"You are only to think it is pleasant—not to mention it," Tamino cautioned. Meantime, Papageno, who couldn't hold his tongue to save his life, grew thirsty. And he no sooner became aware of it, than an old woman entered with a cup of water.
"Is that for me?" he asked.
"Yes, my love," she replied, and Papageno drank it.
"Well, next time when you wish to quench my thirst you must bring something besides water—don't forget. Sit down here, old lady, it is confoundedly dull," the irrepressible Papageno said, and the old lady sat. "How old are you, anyway?"
"Just eighteen years and two minutes," she answered.
"Um—it is the two minutes that does it, I suppose," Papageno reflected, looking at her critically.
"Does anybody love you?" he asked, by way of satisfying his curiosity.
"Certainly—his name is Papageno."
"The deuce you say? Well, well, I never would have thought it of myself. Well, what's your name, mam?" but just as the old lady was about to answer, the thunder boomed and off she rushed.
"Oh, heaven! I'll never speak another word," Papageno cried. He had no sooner taken that excellent resolution than the three Genii entered bearing a table loaded with good things to eat. They also brought the flute and the chime of bells.