'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!

_Regent_ (_turns, looks up, and falls on her face_).
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!