Yet you would like to make his acquaintance?
The Painter.
That I don't know.
The Marquis in Pink.
(Softly to The Marquis in Pale Blue.) How the coward betrays himself!
The Painter.
Too often I have heard his name spoken in wonder, here with disfavour, there with enthusiasm, yet always as if a miracle was happening to me, too often for me not to view with apprehension the nearness of this powerful man.
The Marquis in Pink.
What did I say? He is afraid.
The Marquis in Pale Blue.