Oh, guard your tongue at least! The Prince is patient with us. _Medici_ (_Softly._) You robbed me once of beauty I desired. You fled from Florence. I accepted with a smile, and did not bestir myself to follow and prevent--as I could well have done. I was too kind, perhaps---- _Lucia_ (_Breaks in._) But, great Prince, you--you have forgotten all that. You swore---- _Medici_ (_To her._) The sight of beauty stirs my memory again. (_Suggestively._) For beauty grows, it seems. (_Smiles admiringly._) [_He moves a little towards her. PAULO, with clenched hands, is held back by LUCIA._ _Lucia_ (_To MEDICI._) My Lord! (_To PAULO._) Oh, Paulo, hold yourself! Am I so little to you? _Medici_ And this increase of beauty makes me remember something I had--(_to LUCIA_) as you say--forgotten. To see him who robbed me become my dependant--would have the true Grecian touch of comedy. (_Turns abruptly to PAULO with changed tone._) Salviati--before the light fails, will you now dip your brush in the gold and scarlet _we_ suggested? _Paulo_ Never! Even in fading light I see only truth. _Lucia_ Ah! Oh! _Medici_ (_Looking from one to the other, then to the picture._) There are many flowers in my gardens, but Italy holds one Salviati only. (_Reflects._) My ceilings need him. I swore, besides, to Cosimo---- _Lucia_ (_Distraught._) My Lord, my Lord, you promised----! _Medici_ (_Brusquely._) That I would see the work and offer my patronage--if it pleased me. That offer still holds good. But your husband is obstinate---- _Paulo_ I am true. I claim only liberty. _Medici_ (_Darkly._) So I must remember my duties as a patron--and apply remedies that may save his unreason--and his--art. _Lucia_ (_Alarmed._) What can you mean----? [_MEDICI claps his hands._ _Medici_ Ho! Ho! Without there! (_Four MEN in livery rush in._) Take the woman, but do not hurt her. [_MEN seize her._ _Lucia_ (_Struggling._) Ah, Dios! Madonna, help me! Alive--never! Paulo! Paulo! _Paulo_ (_Tries to fight his way to her._) Never while I live either. [_Draws a dagger._ _Medici_ (_To MEN._) Disarm him--gently, gently. No injury. Who bruises that right hand of his answers with his life, remember! Strike up the dagger instantly. _Men_ (_Struggling._) For a painter he fights well. Careful there! His hand--your sword’s point! His right hand, yes. Be wary. This is rare sport. Have you got the arm? Hold fast. I’ve got the dagger. He’s safe, my Lord. [_They hold him, disarmed._ _Lucia_ (_Held._) Paulo, my Paulo! (_Moans._) Oh, that I were dead, to have done this thing! _Paulo_ (_Firmly._) My soul stands by yours. I know you true. Fear nothing! _Medici_