[_LUCIA silent, face in hands._ _Woman_ He is no Venetian. By his liveries he must be a Prince at least, and a great one. Your dress, Signora! (_Arranges it._) He’s come to buy the Signor’s pictures! Your fortune’s made. Oh, happy day! _I_ will open the gate for him, so he will not know you have no servant. [_Exit._ _Paulo_ (_Grim._) I do not understand. (_Makes to fasten door, hesitates, then turns to LUCIA._) _You_ can explain this to me--Little Child--perhaps? _Lucia_ Paulo, Paulo, do not be angry. Oh, forgive me, I implore. For your dear sake--for your work, your art--for you, I did it. It is not _me_ he comes to see. It is your work, your picture. I went this very day--but an hour ago--to make him come. Oh, tell me, tell me I have not done wrong! (_OLD WOMAN opens door. Enter MEDICI._) _Paulo_ (_Aghast._) Damiano di Medici! Here! _Lucia_ (_Hand on his arm._) Paulo! Paulo! _Medici_ At your service, Signor Salviati. (_To LUCIA._) Signora bellissima! Am I too early still? My promise--you remember--I was impatient to fulfil it. _Paulo_ Promise! What can a Prince of the Medici promise to my wife? _Medici_ (_Gravely._) That which only the proudest painter may receive gladly from a humble prince: appreciation of his work. _Paulo_ (_Coldly._) My work is not done for the appreciation of princes. I have no work to show. _Medici_ Your wife, Signor, said otherwise. And she is a rare judge of values. (_Bows._) A faultless critic! (_Bows to her._) _Paulo_ The Prince di Medici knows. _Lucia_ (_To Paulo._) Oh, do not anger him. And think a little of _me_. You forget the risk--for your sake--that I ran--(_imploring_) your career---- _Paulo_ (_Watches her thoughtfully, weighing things that perplex him._) Love led you a strange errand. _Lucia_ For the work’s sake, my Paulo. _Medici_ The Medici have short memories for their failures. (_Laughs._) Her courage--in coming to visit me--was even more rare than her (_glances at the picture_)--her judgment. _Paulo_ (_With effort._) She went to see you--yes. It was a mistaken courage that earned you a favour of that kind. _Medici_ (_Suave._) Even in Venice a Medici does not receive strangers--without a name--or, shall I say, whose name is yet to win. Your wife, Signor, had the courage to get her way to me past half a hundred lacqueys. But more! She had the eloquence and wit to persuade my return visit--here. She assured me your picture was worthy of my personal, my immediate inspection. [_Goes to it. PAULO starts forward to prevent him._ _Lucia_ (_Catches his arm._) Paulo, beloved--by our love, by little Eros (_frantic_), by everything! [_MEDICI moves the picture into better light._ _Medici_ (_Watching them out of corner of his eye._) With your permission. (_Bows._) You will, perhaps, forgive the liberty. The light fails suddenly a little. So--(_examines critically, with signs of pleasure_). _Paulo_