"All right, then! He has gone a-hunting," and they laughed.
"With no escort? Hardly. Come, don't think me a fool. Where's the Duke? The Duchess wishes to speak with him."
"It is you who are a dull fool," the men exclaimed, seeming to carry on the conversation aside, but taking good care that Rigoletto should hear. "The Duke cannot be disturbed—do you understand? He is with a lady."
"Ah! Villains!" Rigoletto shrieked, turning upon them like a tiger. "My daughter! You have my daughter—here in this palace. Give me my daughter!" The men all rushed after him as he made for the door.
"Your daughter? My God! Your daughter?" They were horrified at their own doings, hearing it was Rigoletto's daughter.
"Stand back! Don't think to keep me from my daughter." As they still held him tight, hardly knowing what then to do, he sank down in despair. He entreated help of the different courtiers whom he had so often and maliciously misused. Then he wept.
"Oh, have pity on me, my lords! Let me go to my daughter." While everybody was hesitating in consternation, Gilda, having got free, rushed from the next room, and into his arms. She screamed hysterically that she had been carried off by the Duke. Rigoletto nearly foamed at the mouth with rage, and at last the men became truly afraid of him.
"Go, all of you!" he stammered, no longer able to speak plainly. "And if the Duke comes into this room I will kill him." So the courtiers withdrew. The palace was in an uproar.
"It is a mistake to jest with a madman," Marullo whispered to Borsa as they went out. Father and daughter were left alone. After looking at Gilda a moment, trying to recover himself, Rigoletto whispered.
"Now, my child; they have gone. Speak!" Gilda throwing herself into her father's arms, told of her meetings with the Duke, and of how she had grown to love him, and finally of how in the night she had been carried away.