Something uncanny's in it all, if true.
Good Lord, the thought gives me a sudden swea.t,
That fairly makes my linen stick to me!
Ha-ha! It's excellent. But we'll find out Who this impostor was,
They disperse, look furtively for the stranger, and speak of the incident to others of the crowded company.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Now let us vision onward, till we sight Famed Milan s aisles of marble, sun-alight, And there behold, unhid, the Coronation-rite.
The confused tongues of the assembly waste away into distance, till they are heard but as the babblings of the sea from a high, cliff, the scene becoming small and indistinct therewith. This passes into silence, and the whole disappears.
MILAN. THE CATHEDRAL
The interior of the building on a sunny May day.
The walls, arches, and columns are draped in silk fringed with gold. A gilded throne stands in front of the High Altar. A closely packed assemblage, attired in every variety of rich fabric and fashion, waits in breathless expectation.
From a private corridor leading to a door in the aisle the EMOPRESS JOSEPHINE enters, in a shining costume, and diamonds that collect rainbow-colours from the sunlight piercing the clerestory wincLows.