Men who feed from their patron’s hands like obedient lap-dogs---- _Lucia_ Madonna, help me! They have never to calculate if their blue paint can last till the sky is finished. (_Impetuously._) Why, in Florence, the Medici gives his painters---- _Paulo_ That name again! _Lucia_ I chose it at random--by mistake. It slipped out, I mean. (_Losing control more._) Oh, my too proud Paulo, if you only knew how I love your pride and worship it. I only thought--for a moment only--the merest foolish moment--that this young Medici--oh, he loves beauty too, he worships art and beauty--_perhaps_--I wondered--he _might_ have helped in a way that even you could have accepted without losing your liberty. I reproach myself so---- _Paulo_ (_Sternly._) Lucia, I need no man’s help. I have told you. You doubt my art, my power, when you show this fear. It is fear that makes you reproach yourself. Our love knows no fear. (_Soothes her._) _Lucia_ It is, perhaps, myself I fear, Paulo. A strange dread haunts me like a dream. I fear lest I injure your great work, your mission---- _Paulo_ You tremble still. You are excited. Tell me, Little Child--do you know something that you hide from me--that you cannot tell me? [_Pause._ _Lucia_ Nothing, nothing, but my woman’s mood. My passion to help you is so great I sometimes fear lest I guide it wrongly--(_breaks off_). See, Paulo, the light is good, and we have this broidery you need (_replaces old drapery with the new silk piece_)--the very thing--exactly the tint and texture. I’ll sit for you. (_Shows hurry._) There is no time to lose. Some one might disturb us. _Paulo_ (_A look of suspicion comes and goes. He watches her puzzled, while mixing his paints._) Your mood is _new_. That is what disquiets me. You seem expectant almost. And this strange haste, Lucia? We never hurry! _Lucia_ (_Laughing gaily._) Only that I long to see this colour (_touches silk_) in your picture--on the very canvas, alive and burning--before it is seen by--by others. _Paulo_ (_Absorbed._) Yet who should see it before the Competition Day? _Lucia_ Of course, of course. Still I am anxious. Time is precious. (_Poses._) Oh, how lovely the silk lies on me! Look! And am _I_ right? (_Whispers._) Paulo, I feel your brushes on my heart. Paint swiftly, beloved, swiftly. _Paulo_ Beautiful! Perfect! Divine! There--just as you are now. Don’t move! Even your heart must stop! _Lucia_ Madonna, help me! _Paulo_ She does. Have no fear for the result. (_Paints hard._) Now, talk to me while I work--no movement, mind! Just words. I love the music of your voice. It soothes and blesses me. The gossip of the market-place, for instance? _Lucia_ (_Quickly._) Ah, well, then the Eros will interest you--the one we coveted so.… It’s gone from the merchant’s booth at last. _Paulo_