Countess According to that, he won't be here until tomorrow—and cannot disturb our project today. So, Miss, tell my dancing women to prepare for the wedding I intend to celebrate today.
Maid We will do all our best to please you, and though I sing poorly, I can sing a sad song about being a widow.
Countess It's Tuneless who is getting everything ready. He wants to be a music master, my Butler.
Maid He's an original. Look here. I believe he's composing—for he's walking to the beat. Hold, hold, Madame, the spirit torments him—he's possessed by the demon of music.
Countess
Shh! He doesn't see us. Let's give him the pleasure—
Tuneless (entering) Nothing's going right, dammit. La, la, la, la. I can never find a completely new idea. (slowly) La, la, la, la, la—no, that opening's in Lully. La, la, la, la, la, la—Lully again. La, la, la, la—Lully again. That Lully everywhere—everywhere I turn. I am very unfortunate not to have been born before him. Everything I have in my head is useless because they say I plagiarize him. La, la, la, la, la—good there. La, la, la, la, la. Admirable. La, la. Marvelous. And the second, lower—la, la, la, low tone, what invention. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la—what reflections of genius. The notes are coming to me—write them down quickly. (with one knee on the ground, he writes on some paper on the other knee, until, perceiving the Countess, he takes off his hat in this position and continues to write) (singing) Pardon me, Madame, oh pardon, Madame, da, de, da, de da, Madame. I note the last tone. (rising and bowing to the Countess) It's a duo for an aria about widowhood, as you have commanded. (giving her a paper. Wait, Madame—you know how to sing without a book.
Countess
I see Mrs. Bramble in the gallery. I must speak with our widow.
Tuneless
Let us sing together, and that will serve as a rehearsal.
(Exit Countess.)
Tuneless (to Maid) Now you will represent the widow. Carefully imitate the affliction of widows. Cry with your eyes down in your chin.