(Countess and Susan discover their fears, and make signs to Figaro to assist them if possible.)
Count. Where is the Man? (Eagerly.)
Antonio. That’s what I want to know, my Lord!—I wish I could find him,—I am your Lordship’s Gardener; and, tho’ I say it, a better Gardener is not to be found in all Spain;—but if Chambermaids are permitted to toss men out of the window to save their own Reputation, what is to become of mine?—“It will wither with my flowers to be sure.”
Figaro. Oh fie! What sotting so soon in a morning?
Antonio. Why, can one begin one’s day’s work too early?
Count. Your day’s work, Sir?
Antonio. Your Lordship knows my Niece, there she stands, is to be married to day; and I am sure she would never forgive me if——
Count. If you were not to get drunk an hour sooner than usual—But on with your story, Sir—What of the Man?—What followed?
Antonio. I followed him myself, my Lord, as fast as I could; but, somehow, I unluckily happened to make a false step, and came with such a confounded whirl against the Garden-gate—that I—I quite for—forgot my Errand.
Count. And should you know this man again?