Hall in Manuel’s house. Enter PALICIO in woman’s clothes, bleeding, a dagger in his hand.
PALICIO.
No one, no sound. Can I hide here I am safe.
I have given the curs the slip, if I can hide.
Safe ... But this wound, the blood runs like a river:
Unless they track me by it I am clear—so far.
A paltry stab. I’ll bind it round and tie it
To stop the blood—so, so. Now, where to hide?
For here is no protection; ’tis the house
Of the chief justiciary ... a doubtful ’scape