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.)