Mortadello

OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 63 Hell surges ; all its demons yell with triumph ; fell Swell their appalling choirs the unutterable spell ! Now, the last thrust—oh Jesus, bear me to thy side ! Thou, whom I trust, my bridegroom, am I not thy bride ? [MONICA falls in swoon upon the prie-Dieu. A moment’s silence. Then a sound of cracking wood— a door burst in—is heard ; the noise of fighting grows louder, and presently ORLANDO and five soldiers enter the Charnel, pursued by THE LORD GABRIELE and his sbirri. GABRIELE. Now, pay thy vices ! ORLANDO. [At the door, turning to fight.] Yellow dog ! GABRIELE. Black fiend ! ORLANDO. Beware, I say, that shore thine edge away. GABRIELE. You thresh the air ! ORLANDO. Thou vile distortion of God’s image, this may serve. GABRIELE. I smile. Now at him, sbirri. ORLANDO. By thy back’s crooked curve, I’ll carve thee like a capon GABRIELE. All these months of hate I starve to spit thee on my sword. ORLANDO. Now meet thy fate ! GABRIELE. Dog ! falls the last of thine beside thee now, Death calls, Death calls ! See rear their crests Hell’s adamantine walls. ORLANDO. I’ll send thee to announce me. GABRIELE. [Pointing to MONICA. Look ! thy whore’s gone first. Her end be all damnation. See ! the throat that cursed