Count. Evarist _comes out of_ Nina's _house._
_Evarist._ Oh, there he is still! I thought he was gone. I can't
think how I was able to fall asleep amid so much distress of mind.
Fatigue--exhaustion. Now I feel born anew with the hopes of having back
the fan.--[_Calls._] Count, your servant.
_Count._ [_Reading and smiling._] Your servant, Signor Evarist.
_Evarist._ Will you permit me to say a few words?
_Count._ [_As above._] In a moment I am at your disposal.
_Evarist._ [_Aside._] If he has not got the fan in his hand, I don't
know how to begin speaking about it.
_Count._ [_Gets up laughing, and pockets his book._] Here I am, at your
services.
_Evarist._ [_Searching with his eyes for the fan._] I should be sorry if
I have disturbed you.
_Count._ It does not matter, I will finish reading my fable another
time.
_Evarist._ [_As above._] I should not like you to think me impertinent.
_Count._ What are you looking at? Have I some spot about me?
_Evarist._ Excuse me, I was told you had a fan.
_Count._ [_Confused._] A fan! It is true. Was it perchance you who lost
it?
_Evarist._ Yes, sir, I lost it.
_Count._ But there are many fans in the world. How do you know it is
yours?
_Evarist._ If you would have the kindness to show it to me?
_Count._ My friend, I am sorry you come too late.
_Evarist._ How too late?
_Count._ The fan is no longer in my possession.
_Evarist._ What?
_Count._ No; I gave it away.
_Evarist._ And pray to whom?
_Count._ That is just what I would rather not tell you.
_Evarist._ Count, I must know! I must have back that fan, and I will
know who has it now!
_Count._ I will not tell!
_Evarist._ Heavens and earth, but you shall tell!
_Count._ Do not forget who I am!
_Evarist._ [_Angrily._] I say it, and I will maintain it! This is an
ungentlemanly action!
_Count._ Do you know that I have a couple of loaded pistols?
_Evarist._ What do I care about your pistols? I want my fan!
_Count._ How absurd! So much eagerness and noise for a bit of a fan
which is worth perhaps five paoli!
_Evarist._ Let it be worth whatever it is worth, you cannot know that
for me it is priceless. I would give twenty ducats to have it!
_Count._ You would give twenty ducats!
_Evarist._ If I tell you so, I promise it! If you can get it back I will
gladly sacrifice twenty ducats.
_Count._ [_Aside._] The devil! It must be painted by Titian or Raphael
of Urbino.--I will see if I can get you back the fan.
_Evarist._ If the owner likes to sell it for twenty ducats, I repeat I
am willing.
_Count._ Had I the fan, such a proposal would offend me.
_Evarist._ But perchance it will not offend its present owner.
_Count._ Perchance, who knows? My friend, I assure you, I am quite
confused.
_Evarist._ Let us do like this, Count. This is a gold snuff-box whose
weight alone represents a worth of over twenty ducats. Its workmanship
makes it worth twice as much. Never mind; for that fan I will willingly
give this box. Here it is!
_Count._ [_Holding the box in his hand._] Are there perhaps diamonds on
that fan? I noticed nothing.
_Evarist._ It is not of the faintest value, but it is of worth to me.
_Count._ Then I must try and satisfy you.
_Evarist._ I beg of you!
_Count._ Await me here.--[_Aside._] I am quite confused.--But am I to
give the box in exchange?
_Evarist._ Yes, yes, give it!
_Count._ Wait. [_Walks a few steps._] And if the person gives me the
fan, and does not want the box?
_Evarist._ I have given it to you. Do what you like with your property.
_Count._ In earnest?
_Evarist._ In earnest.
_Count._ [_Aside._] After all, the Baron is a gentleman and my friend.
Because of the twenty ducats I would not accept it, but a gold
snuff-box--that gives an aristocratic, refined, well-to-do
air.--[_Aloud._] Wait for me here. [_Goes into the pharmacy._]
_Evarist._ To justify myself in her eyes I would sacrifice my life, my
heart's blood!