“To-day;” thought rustic Nemorino, “to-day—if they’re married to-day there will be no to-morrow—and the elixir of love—will be useless!”
“We-l-l-l sergeant. Y-y-y-es; to-day!”
“Oh, no, no, no; Adina. Wait till to-morrow.”
“Ah, ah!”
“You cannot marry him; because, I—I—I—know why!”
“Co-r-r-r-rpodi Bacco!”
“You can’t, Adina. You’ll be sorry if you do. Don’t, don’t marry him till to-morrow.”
“Begone, booby; or I strangle you!”
“Sergeant, pray take no notice of the poor fellow. Half-witted, sergeant. He thought; ah, ah! thought I should—should love him. Oh—the—ridiculous—creature. He thought! I’ll be revenged on him,” she said to herself. “How dared he to sing before me. He shall fall at my feet in penitence before I’ll have a word to say to him.”
And all the girls about said, “the idea! a common husbandman to dare to be the rival of a sergeant in the army; the idea!”