Limonato _from the cafe with two cups on a tray._ Moracchio _runs from
his house to succour_ Evarist.
_Crispino._ [_Comes out of the side street._] Oh, there is Signor
Evarist. But what is the matter?
_Nina._ Water, water!
_Crispino._ Wine, wine!
_Limonato._ Give him wine. I will just carry these cups to the inn.
_Moracchio._ Courage, courage, sir! He is in love; that is his malady.
_Timoteo._ [_Comes out of his shop._] What is the matter?
_Moracchio._ Come here, Timoteo.
_Nina._ Yes, do you help.
_Timoteo._ What is the matter?
_Nina._ He has fainted.
_Timoteo._ There I can help.
_Nina._ The poor gentleman, he is in love.
_Crispino._ [_With a bottle of wine._] Here, here! that will restore him
to life--five-year-old wine.
_Nina._ He is reviving!
_Crispino._ Oh, this wine would make the dead rise!
_Moracchio._ Courage, courage, sir, I say!
_Timoteo._ [_With bottles, glasses, and a razor._] Here I am. Quick,
undress him!
_Moracchio._ What is the razor for?
_Timoteo._ In case of need, it is better than a lancet.
_Crispino._ A razor?
_Nina._ What?
_Evarist._ [_Gets up._] Oh ho! who wants to cut my throat with a razor?
_Nina._ The apothecary.
_Timoteo._ Excuse me; I am an honest man, and no assassin. When one has
the best intentions, it is not right to make one appear ridiculous. See
whether I will come another time. [_Exit._
_Moracchio._ Won't you step into my house, sir, and rest on my bed?
_Evarist._ Wherever you like.
_Moracchio._ Take my arm and lean on me.
_Evarist._ Oh, how much rather I would that my miserable life were
ended! [_Walks off, leaning on_ Moracchio.]
_Nina._ [_Aside._] If he wanted to die, he could not have done better
than give himself up to the apothecary.
_Moracchio._ Here we are at the door. Let us go in.
_Evarist._ Useless kindness to him who only asks to die. [_They enter._]
_Moracchio._ Nina, get the bed ready for Signor Evarist.
_Crispino._ [_As she is going to enter, calls her._] Nina!
_Nina._ What is it?
_Crispino._ You are wonderfully compassionate for this gentleman.
_Nina._ I do my duty, because you and I are the cause of his illness.
_Crispino._ Speak for yourself, there I can't answer. But I? What have I
to do with him?
_Nina._ Because of that accursed fan. [_Goes in._]
_Crispino._ Accursed fan, indeed! I have now heard it named millions of
times! But I am glad to think I did Coronato. He is my enemy, and will
be so till Nina is my wife. But what now? I could bury this fan in the
ground; but if it be trodden on, it will break. What shall I do with it.
[_Pulls out the fan._]
[Limonato _crosses from his cafe to the inn._]
_Count._ [_From out the inn._] The dinner was excellent! For once I have
eaten my fill.
_Crispino._ [_Aside._] Ho, ho, the Count. Shall I--Yes, that will be the
best way. [_Advances towards him, fan in hand._]
_Count._ What is that you have in your hand?
_Crispino._ A fan. I found it on the ground.
_Count._ [_Takes it._] A lady must have lost it in passing by. What will
you do with it?
_Crispino._ I really don't know.
_Count._ Do you want to sell it?
_Crispino._ Sell it? I should not know what to ask for it. What may it
be worth?
_Count._ I don't know, for I don't understand such things. There are
figures painted on it; but a fan found in the country can't be worth
much.
_Crispino._ I wish it were worth very much.
_Count._ In order to sell it well?
_Crispino._ No, certainly not; but only in order to offer it to your
honour.
_Count._ To me! You want to give it to me?
_Crispino._ But as it seems of no value--
_Count._ Oh no; it is not bad, and seems quite decent. Thank you, my
friend. Whenever I can be of use to you, count on my
protection.--[_Aside._] I shall give it away.
_Crispino._ But one thing I beg of you.
_Count._ [_Aside._] Didn't I think so! This class of people gives
nothing for nothing!--Well, what is it? Speak.
_Crispino._ I beg you to tell no one that I gave it to you.
_Count._ Is that all?
_Crispino._ All.
_Count._ If it's nothing but that--[_Aside._] He is cautious. But, my
good friend, why should people not know? Have you perchance stolen it?
_Crispino._ Excuse me. I am not capable of that.
_Count._ Then why should no one know it comes from you? If you have
found it, and the owner does not turn up, I don't see why--
_Crispino._ [_Laughing._] And yet I have my reasons.
_Count._ And they are?--
_Crispino._ Well, I am in love.
_Count._ I know it. With Nina.
_Crispino._ And if Nina knew I had this fan, and did not give it to her,
she would be angry.
_Count._ Just as well for her not to have it. This is no fan for a
country girl. Do not fear; I shall not betray you. But that reminds me,
how do matters stand with you and Nina? Do you really mean to marry her?
_Crispino._ I confess I desire her as my wife.
_Count._ Well, then, you shall have her. This very evening, if you like,
we will celebrate the wedding.
_Crispino._ Really, you are in earnest?
_Count._ In earnest. Who am I? What is meant by my protection? I am
almighty!
_Crispino._ But Coronato wants her also.
_Count._ Coronato! Who is Coronato? A stupid fellow! Does she love you?
_Crispino._ Yes, dearly.
_Count._ Good, then: you are loved, Coronato is not. Depend on my
protection.
_Crispino._ Most certainly. But--her brother?
_Count._ Brother! what brother? what of him? If the sister is satisfied,
the brother has nothing to say. Depend entirely on my protection.
_Crispino._ By Saint Crispin!
_Count._ There now, go back to your work, that my shoes may get done at
last.
_Crispino._ As your Honour desires.
[Count _examines the fan._]
_Crispino._ [_Aside._] The devil a bit! I forgot that Signora Geltrude
sent me to look for Signor Evarist, and now I have found him and not
told her. But his illness--the fan--in short, I forgot! I will call him,
but I don't like to go to Moracchio's house. I will go to the Signora
Geltrude and tell her Signor Evarist is found, and she is to have him
called, only not by me. [_Goes off towards the draper's shop._]
_Count._ What can it cost? Not much. Were it more choice, I would give
it to Signorina Candida, who broke her own. But why should I not? It is
not half bad.
_Nina._ [_At the window._] Where is Crispino? Not there!
_Count._ The figures are badly painted, but it seems to me they are well
drawn.
_Nina._ Oh, what do I see! The fan is in the Count's hands! Quick,
quick, to wake Signor Evarist!
_Count._ And who refuses a gift? She shall have it.