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