NINTH SCENE.
THE MARSHAL. THE PAINTER. THE MARQUISES (in the background).
The Marshal.
I thank you, sir! The mists are dissipated. The eye sees clearly once more; the will has a free hand.
The Painter.
But I was silently executed. Did you notice her look?
The Marshal (pointing at The Marquises).
Of looks, there are sufficient.
The Painter (snatching up his sword).
Oho! I am always expecting foul play.