t is Senor 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 Senor 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! Senor 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, Senor: 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,
Senor, 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