And at this very moment, also, Dr. Bartolo was full three streets off, laying a complaint before the Alcade.
“Rosina—Rosina!” cried Figaro.
“Rosina—Rosina!” cried the count.
No answer.
“Why, where can she be?” cried both together.
She had not, of course, meant to come; but hope is strong, and so at this precise moment she came softly into the room.
“Dear Rosina!”
“Stand back, Senor,—I but come here to tell you, you have lost me.”
“Can I believe my precious senses!” exclaimed the barber.
“Rosina!”