps her foot).

        ’My heart ‘s a vessel tossed on hell!’

          Leonardo(aside).

        ‘Not in glad nuptials ends the day.’

          Orso(to Camilla).

‘What is thy purpose with us?—­say!’

Camilla (lowly). 
’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.’