[Rosina's lover, Count Almaviva, attempts to meet and converse with her
by hoodwinking Dr. Bartolo, her zealous guardian. He comes in disguise
to Bartolo's dwelling, in a room of which the scene is laid.]
[_Enter Count Almaviva, dressed as a student_.]
_Count [solemnly]_--May peace and joy abide here evermore!
_Bartolo [brusquely]_--Never, young sir, was wish more àpropos! What do
you want?
_Count_--Sir, I am one Alonzo, a bachelor of arts--
_Bartolo_--Sir, I need no instructor.
_Count_---- ---- a pupil of Don Basilio, the organist of the convent,
who teaches music to Madame your--
_Bartolo [suspiciously]_--Basilio! Organist! Yes, I know him. Well?
_Count [aside]_--What a man! _[Aloud.]_ He's confined to his bed with a
sudden illness.
_Bartolo_--Confined to his bed! Basilio! He's very good to send word,
for I've just seen him.
_Count [aside]_--Oh, the devil! [_Aloud._] When I say to his bed, sir,
it's--I mean to his room.
_Bartolo_--Whatever's the matter with him, go, if you please.
_Count [embarrassed]_--Sir, I was asked--Can no one hear us?
_Bartolo [aside]_--It's some rogue! _[Aloud.]_ What's that? No, Monsieur
Mysterious, no one can hear! Speak frankly--if you can.
_Count [aside]_--Plague take the old rascal! _[Aloud.]_ Don Basilio
asked me to tell you--
_Bartolo_--Speak louder. I'm deaf in one ear.
_Count [raising his voice_]--Ah! quite right: he asks me to say to you
that one Count Almaviva, who was lodging on the great square--
_Bartolo [frightened]_--Speak low, speak low.
_Count [louder]_----moved away from there this morning. As it was I who
told him that this Count Almaviva--
_Bartolo_--Low, speak lower, I beg of you.
_Count [in the same tone_]--Was in this city, and as I have discovered
that Señorita Rosina has been writing to him--
_Bartolo_--Has been writing to him? My dear friend, I implore you, _do_
speak low! Come, let's sit down, let's have a friendly chat. You have
discovered, you say, that Rosina--
_Count_ [_angrily_]--Certainly. Basilio, anxious about this
correspondence on your account, asked me to show you her letter; but the
way you take things--
_Bartolo_--Good Lord! I take them well enough. But can't you possibly
speak a little lower?
_Count_--You told me you were deaf in one ear.
_Bartolo_--I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, if I've been surly and
suspicious, Signor Alonzo: I'm surrounded with spies--and then your
figure, your age, your whole air--I beg your pardon. Well? Have you
the letter?
_Count_--I'm glad you're barely civil at last, sir. But are you quite
sure no one can overhear us?
_Bartolo_--Not a soul. My servants are all tired out. Señorita Rosina
has shut herself up in a rage! The very devil's to pay in this house.
Still I'll go and make sure. [_He goes to peep into Rosina's room_.]
_Count_ [_aside_]--Well, I've caught myself now in my own trap. Now what
shall I do about the letter? If I were to run off?--but then I might
just as well not have come. Shall I show it to him? If I could only warn
Rosina beforehand! To show it would be a master-stroke.
_Bartolo_ [_returning on tiptoe_]--She's sitting by the window with her
back to the door, and re-reading a cousin's letter which I opened. Now,
now--let me see hers.
_Count_ [_handing him Rosina's letter_]--Here it is. [_Aside._] She's
re-reading _my_ letter.
_Bartolo_ [_reads quickly_]--"Since you have told me your name and
estate--" Ah, the little traitress! Yes, it's her writing.
_Count_ [_frightened_]--Speak low yourself, won't you?
_Bartolo_--What for, if you please?
_Count_--When we've finished, you can do as you choose. But after all,
Don Basilio's negotiation with a lawyer--
_Bartolo_--With a lawyer? About my marriage?
_Count_--Would I have stopped you for anything else? He told me to say
that all can be ready to-morrow. Then, if she resists--
_Bartolo_--She will.
_Count_ [_wants to take back the letter; Bartolo clutches it_]--I'll
tell you what we'll do. We will show her her letter; and then, if
necessary, [_more mysteriously_] I'll even tell her that it was given to
me by a woman--to whom the Count is sacrificing her. Shame and rage may
bring her to terms on the spot.
_Bartolo_ [_laughing_]--Calumny, eh? My dear fellow, I see very well now
that you come from Basilio. But lest we should seem to have planned this
together, don't you think it would be better if she'd met you before?
_Count_ [_repressing a start of joy_]--Don Basilio thought so, I know.
But how can we manage it? It is late already. There's not much
time left.
_Bartolo_--I will tell her you've come in his place. Couldn't you give
her a lesson?
_Count_--I'll do anything you like. But take care she doesn't suspect.
All these dodges of pretended masters are rather old and theatrical.
_Bartolo_--She won't suspect if I introduce you. But how you do look!
You've much more the air of a disguised lover than of a zealous
student-friend.
_Count_--Really? Don't you think I can hoodwink her all the better for
that?
_Bartolo_--She'll never guess. She's in a horrible temper this evening.
But if she'll only see you--Her harpsichord is in this room. Amuse
yourself while you're waiting. I'll do all I can to bring her here.
_Count_--Don't say a word about the letter.
_Bartolo_--Before the right moment? It would lose all effect if I did.
It's not necessary to tell me things twice; it's not necessary to tell
me things twice. [_He goes._]
_Count_ [_alone, soliloquizes_]--At last I've won! Ouf! What a difficult
little old imp he is! Figaro understands him. I found myself lying, and
that made me awkward; and he has eyes for everything! On my honor, if
the letter hadn't inspired me he'd have thought me a fool!--Ah, how they
are disputing in there!--What if she refuses to come? Listen--If she
won't, my coming is all thrown away. There she is: I won't show
myself at first.
[_Rosina enters_.]
_Rosina_ [_angrily_]--There's no use talking about it, sir. I've made up
my mind. I don't want to hear anything more about music.
_Bartolo_--But, my child, do listen! It is Señor Alonzo, the friend and
pupil of Don Basilio, whom he has chosen as one of our marriage
witnesses. I'm sure that music will calm you.
_Rosina_--Oh! you needn't concern yourself about that; and as for
singing this evening--Where is this master you're so afraid of
dismissing? I'll settle him in a minute--and Señor Basilio too. [_She
sees her lover and exclaims_:] Ah!
_Bartolo_--Eh, eh, what is the matter?
_Rosina_ [_pressing her hands to her heart_]--Ah, sir! Ah, sir!
_Bartolo_--She is ill again! Señor Alonzo!
_Rosina_--No, I am not ill--but as I was turning--ah!
_Count_--Did you sprain your foot, Madame?
_Rosina_--Yes, yes, I sprained my foot! I--hurt myself dreadfully.
_Count_--So I perceived.
_Rosina_ [_looking at the Count_]--The pain really makes me feel faint.
_Bartolo_--A chair--a chair there! And not a single chair here! [_He
goes to get one_.]
_Count_--Ah, Rosina!
_Rosina_--What imprudence!
_Count_--There are a hundred things I must say to you.
_Rosina_--He won't leave us alone.
_Count_--Figaro will help us.
_Bartolo_ [_bringing an arm-chair_]--Wait a minute, my child. Sit down
here. She can't take a lesson this evening, Señor: you must postpone
it. Good-by.
_Rosina_ [_to the Count_]--No, wait; my pain is better. [_To Bartolo_.]
I feel that I've acted foolishly! I'll imitate you, and atone at once by
taking my lesson.
_Bartolo_--Oh! Such a kind little woman at heart! But after so much
excitement, my child, I can't let you make any exertion. So good-bye,
Señor, good-bye.
_Rosina_ [_to the Count_]--Do wait a minute! [_To Bartolo_.] I shall
think that you don't care to please me if you won't let me show my
regret by taking my lesson.
_Count_ [_aside to Bartolo_]--I wouldn't oppose her, if I were you.
_Bartolo_--That settles it, my love: I am so anxious to please you that
I shall stay here all the time you are practicing.
_Rosina_--No, don't. I know you don't care for music.
_Bartolo_--It _will_ charm me this evening, I'm sure.
_Rosina [aside to the Count_]--I'm tormented to death!
_Count [taking a sheet of music from the stand_]--Will you sing this,
Madame?
_Rosina_--Yes, indeed--it's a very pretty thing out of the opera 'The
Useless Precaution.'
_Bartolo_--Why do you _always_ sing from 'The Useless Precaution'?
_Count_--There is nothing newer! It's a picture of spring in a very
bright style. So if Madame wants to try it--
_Rosina [looking at the Count_]--With pleasure. A picture of spring is
delightful! It is the youth of nature. It seems as if the heart always
feels more when winter's just over. It's like a slave who finds liberty
all the more charming after a long confinement.
_Bartolo [to the Count_]--Always romantic ideas in her head!
_Count [in a low tone_]--Did you notice the application?
_Bartolo_--Zounds!
_[He sits down in the chair which Rosina has been occupying. Rosina
sings, during which Bartolo goes to sleep. Under cover of the refrain
the Count seizes Rosina's hand and covers it with kisses. In her emotion
she sings brokenly, and finally breaks off altogether. The sudden
silence awakens Bartolo. The Count starts up, and Rosina quickly resumes
her song_.]
* * * * *
_[Don Basilio enters. Figaro in background_.]
_Rosina [startled, to herself_]--Don Basilio!
_Count [aside]_--Good Heaven!
_Figaro_--The devil!
_Bartolo [going to meet him_]--Ah! welcome, Basilio. So your accident
was not very serious? Alonzo quite alarmed me about you. He will tell
you that I was just going to see you, and if he had not detained me--
_Basilio [in astonishment_]--Señor Alonzo?
_Figaro [stamping his foot_]--Well, well! How long must I wait? Two
hours wasted already over your beard--Miserable business!
_Basilio [looking at every one in amazement_]--But, gentlemen, will you
please tell me--
_Figaro_--You can talk to him after I've gone.
_Basilio_--But still, would--
_Count_--You'd better be quiet, Basilio. Do you think you can inform
him of anything new? I've told him that you sent me for the music lesson
instead of coming himself.
_Basilio [still more astonished]_--The music lesson! Alonzo!
_Rosina [aside to Basilio]--Do_ hold your tongue, can't you?
_Basilio_--She, too!
_Count [to Bartolo]_--Let him know what you and I have agreed upon.
_Bartolo [aside to Basilio]_--Don't contradict, and say that he is not
your pupil, or you will spoil everything.
_Basilio_--Ah! Ah!
_Bartolo [aloud]_--Indeed, Basilio, your pupil has a great deal of
talent.
_Basilio [stupefied]_--My pupil! [_In a low tone_.] I came to tell you
that the Count has moved.
_Bartolo [low]_--I know it. Hush.
_Basilio [low]_--Who told you?
_Bartolo [low]_--He did, of course.
_Count [low]_--It was I, naturally. Just listen, won't you?
_Rosina [low to Basilio]_--Is it so hard to keep still?
_Figaro [low to Basilio]_--Hum! The sharper! He is deaf!
_Basilio [aside]_--Who the devil are they trying to deceive here?
Everybody seems to be in it!
_Bartolo [aloud]_--Well, Basilio--about your lawyer--?
_Figaro_--You have the whole evening to talk about the lawyer.
_Bartolo [to Basilio]_--One word; only tell me if you are satisfied with
the lawyer.
_Basilio [startled]_--With the lawyer?
_Count [smiling]_--Haven't you seen the lawyer?
_Basilio [impatient]_--Eh? No, I haven't seen the lawyer.
_Count [aside to Bartolo]_--Do you want him to explain matters before
her? Send him away.
_Bartolo [low to the Count]_--You are right. [_To Basilio_.] But what
made you ill, all of a sudden?
_Basilio [angrily]_--I don't understand you.
_Count [secretly slipping a purse into his hands]_--Yes: he wants to
know what you are doing here, when you are so far from well?
_Figaro_--He's as pale as a ghost!
_Basilio_--Ah! I understand.
_Count_--Go to bed, dear Basilio. You are not at all well, and you make
us all anxious. Go to bed.
_Figaro_--He looks quite upset. Go to bed.
_Bartolo_--I'm sure he seems feverish. Go to bed.
_Rosina_--Why did you come out? They say that it's catching. Go to bed.
_Basilio [in the greatest amazement]_--I'm to go to bed!
_All the others together_--Yes, you must.
_Basilio [looking at them all]_--Indeed, I think I will have to
withdraw. I don't feel quite as well as usual.
_Bartolo_--We'll look for you to-morrow, if you are better.
_Count_--I'll see you soon, Basilio.
_Basilio [aside]_--Devil take it if I understand all this! And if it
weren't for this purse--
_All_--Good-night, Basilio, good-night.
_Basilio [going]_--Very well, then; good-night, _good-night_.
[_The others, all laughing, push him civilly out of the room_.]