Even the lieutenant,
ordinarily incapable of observation, and just now lost in the
tumult of his wrath, can see a thing when it is painted red for
him. Interpreting the blush as the involuntary confession of
black deceit confronted with its victim, he points to it with a
loud crow of retributive triumph, and then, seizing her by the
wrist, pulls her past him into the room as he claps the door to,
and plants himself with his back to it.)
LIEUTENANT. So I've got you, my lad. So you've disguised
yourself, have you? (In a voice of thunder.) Take off that skirt.
GIUSEPPE (remonstrating). Oh, lieutenant!
LADY (affrighted, but highly indignant at his having dared to
touch her). Gentlemen: I appeal to you. Giuseppe. (Making a
movement as if to run to Giuseppe.)
LIEUTENANT (interposing, sword in hand). No you don't.
LADY (taking refuge with Napoleon). Ah, sir, you are an officer--
a general. You will protect me, will you not?
LIEUTENANT. Never you mind him, General. Leave me to deal with
him.
NAPOLEON. With him! With whom, sir? Why do you treat this lady in
such a fashion?
LIEUTENANT.
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