has died an old man in his bed, amid the benedictions of his children.
Leonardo enters.
Imperia. Leonardo! How could you be so long?
Leonardo. I but this moment received your note. Ah! Harry! What are you doing here?
Harry Lucenti. I? Imperia will tell you. A sad office, which leaves nothing for me to do—but to think. Silence!
He disappears.
Imperia. Leonardo, I don't know what you have thought since we drifted apart, what your impressions of me may have been. I only know that in the decisive moments of my life, when my heart turns instinctively toward that which is true, I have thought of you as a loyal and faithful friend. Am I wrong?
Leonardo. No, Imperia. We parted without ill feeling. You were in love with life, you wanted to realize my vision—the ideal of my statue; I, to retire from the world, to find solace in meditation and dreams. The wall of facts came between us. Why do you send for me now?
Imperia. To destroy the facts which threaten to close in upon our lives. Your ideal, your vision, the throne of your Imperia—ah, how near it is! It is not inherited, no, the poor inherit no thrones, but we have the power to overthrow them and to reign by right of intelligence without being kings. Do you remember? I told you I was going to Suavia to be Empress? Well, I am not Empress, but I reign in an Emperor's heart—he is mine, I know it; I hold him in the hollow of my hand. He cannot live without me. What do you say now? I am your Imperia, your statue; your spirit breathes in me. I am the realization of your dream.
Leonardo. Yes, my Imperia—my love! My first, my
