(_Stops painting._) Such painters and their patrons live for time, not for eternity, my Little Child. And among them the worst--the very worst--is that Florentine whose best claim to merit is that he dared to aspire to your love. _Lucia_ I hate and despise him. Yet I dread his help--for others. He is as great in influence almost as his elder brother, Cosimo. _Paulo_ Bah! _Lucia_ Forgive me, Paulo--I reproach myself often that we fled from him--from Florence--where he might--(_lower_) oh, he _could_ have done so much for you--his patronage. _Paulo_ (_Staring._) The mere name, as you see, stops me painting. You must not speak of it, here least of all in our place of work, of worship. Patronage--bah! My fire would go out, my inspiration leave me, my soul die in bondage. I must have (_loudly_) liberty. _Lucia_ (_Frightened._) The Madonna help me! Paulo, beloved, see what I have brought you--something your picture needs. My present and my surprise. No questions, now! [_Holds out richly-coloured silk._ _Paulo_ (_Delighted, amazed._) That very broidery we saw together! Lucia--Little Child! How did you pay for it, or--or did you steal it? The merchant asked ten lira, I remember--and we had but three. (_Examines it._) The colour of wine and pomegranate! Gorgeous! How did you pay for it? Quick, tell me. (_LUCIA turns her head from side to side._) The long gold earrings! Your last jewel! Lucia! (_Takes her in his arms._) I’ll kiss your ears (_softly_) till they leave blushes you cannot sell, fairer than any jewels, for they are the kisses of my soul which sees eternal beauty. _Lucia_ Would that I had a whole casket of both kinds, my Paulo! Of one kind I would sell all. You should have a studio with north light, the best paints that can be bought, the choicest hangings, the fairest models, and--and, oh, everything these others possess who have not risked all for Love and brought a wife from Florence---- (_Voice breaks and stops._) _Paulo_ Hush, hush, Little Child! You have given all you had--and that is everything. My art, if it is inspired as we dream, is stronger than circumstances, and will conquer. And I have liberty--love, beauty, liberty! What more can I ask of Heaven? Come, see the picture with me a moment. (_Draws her to it._) Let us look at it together. (_They stand before it._) _Lucia_ (_Low._) The Gods painted it. _Paulo_ (_Moved._) Your soul and mine, say rather. The hand is nothing. It is the inspiration. (_They look a moment._) It was conceived, at least, in liberty--(_Starts and looks at her._) You whispered something? I did not catch it. Tell me, Little Child. You feel--? Why, I declare, you tremble. _Lucia_ (_Very low._) One thing, I fear, one thing alone! The golden bloom, the warmth, the joyous laughter and the richness all Venetians love. It will be judged with the work of--of others whom plenty and comfort and--and all that help which money can provide---- _Paulo_