"What do you say?"
"Yes, we brought her here."
"Oh, joy!" the Duke exclaimed; then aside: "She is near me," and forgetting all about his friends he went out excitedly.
"Why did he turn away from us?" the men asked each other. "He has enjoyed our adventures before now." They were a little uneasy and were conferring together when Rigoletto came in. He was a pitiful-looking fellow, worn with a night of horror and weeping, but he came singing:
"La, la, la, la, la,"—pretending not to be agitated. "Pray what is the news?" he asked off-hand, seeking not to betray his agony of mind, till he should have learned something about his daughter.
"Pleasant morning, Rigoletto!" the men answered, mockingly, and glancing with grins at each other. "Pray what is the news?" Rigoletto, half dead with anxiety, moved about the room looking for some sign of Gilda.
"Lord! See him fishing about in every corner for her? He thinks to find her under the table," one of them whispered, and the men burst out laughing.
Then Rigoletto discovered a handkerchief on the floor and snatched it, hoping to find a clue, but it was not hers. Just then a page ran in to say that the Duchess was asking for the Duke.
"He is still in bed," one of the men answered, watching the effect of that upon Rigoletto, who was listening to every word.
"He cannot be," the page persisted. "Didn't he just pass me on the stairs?"