The bliss of these young people was soon ended—for alas! Figaro, who, as a general precaution, was looking on all sides and on all levels, saw from the balcony one lantern and two persons down below at the door!
“Quick—the ladder,” shouted he, and instinctively he felt for it. Gone—vanished. Even Figaro was disconcerted.
Footsteps!
The one lantern and the two persons. Don Basilio and the notary.
“Noble Dr. Bartolo,” whispered the gaunt man.
Figaro slipped quickly round the new comers, and then said softly to the count—“’Tis the scamp Basilio and our notary. Cheer up, leave all to me.” Then aloud he added, “Good evening, gentlemen,—I pray you place the lantern on the table here. Senor notary! this evening at my house you were to see a contract signed between the Count Almaviva and my niece.—Well, here are you and I, the count, and also, here’s my niece.”
“But where’s the doctor?” said Basilio, to whom Figaro, handing him a ring from the count’s hand,
“Put this ring upon your hand,
And let no more be said,
Or the next report may be,
You’re shot clean through the head.”
Don Basilio saw the force of the argument, and accepted the ring.
Then there was the scratching of pens, and the signing of names, and in less time than it takes to record the fact, Rosina was a wife!