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]—­Senor 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.