(_Back turned._) For your sake, Little Child, I endure this cruelty. _Lucia_ I yearned to help---- _Paulo_ So it was he who bought the Eros too? (_To himself._) This is an evil omen. (_To her._) I thought us safe in Venice. _Lucia_ You are so calm, so quiet. You terrify. I would fear your anger less. Oh, my great Paulo, my dear, listen to me one moment. This family--this man--vile though he be--loves art and beauty, and in so far is not--Oh, I mean--oh, Paulo, it is his ceilings, his palace, his help to your career that have betrayed me! You could bring Greece to life in Venice--and for ever. Think not of him. Think only of your beauty--lighting the world when he is dust---- _Paulo_ (_Quietly._) Is my art so poor a thing--have you so misunderstood it--that you think it is for sale? _Lucia_ (_Distraught._) Have I done _that_! [_MEDICI turns from the picture to PAULO._ _Medici_ (_With reverence._) You have been taught of the Gods--the Gods of Greece. _Paulo_ (_Frigidly._) Your praise---- _Lucia_ Hush, oh, I beg you--for _my_ sake. _Medici_ The drawing is the equal of del Sarto’s and the composition no poorer than da Vinci’s. I swear it. Yet--the colour--hmm--I miss Titian’s glory. Those shadows (_pointing_) are out of tone a little---- _Lucia_ (_Quickly._) We ran out of blue that day, alas---- _Medici_ Your model was, certainly, perfect. But why have you painted the nymphs from her as well as their divine mistress? _Lucia_ Models demand impossible prices---- [_PAULO puts his hand on her mouth angrily._ _Medici_ (_Reflecting._) So little more, and it were a masterpiece. Even now it should win the Competition, by rights. Yet Vernio’s is just a shade more rich, more splendid. I have seen it. And Gagliano has a purer colour. But then, of course, Gagliano buys his paint from that fellow by the Zucca who has a secret method--and charges accordingly, the scoundrel! _Paulo_ (_Unable to contain himself longer._) I paint as I desire, and as I can. The picture is mine. And not for sale! _Medici_ (_Kindly._) I admire your spirit, Signor. It has the independence of ancient Greece herself. Yet at what price? You may be satisfied with yourself, but your art thereby suffers. It becomes a slave of your conditions--if you will allow the language. _Lucia_ Oh, it must be so! Paulo, it must be so! You see? _Paulo_ (_Proudly._) Conditions that leave the spirit free, at least. The spirit of beauty owns no master---- _Medici_