“Chink—chink.” This speaking sound was the passage of gold from count to barber. Barber engaged upon that argument to do all things.
Clearly the first thing to do was to get into the house. One second, and the barber had it. A regiment had just arrived—the count must disguise himself as a soldier and present a billet. The count was charmed with the idea; and the barber was charmed with himself. “Chink—chink,” from the barber’s purse. Another thought. He must be drunk—’twould put the guardian off his guard—what gentleman would be drunk!
So, on the very best terms with each other, the count and the barber walked off to put their plans into execution.
CHAPTER II.
It is, I hope, no imputation upon Rosina’s character to say she watched the count and the barber as they chatted; and it is to be hoped no one will accuse her of impropriety, if, in that hour, she fairly made up her mind that the count would make an admirable husband! And—and after a time she wrote another letter—a delicious lover’s relief—and wondered how he was to get it; and she was just thinking that perhaps Figaro could——
When Figaro came into the room.
“Good day, Senorita.”
“Good day, Senor Figaro; I am dying of weariness.”
“Then look in the glass, and you’ll be charmed.”