e so agitated.

_Countess_--I--I assure you we were only planning an innocent joke.

[_The Count snatches the key, and goes to the dressing-room door; the
Countess throws herself at his feet._]

_Countess_--Have mercy, Count! Spare this poor child; and although the
disorder in which you will find him--

_Count_--What, Madame? What do you mean? What disorder?

_Countess_--He was just changing his coat--his neck and arms are bare--

[_The Countess throws herself into a chair and turns away her head._]

_Count_ [_running to the dressing-room_]--Come out here, you young
villain!

_Count_ [_seeing Susanna come out of the dressing-room_]--Eh! Why, it
_is_ Susanna! [_Aside._] What, a lesson!

_Susanna_ [_mocking him_]--"I will kill him! I will kill him!" Well,
then, why don't you kill this mischievous page?

_Count_ [_to the Countess, who at the sight of Susanna shows the
greatest surprise_]--So _you_ also play astonishment, Madame?

_Countess_--Why shouldn't I?

_Count_--But perhaps she wasn't alone in there. I'll find out. [_He goes
into the dressing-room._]

_Countess_--- Susanna, I'm nearly dead.

_Count_ [_aside, as he returns_]--No one there! So this time I really am
wrong. [_To the Countess, coldly._] You excel at comedy, Madame.

_Susanna_--And what about me, sir?

_Count_--And so do you.

_Countess_--Aren't you glad you found her instead of Cherubino?
[_Meaningly._] You are generally pleased to come across her.

_Susanna_--Madame ought to have let you break in the doors, call the
servants--

_Count_--Yes, it's quite true--I'm at fault--I'm humiliated enough! But
why didn't you answer, you cruel girl, when I called you?

_Susanna_--I was dressing as well as I could--with the aid of pins, and
Madame knew why she forbade me to answer. She had her lessons.

_Count_--Why don't you help me get pardon, instead of making me out as
bad as you can?

_Countess_--Did I marry you to be eternally subjected to jealousy and
neglect? I mean to join the Ursulines, and--

_Count_--But, Rosina!

_Countess_--I am no longer the Rosina whom you loved so well. I am only
poor Countess Almaviva, deserted wife of a madly jealous husband.

_Count_--I assure you, Rosina, this man, this letter, had excited me
so--

_Countess_--I never gave my consent.

_Count_--What, you knew about it?

_Countess_--This rattlepate Figaro, without my sanction--

_Count_--He did it, eh! and Basilio pretended that a peasant brough