(“Lindoro, is it!”)
“Vengeance! Did you not say you’d marry me? You did; then let us married be. And now, at once (stamp of the foot), at once, at once! At midnight he’ll be here, and with him, Senor, barber Figaro. It all was settled I should fly and marry him.”
“Ah! I run to bar the door.”
“’Tis useless, Senor, you’d better bar the window.”
“The window!”
“Yes—yes—they have the key!”
“The key! I’ll not stir from the spot. Yet, should they come with arms! I’d better call the watch, and call them thieves. Go, shut yourself within your room, and double lock the door!”
And out into the pelting rain he rushed, while the little tigress, somewhat accusing herself of hastiness, went slowly to her room.
At first there was nothing heard but the rain; then “click, click,” the turning of a key in a lock. Then the window opened slowly, and with light jumps, in came the count and the barber.
And at this very moment, Don Basilio, drenched to his very fingers’ ends, was stalking along the street, towards the doctor’s, and with him was a notary, who with reluctance had left his house.